At the undergraduate station I worked at, during our weekday rock shifts there was an attempt to play "modern rock" from a few eras – namely the 1990s but there were "flashbacks" to the 1980s that got air as well. Some were novelty throwaways – like Peter Schilling's Major Tom Coming Home or Dexy's Midnight Runners – while others were songs by artists that had a 1990s output (strong or otherwise) that somehow fit snuggly up against what else was playing. I arrived on the scene already a fan of Wall of Voodoo's Mexican Radio and Call of the West, both known for their warped Western and boggled-bandito sounds, and Mexican Radio was certainly a standout track during the aforementioned flashbacks. Actually, one of the more memorable times I played this song was not so much during a music shift but during our coverage of basketball.
For a few years, the college station was the radio flagship of the university men's basketball team, meaning our play-by-play team went over to the coliseum for home games or, for other games, headed away to parts unknown and hoped fans back at home were listening. For most of our remotes, the broadcast team would setup a mobile transmitter unit whose output fed into our audio console and fed out over the airwaves. It was a fairly simple process with little chance of error, although since it was also a transmitting device, sometimes it would send over static or noise.
Such was the night when the unit was sending about 90% of the game, with the remaining 10% shared between twinges of static and someone chatting fiercely away in Spanish. The first time it happened I didn't think much of it but it soon started happening more often, to the point that there was at least a three-to-five second pinch of noise that prompted the play-by-play team to actually apologize for the audio difficulties.
During one of the timeouts – and when I, back at the studio, began a 90-second PSA break, I jumped on the phone to talk with play-by-play announcers.
"What gives with that other radio station breaking in?" they asked. I didn’t have much of an answer for them, other than saying that most of their game was coming across strong and that I didn't think there was much we could do about the static unless they signed the mobile unit off briefly. Somewhat happy to hear their performance wasn't sounding all that bad, one of the announcers made the off-the-cuff remark before going back into the game that they could hear that other DJ talking but "we thought it was you - but we can't understand just what he says."
In a flash I knew what to do. Pulling the necessary CD down from its shelf, when the last of the PSAs finished and the announcers' cue to continue aired, I began the opening bars of Mexican Radio. Neither made the connection the first time, but about the third or fourth time we returned from a break one of them chuckled mildly at all the "Mexican Radio I've been hearing tonight." A subtle joke, yes, but one I thought was justly deserved.
Wall of Voodoo's main player was Stan Ridgway, a name I immediately recognized a few years later as a graduate assistant at the other radio station I worked at. Ridgway's Partyball was stuffed into our massive walk-in closest that served as music storage – floor to ceiling shelves of CDs, LPs and cassettes – and appeared to have never played. Borrowing the disc for a weekend, I quickly found I Wanna Be a Boss one of the funnier and catchier tunes and thought others would appreciate the song as well. Installing the disc back into the control room, I know the song got a slight ripple of playtime and praise. Stupidly, I didn't make a copy of the song and it was years before I was able to find a copy – by that time, I was working in an office setting and seeing first hand the types of bosses that Stan probably had in mind for his song.
Ridgway has continued to record since wanting to be a boss, both albums of his own music, as a member of the group, Drywall, and with his wife Pietra Wexstun.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I Wanna Be a Boss
(Stan Ridgway)
Stan Ridgway
From the album Partyball
1991
Well, I've been doodling on this notepad
And I been taking telephone calls
I can tell this job's at the end of the line
And I'm ready for the fall
But I been watchin' the boss carefully
And he always seems to be havin' a ball
And then I scratch my head and wonder
Why I'm down here and he's up the hall
Now, all of my paychecks aren't worth
The paper they're printed on
I get 'em Friday
But Monday they're all gone
There must be some way to change my situation
It's time that I took up a brand new vocation
I wanna take a two-week vacation
Twenty-six times a year, add 'em up
When I fly to exotic places
My jet will be a Lear
I'll need several secretaries
Just to jot down notes
I'll wear Gucci loafers
And expensive shirts
And blue, executive, exotic coats
Chorus:
'Cause I, I said I wanna be a boss
(I wanna be, I wanna be)
I, I said I wanna be a boss
And I'll have people workin' under me
And this lousy job I'll toss
I, I said I wanna be a boss
Well, I'll drive in fancy cars
Well, no, maybe I'll just cruise
With a limo––and a chauffeur,
TV, telephone, and booze
Tinted windows so the common folk
Can't see me here inside
Maybe every now and then for fun
I'll give some old coot a ride
Then maybe I'll slip him
A thousand dollar bill
Then he'll smile and shake my hand
And I'll put him in my will
I'm gonna count up all my widgets
And digits, and all my stuff
I'll make millions in a day
But it'll never be enough
Nope––not enough!
Chorus:
'Cause I, I said I wanna be a boss
And I just wanna take a four-hour lunch
And eat a steak with A1 Sauce
I, I said I wanna be a boss
And I'll buy up every stock there is
From ITT to Doctor Ross
I, I said I wanna be a boss
(I wanna be, I wanna be)
Now if I find a product I like
I'll buy up the whole company
Shave my face, and grin and smile
And then I'll sell it on TV
And everyone will know me
I'll be more famous than Howard Hughes
I'll grow a long beard and watch
Ice Station Zebra in the nude
And grow my nails like Fu-Manchu
Keep a row of specimen jars
Get other people to work for me––well
Maybe I'll buy the planet Mars, and
Build an amusement park up there
Better than old Walt's place
You'll have to be a millionaire to go
We'll smoke cigars and lounge in lace
Talk the talk of businessmen
And bosses that we are
So here's to me––the drinks are free––
'Cause I just bought this bar
Yeah––yeah, I wanna be a boss
I wanna be a boss, boss, boss!
Some kinda intergalactic boss!
