Don't want a conscience, give me a reason the people cry

Let's run through some of the peanut gallery in the Introduction to Broadcasting course, shall we?

I've already mentioned Lanna Sexton, one who I liked to refer to as "the loud one" as she frequently announced her presence, her abilities, and her opinion. She was a short, dumpy troll-like girl that really caked on the makeup in those gaudy hues no one had ever seen before. Now that I'm committing her vague memory to text I sort of wish I had paid more attention to what she yammered about all those years ago. She was a bit older than most of us and had worked as a receptionist at a television station "back home." Somewhere along the road of that profession she decided she had what it took to work in front of the camera, though I can only assume this idea was not mutually shared by those in charge of programming. Perhaps she came to college to prove she had what it took? Her overall goal was to get on television and not sit through these classes but while she had "heard" about some of the things discussed in class, she couldn't explain them no matter how hard – or how loud – she tried.

Keith Holland was another person who looked a bit older than most the rest of the class, but not by much. His most recognizable feature was his voice, evidently having picked up a nicotine habit earlier in his life. Like Lanna, he too had worked in the "industry" though his background was actual radio work – he was a weekend DJ at some backwater pop station. While that hands-on experience did give him a certain edge over the rest of us, Keith's major hurdle was unlearning some of the murkier traits he had picked up from his paying job. Instructors such as Dr. Propel and Dr. Schapp tended to teach the fundamentals in the lab practicum courses and they wanted to make sure everyone – even Keith – understood the concept behind a procedure before attempting short cuts.

For most of the year I sat next to the attractive but clinically dense Ivy Rovers. With a pleasant, wide-eyed face that was looked perpetually amazed at every mundane thing that happened, Ivy assumedly signed up for this major because she thought it would be easy. I got the impression on more than one occasion she found herself wrong for that initial thought and was now in way over her head with radio wave diagrams and lighting technique theories. However she had nothing to fear: her sorority sisters would be bailing her out of any mishap.

There was also Stephen Cornell, a sort-of flamboyant kid with a flair for dramatics and who looked like singer Rick Astley's twin brother. Sitting in class, listening, Cornell would nod slowly with exaggerated motions at whatever was being said. More often than not this would then be followed by what I think Stephen perceived as questions, but were usually smart-ass reinterpretations of what Dr. Propel had just said.

(This conversation didn't happen but it gives you the idea of those that did.)
Propel lectures about the cardioid pickup pattern of a type of microphone.
Cornell raises his arm, extending his index finger to signal he requests the chance to speak.
Cornell: So you're saying the microphone picks up sound in a heart-shape pattern?
Propel answers yes without much fanfare, presumably masking his disdain.

I've never cared much for people who act over-interested in what's being said. It comes across as fake, or being sincerely insincere. Even with this penchant for overacting, Cornell never seemed to me to grasp a lot of what was going on – or he convincingly played dumb a lot during the practicum lab.

Finally, th’ Faith Healers were a underground pop act out of England in the early 1990s that featured musicians Tom Cullinan, Joe Dilworth, Ben Hopkin, and Roxanne Stephen. While they had class, none were in the class with me or the other four people I’ve mentioned above. The only real similarity is that, like the group of not so-imaginary people (none really friends), we’ve all broken up and gone our separate ways.

And what weird, wonderful journey it’s been.

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The People
(Tom Cullinan)
Th' Faith Healers
From the album Imaginary Friend
1994

Mother cries
when the people dies
I understand
I hold her hand

The puppet cries
when the people dies
I understand
I hold his hand

The people cries
when the people dies
I understand
I hold their hands

The people cry
when the people die
I understand
I hold their hands

Don't want a conscience, give me a reason
Don't want a conscience, give me a reason
Don't want a conscience, give me a reason
Don't want a conscience, give me a reason

The colors all weave with life as we move into the wind

Troy Meadows, the easy-going news director my freshman year, encouraged his news staff to just not sit for an hour preparing and reading news, but to actually get out and find news on the campus and in the community. To do this he wanted us to take the initiative and find these stories ourselves. If we did one a month that amounted to about three a semester, and with a staff of about 15 that could add up to an impressive-sounding news department, Troy opined. Troy, however, was too nice a guy and would "help" many of the news staff find these stories – usually by bringing you the topic and a list of ideas on how to cover the story. All people had to do was gather the sound and edit together. If they ever did, that is. (Some people don’t put forth a lot of effort in college.)

Since I was in the Introduction to Broadcasting class, and not really receiving credit for my work that semester, I was given the ol' "it would be good experience for later" speech by Troy. And, thus, with his "help" I pulled off a decent story midway through the semester.

Fast-forward to the end of November: Troy calls me into the newsroom one morning after my seven o’clock newscast and begins the ol' "you did such a good job the last time" speech (sort of based on the first ol’ speech), buttering me up for my acceptance of another project. Yes, he has another story idea that someone needed to take, and since I just happened to be on site at that very moment.... This time, however, he wants me to do the legwork on my own: that is, find the people to interview, devise a story, and then edit it together. There weren't usually any hard-and-fast requirements to these stories, though Troy preferred something at least 90 seconds.

I was somewhat confused then when I was given my assignment: covering the opening ceremony of the university's annual Giving Tree ceremony. I don't know if Troy purposely gave me this assignment because no one else wanted it, or if it was some sort of test to see if I could pull it off. I was hardly an expert in writing or editing at this point but my obvious concerns were figuring out how to convey a lit Christmas tree on the radio. I remember jokingly making the case that of all the lights, red doesn't translate well on radio. The comment blew over like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree.

Whatever I came up with was to be used for the station’s semi-regular holiday special, a sort of audio scrapbook of Christmas on campus (which, not surprisingly, was the name of the special when it aired shortly before winter break). That said, what I was really doing was not as much reporting the news of the Giving Tree’s impending lighting, but rather covering the event for a feature story, one that would be played well after the fact.

While I was in over my head, I felt, I still went about the story with the same prep-work I would have had I been covering the item as a news story. Somewhat interested in the campus grounds, I went the historic direction in my research. For years, a real tree outside one of the original buildings on campus had been involved in the decades-old tradition; both the tree and building were long destroyed by my time. Since then, it had been anchored out front another building on the quadrangle. This year, I learned, would be the first time it would be lit in another location – essentially, its third location.

I got the impression it wasn’t a real tree that year, rather a large imitation one secured behind the Administration Building in a hexagon-shaped planter box. The tree appeared mysteriously the week before Thanksgiving and was decorated but remained dark in the evening until the official ceremony. On the designated evening in question, students, staff, faculty, and townspeople (and whoever else wanted a free show) would gather ‘round and bring canned goods or other useful donations for area charities (hence “Giving Tree”). The University President spoke, the cheerleaders danced, choirs sang, a guy wandered around in a red suit, and Santa Claus made an appearance in an elaborate stage show on top of the Administration Building. (The other guy in the red suit was a retired faculty member who was introduced as having attended the most Giving Tree lighting ceremonies, something like forty or so.)

Anyway, about the only thing I did right in my approach was interviewing people. While I was keen enough to think to use nat sound – natural sound, the sounds of people talking, people singing, music playing, wind blowing, and so on – most of my piece involved after-the-fact interviews about how people felt this time of year. Troy said, and he was right, that more people discussed how they felt this time of the year, rather than anything about the tree. But, he did point out, there was a real sense of generosity and sharing hanging in the air that night and I managed to capture that. I guess that was good.

In the end, the piece turned out fine. It wasn’t for a grade – thankfully – and I don’t recall any comments on it, but it wasn’t something I put much thought into after the semester was over.

Little did I know what lay in store next year....

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Tree
(Liz Berlin/Michael Glabicki/Rusted Root/Jenn Wertz)
Rusted Root
From the album Cruel Sun
1992

Ever see the tree, ever feel yourself
Wrapped around the wind Let go of your desire

Desire will suffer in the send suffer the will,
will of the child the child will born on our death
Child will be born on our death

Oh let the child be born and be brought to the sun

As desire will come and suffer the will,
will will of the child (repeat 2 Times)

Everything is so beautiful
Everything is so simple now

Colors weave into symbols of life
symbols of life they weave into the wind
Oh weary child rest your head
Very soon the colors come alive

And the child will be born born on our death
child will be born on our death

Oh let the child be born and be brought to the sun
As the symbols of life weave into the wind (Repeat 1 time)

Because everything is simple now
Nothing has ever changed
The colors all weave with life
Let the weary child be born

Because everything is simple now
Nothing has ever changed
The colors all weave with life as we move into the wind

Matter of the Heart

While I still have some fleeing memories of my freshmen year, I feel something must be said about a silly little radio program called "A Matter of Heart" that ran weekdays during the mid-morning hours.

Not every aspect of college-operated radio stations was always student-created. While most programming elements will have had student involvement, there are going to be some public service announcements (PSAs) from the Ad Council or some syndicated public affairs programs airing alongside similar student fare.

"A Matter of Heart" was one such syndicated program: a boring, sixty-second, thinly disguised show about better health and heart issues that was underwritten by some medico group. It was the exact type of program that most college-aged student would find interesting in no way at all. An announcer with doubtful medical credentials spoke at length on issues involving the heart in a way that seemed to only drive home the medico company line. Nothing about the program was inviting by any stretch of the imagination, and all these years later I have to wonder why station management bothered using it in the first place, much less why it ran as long as it did. But I suppose it was part of our rumored responsibility to broadcast material that was beneficial to the listening public.

What stands out about "A Matter of Heart" was the theme music. I got the impression upperclassmen students had heard the music for a number of semesters prior to my arrival; those of us who were new would soon recognize it, too. It was a piece of music that everyone seemed to know by...well...heart, a miserable combination of generic production music plus a lethargic pulsation that sounded vaguely like an electronic Morse code message that looped itself continuously. Someone joked it was the announcer's electrocardiogram set to "closet music" (a term to describe generic music found in a production room the size of a closet). There was a short burst of this music at both the start and end of the program, each thankfully fading out to silence after six or seven seconds.

However this theme music also played the entirety of the thirty-second promotional spot that we had in rotation. Barking the benefits of listening, the announcer went on for about twenty-five seconds before finishing his generic promotion of his program. However, while he stopped talking, the music continued. Someone in charge of production was to tag the spot – that is, adding his or her voice to identify what day and time people could hear this wonderful program on our station. When I arrived, the spot was in rotation and tagged with Dr. Propel's voice, spoken in its trademark mock-important voice: "A Mah-tah...of HEART! Weekday mornings at 9 on FM 89.3." Or something like that.

It seemed Propel's vocal on the spot was just as memorable as the music (and for those who knew Propel, it was audible proof of his sheer goofiness). The following school year Propel was gone and teaching at another university in another state but his voice remained on the spot. For only a month or so, I’m afraid – the student Program Director my sophomore year (Frankie TNT) decided his voice needed to be heard and new version of the promo was debuted. That seemed to be the downfall for "A Matter of Heart," as the program seemed to soon fade from our station. Frankie TNT would soon fade away as well, but that’s another story.

I would assume "A Matter of Heart" aired during either classical (likely) or jazz (very likely) music shifts, and would also assume that the poor DJ who had to suffer through sixty seconds of health information would be redeemed by the music that made up his or her shift. And of that music, there’s as good a chance as any that there may have been some Joe McPhee in the mix. McPhee is the composer and instrumentalist who first made his name in the 1970s with a string of albums (led by Nation Time and Trinity) that were part of the improvisational jazz movement. After a series of albums in the 1980s and finding success overseas, McPhee later met up with fellow musicians Ken Vandermark and Kent Kessler (bass) to record a series of songs that resulted in the album, A Meeting in Chicago. McPhee continues to record and tour to wide acclaim, music never far from his heart.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Matter of the Heart
(Kent Kessler/Joe McPhee/Ken Vandermark)
Joe McPhee with Ken Vandermark and Kent Kessler
From the album A Meeting in Chicago
1998

A patient game that I can't find my way to play

In its simplest terms, a play list is an ordered record of songs that have been scheduled for air during any given time period (usually, in our cases, for one hour). While play lists (be it on paper or an electronic list via a computer screen) were a necessary requirement in commercial radio, I discovered throughout my years that play lists could often be bane of some college stations.

Many university-run stations I was aware of a decade ago seemed to be set on this idea of a free form fun-for-all shift, where the host plays "whatever" for two or three hours, followed by someone else with the same “whatever” mentality. That's fine and I think it's wise to allow that freedom; however I always felt it was horrendously disorganized and had the potential to leave out mass quantities of music that DJs didn’t always enjoy.

Hourly play lists at my undergraduate station were generated by a specialized computer application, one that had been in use for a long time, I always assumed. Midway through my association with the station, the music office received a number computer and we tried to install the application and transfer all our data – neither task worked, meaning bought us some new software and we had to start over from scratch with entering music. And this transition period was hardly enjoyable.

For the play list application to do its thing, station management (mainly the music director with the assistance of the music format coordinators) had to enter every potential playable track into the system. Or, as it usually was, every potential playable track that fit the sound of the station (see A falling star that you cannot live without). That meant every compact disc (or playable media – like vinyl discs for the classic rock show) was assigned a unique, incremental number; e.g. classical discs might be in the 10000 range, rock in the 50000 range, hip-hop the 30000s, and so on. Tracks, or cuts, from each album (record, disc, media – whatever) were then entered into the system, including basic information such as the title, artist, and song length.

Let's use one of our weekly preview discs as an example: the next available album number was 30451, and we wanted to add the eighth track on the album (Fugazi's "Blueprint") into rotation. This album/cut number was added into the software and thusly appeared on the play list as 30451-08. Whoever the music director was usually had his or her hands full with ensuring music was 1) labeled correctly on the disc, and 2) entered correctly into the computer application. Another responsibility of the music director was to print play lists in advance of the DJ shift so that the student on duty could simply go down the list and easily pull their three hours of music from the shelves.

So, yes, it did serve as a blue print of the hour, as it were. Some students had input into the creation of their play list, and most everyone’s list was edited during their shift to accommodate listener requests.

I don’t recall many requests for Fugazi, as I don’t think the music director entered much, if any, of it back into the computer system after the software transition. There were occasional “finds” of such music that someone would have to have come across by accident, and occasionally a knowledgeable DJs would play such a find as their own request; “Waiting Room” was one such track.

Band members Brendan Canty, Joe Lally, Ian MacKaye, and Guy Picciotto released Fugazi’s most recent album in 2001 (The Argument).

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Blueprint
(Fugazi)
Fugazi
From the album Repeater + 3 Songs
1990

I'm not playing with you,
I'm not playing with you,
I'm not playing with you,
I clean forgot how to play.
But you can still come around,
In fact I invite you down,
Maybe together we can wipe that smile off your face.
'Cause what a difference, what a difference, what a difference
A little difference would make.
We'll draw a blueprint, it must be easy,
It's just a matter of knowing when to say no or yes.
Frustrating, frustrating, always waiting for the bigger axe to fall.
A patient game that i can't find my way to play.
Never mind what's been selling,
It's what you're buying
and receiving undefiled.

Pop Quiz

The Introduction to Broadcasting course (see Broadcast) was sort of divided into two halves, with one half of the semester geared toward audio production and the rest of the year devoted to television, although there was of course some overlap. Naturally the audio elements were presented first – as a foundation – as it was understood (by most) that the later details of video production would be built on the earlier lessons of the semester.

This, then, would be a good place to briefly introduce Lanna Sexton, one of the obnoxious prima donnas of the class, who made it known she felt her attendance was an oversight and she was just ready to get her degree in television (i.e. radio was beneath her). We'll discuss some more about her later on.

The course began with Propel's introductory chatter about radio and television production in general. From there it was lessons on dayparts and target audiences (enter new word: demographics) and so on. The following week or so, when most of this seemingly basic and unnecessary information was dissipating, Propel decided to make good on his threat from the syllabus (enter another new word, for those new to college...).

I've noted some of Dr. Propel's classroom quirks (e.g. EBS threats, video montages); another such trait was his penchant for the unannounced pop quiz. The syllabus said to expect them anytime, be it any day of class or any time during class (nothing soured the morning more than getting through the first hour and ten minutes thinking we were home free and having him end class with a 20-question quiz). Propel usually segued from attendance or the lesson right into the quiz, with little fanfare; the only hint was his whimsical announcement, "It's time for a quiz."

After a brief pause, in which time Propel would contort his face into an impish grin of delight, we were then given a simple directives: "Take out...two...sheets...of pay-pah!" The phrase was known building wide and parodied often. The ridiculous stress on the word "two" and the silly pronunciation of the word "paper," plus the fact we heard it weekly, left an imprint on many people's psyche. Long after he had left the department people would still crack a grin when someone tried to do a Propel impression.

And what of the quiz? We were the Pop Quiz Kids, speedily moving about to get out our two pieces of paper (one to write on, the other to cover our answers) before he began asking questions because, as we learned, a question was only asked three times. He asked twice in the course of the quiz and if someone missed a question he would recite it once more. But never four times would a question be asked.

One of the first quizzes was asking the class to give our individual interpretation of the word "broadcasting." Most everyone had an answer that dealt with audio and video signals dancing across the ionosphere or something media-related. If memory serves, only one (or a scant few) knew the somewhat-dated definition involving seed scattering. Naturally, even while the curriculum discussed mass media and so on, Dr. Propel only wanted the archaic answer about seed scattering.

Such was the way of Dr. Propel.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Pop Quiz
(Mark Mancina)
Mark Mancina
From the album Speed: the Original Score
1994

The days I think about you, but what seems an eternity

Over the years there have been a few songs that I’ve heard fragments of only two or three times before they were lost into that tedious sound warehouse in the sky some refer to as the ionosphere. There is seldom a common bond between these songs and why I still remember those random thirty-second segments is something I don’t always understand myself. Was it the melody that caught my ear? Snappy lyrics? Catchy beat? Was it the fact I was doing something important when I first caught an earful of the song? Who knows? Here are but two Meditations on a Mix Tape.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

We were meant to be together...above the palm tree

For years I was aware of a brief bit of audiotape that I had surely recorded sometime in the early 1990s, a haunting tune with a certain tropical air to it. What made it difficult to identify was that whoever was singing made a point of quickly flowing his lyrics from one line another; only certain words were identifiable: “we were meant to be together” and something about a “palm tree.” But this sultry imagery combined with the breezy but faint sounds of crashing ocean waves did little to help me explain it to others, especially when young and naïve ears misinterpreted the line of the song – more so the title of the song – “Forbidden Love” as “The two that love.”

As an added insult was that by now I had misplaced the cassette – I was going on these lyrics by sheer memory – and naturally no sooner was the tape lost did I finally find an online forum dedicated to helping people identify lost songs. My attempts of explaining myself were all but successful - could I provide more lyrics? Have I tried a Peter Cetera lyric engine? No, my only real memory is the melody, something difficult for me to transcribe, and I again leave the mystery behind for another three or four years.

But when the cassette surfaced earlier this spring, I was surprised that the lyrics now were somewhat clearer and, more so, searchable. Finally I was able to put a name with a song: Bronx Style Bob and his minor hit, “Forbidden Love.” Bob Khaleel was the musician behind the song, a New York City native who had ties with Ice-T and House of Pain’s Everlast.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Just forget about the hard times left behind, and think of where you really want to go....

There was, once upon a time, a Norwegian trio of musicians that called themselves One 2 Many, which does not leave much to the imagination except the question of whether or not they preferred themselves a duo. Having a common phrase as a band name, albeit spelled differently, probably led to some confusion with some listeners, mistaking the band name with some random words from the DJ.

I first heard bits and pieces of their lone, hit single, “Downtown,” around 1988 or so. Because I usually heard the song long after it had begun, I never heard, much less knew, whether or not the DJ said anything as to the name of the band. By dumb luck, the one time I do hear the beginning of the song was the time I was recording music off the radio to audiocassette. Somewhere in his talk, the DJ made mention that this was one too many “Downtown” – leading me to believe this was one more in a long line of songs that couldn’t think of a better title than “Downtown.” Petula Clark was the only other “Downtown” I knew of then, but since, Lloyd Cole and Neil Young have had their own “Downtown,” too.

While I had listened to the cassette over the years, it wasn’t until maybe fifteen years had passed before I decided to play detective and figure out if anything about the long-forgotten song had made it into the digital age. Thumbing through an online listing of Top 40 hits, I spotted the song title and stared stupidly at the band name: One 2 Many. The name of the band was out there, just not something I was able to grasp.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Forbidden Love
(Bob Khalil)
Bronx Style Bob
From the album Gramma's Ghost
1992

Can you bring the light, my children?
Can you bring the light, my love?

Smile was like the night laughing in the water
The deeper inside is all the purecy of love
We'll have it like the past
And the grass is for the universe
To thinking we're born way to live down a dream

Refrain 1:
My love, I suppose this is well life a bonus
And when the marchingband players
Takes me away, you love

Refrain 2:
Forbidden love, but we were meant to be together
Forbidden passions over fridge above the palmtree
Forbidden love, but we were meant to be together
Forbidden passions over fridge above the palmtree

Above the clouds
Where my grandmother fought with the guns of life
Above the wings
Where the angels dance

Blessed by the roots of love I should know you
Promised by the god I shall exist for you

And I love you, I need you
I love you, I need you

Refrain 2

You know I love you, baby
Yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I shall love, I shall want you 'till the end of time
When you're goin' and you hide, you know it
That you're on my mind

Forbidden love, but we were meant to be together
Forbidden passions over fridge above the palmtree

Ah, aha
Yeah
Yeaheaheaheah

The days I think about you
But what seems an eternity
To keep your overconscience
I prophesize my own destiny

And when you go I'll be right there
Wait 'till the land's above the sky, you know
To build on the woods of love
Sees that love don't die

Refrain 2

Ahaha
Yeaheaheah

Refrain 1

Right there and then I knew that something was gonna happen, but I couldn’t say what

As a radio format, the term "world music" brings to mind the concept of a radio station mixing together various forms of popular music from a multitude of ethnic groups. If I were in charge of a North American "rock" based world music program, I might try and find what was popular in Norway, Japan, India, maybe Sudan, and perhaps Peru, too.

And that's the sort of thing I thought the "world beat" format would be during graduate school. The station boasted its two-hour weekend program of world music, and I started checking out the music soon after assuming my role as station manger. It wasn't an impressive collection but then most weekend programs didn't have much in the way of programmable music. That's why it was a weekend show: "world beat" probably received scant airtime in an effort to give the community some sort of variety. That, or the station's faculty advisor, Grace Mittendorf, thought it made the station sound more adventurous.

Whatever the reason, it took little effort to realize that this station's definition of "world beat" was reggae music and not much else. I remember making the mistake of asking why we just didn't call the two hours on Saturday night "the Reggae show." Because, I was told, there was more than just reggae played. There was some mbaqanga music from Africa and someone found a Taiko/rap album in the giveaway closet and put it in rotation, too. I then made a second mistake by asking, since there was some non-reggae music, why we didn't make an effort of expanding the non-reggae selections, getting some more sounds from around the world. Because, I was told, that the reggae was what was most popular with listeners and it was the most familiar with the students programming the two hours of music – so what good was it to bring in other discs? I apparently had not learned from my mistakes and asked the first question a second time. It was a cycle, not necessarily vicious, but one I didn't want to pretend to be interested in anymore and so I quickly let the matter drop.

So my exciting exploration in new music focused mostly on reggae. That's hardly a bad thing because there is a lot of good reggae music out there in as many varied forms as there is R&B, folk, and rock forms of music in the United States. Some names are quite prominent and are considered icons of the genre (Bob Marley, for the example), while other bands bring a reggae hybrid to their pop sounds (UB40, maybe).

Jamaican based Freddie McGregor was someone I was not previously aware of but had one of the newer albums in rotation when I showed up. McGregor has been involved with music for decades, having joined his first band (the Clarendonians) at age seven and later scored a series of popular solo albums in the 1980s. McGregor continues to record and produce music; his latest album in 2005’s Comin' in Tough.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
I Wish There Was a Way
(Noel Browne/Freddie McGregor)
Freddie McGregor
From the album Masterpiece
1997

Oh, the sisters crying out for a brother’s help
Give a hand if you can, yeah

Oh, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice
Oh, Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice, oh, Lord

I looked and I behold and saw her peeping through the window
I saw true lovin’ in her eyes, yeah
Right there and then I knew that something was gonna happen
But I couldn’t say what, and I keep thinkin’

Oh, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice
Oh, Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice

Could not be an ordinary feelin’, no, no
It’s coming from deep within, yeah, yeah
Your eyes it shows me so much meanin’
It makes me wonder where it begins, and I keep thinkin’

Oh, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice
Oh, Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice, oh, Lord

Nah-nah-nah-nah, yeah
Oh, the sisters calling out for a brother’s help
Oh, Lord

I looked and I behold and saw her peeping through the window
I saw true lovin’ in her eyes, yeah
Right there and then I knew that something was gonna happen
But I couldn’t say what, and I keep thinkin’

Oh, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice
Oh, Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice, oh, Lord

I looked and I behold and saw her peeping through the window
I saw true loving in her eyes, yeah
Right there and then I knew that something was gonna happen
But I couldn’t say what, and I keep thinkin’

Oh, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice
Oh, Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice, oh, Lord

Oh, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know just the way to make that sacrifice
Oh, Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind
And I know, I know the way to make that sacrifice

Lord, I wish, I wish there was a way that I could read your mind, sister
And I know, I know the way to make that sacrifice

You didn't miss by far, you know you came this close

My undergraduate station played more Thomas Dolby than it probably gave itself credit for. It probably didn’t even know it played that much.

There were the obligatory Science and Hyperactive flashbacks during the rock shifts - but Science didn't age very well and sounded very out of place; few people seemed to remember anything about Hyperactive. There was the occasional modern track, such as the very cool Close but No Cigar, which appeared on one of the old weekly preview discs, but what infrequent airtime it had was diminished when the station received a new computer system and thus never put a lot of songs back into rotation.

Still, no Thomas Dolby song comes to mind at college more than Airhead. Airhead was a featured track on one of those College Music Journal (CMJ) compilation discs, discs that were mostly regulated to the Pit program (see Kill the Crow). I laugh when I hear the song now because while it was never played in its entirety, the song was featured at least four or five times every weekday and I doubt anyone ever knew what song it was.

How?

I made mention that in addition to students preparing news and sports broadcasts, one student was usually charged with the creation and maintenance of the various production components – which for this anecdote meant the news and sports intros. There were two separate, brief introductions consisting of a voice-over-music that allowed a distinct segue from one type of programming into news and sports (see Sleeping Beauty). For reasons never made clear I chose to use Airhead for the sports bed music, mainly because it had a "sound" that broke away from the trend that sports music must sound like something off ESPN. Airhead had a funky keyboard introduction that I thought would be different and become somewhat memorable. I, once again, was right.

The sports introduction was probably no more than 15 seconds, and I had convinced one of the instructors to do the vocals, which were rattled off somewhat quickly before Dolby kicked in the keyboard groove of the song.

The idea was that the music would be faded out as the student read his or her sport stories. And there lies the problem that made this memorable: it was a music bed (see Something Wicked This Way Comes) and with that came the established concept that one would mix the voice over the music. Nevertheless one student (Dustin) always waited until the music faded out into dead air before he said a word. Student management, listening in the station office, took notice of his trend, if only because they had heard countless sportscasts each day and it didn’t take much to notice Dustin was the only one not to talk over the music. We had gotten to the middle of the semester by this point and he had timed himself to only begin talking once the music was about to disappear completely. I don't know why he did this - I don't think it was done to be spiteful. I just don’t think he wanted to. (Did he really need a reason?)

In any case, the hints sent Dustin’s way from the Sports Director and others were not enough to make Dustin "get it" - until the day I changed the introduction. I had gotten some laughs from a few people when I wondered aloud what he would do if the music was lengthened. Would he sit and wait while a three-minute song played? It was all in jest at first, but then I decided to act. Airhead had at least 40 seconds of music before Dolby's vocals kicked in. It would take little effort or time to quickly edit together a new introduction with a longer music bed. Plus, with a little creative editing the instrumental could easily be looped into a piece of music as long as I wanted.

The modified intro was ready for Dustin's next sportscast and a few of us waited in the office to listen as Dustin calmly waited for the music to fade out - but it never did. Awkward, sort of uncomfortable sounds were heard as Dustin waited, but he finally gave in and – probably – began to talk about some national sports story. That then leads to another issue about mixing, this time about the sports staff reporting both local sports stories and national scores. Some people made an effort to make the local high school football games interesting, and others came close – but no cigar.

But Dustin got the hint. Talk about radio silence.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Close but No Cigar
(Thomas Dolby/Lost Toy People)
Thomas Dolby
From the album Astronauts & Heretics
1992

You came close
Close but no cigar
You didn't miss by far
You know you came this close
Close but no cigar

Some people sing love songs
Everybody's got one
This isn't my love song
It's more like my love gone wrong song...

She came to breakfast
And stayed a week
But the lie detectors
Broke down each time she tried to speak
Broke down when she said :

"You came close
Close but no cigar
You didn't miss by far
You know you came this close
Close but no cigar
No matter where you are
You know you came this close
Close but no cigar"

I remember - I remember - I remember
The promise in your eyes
As black as the night I drove you to the airport
And I remember - I remember - I remember
The wide Brazillian sky that swallowed you

Then I hit thirty
Guess I can't complain
But I must have been lonely
The night I bumped into Lorraine
She came for coffee
And stayed all night
But the lie detectors
Broke down every time I tried to smile
Broke down like the store of my life
And each dream I missed by half a mile
Broke down when I told her:

"You came close
close but no cigar
You didn't miss by far
You know you came this close
close but no cigar
No matter where you are
You know you came so close
Close but no cigar
You didn't miss by far
You know you came this close
Close but no cigar
We're better off by far
But you know we came this close
Close but no cigar

Broadcast

Introduction to Broadcasting was a 100-level course (COM 136) that was supposed to be the first class you took as a communication major in the communication building. I only point that out now because it didn't work out that way later for someone else. But that's another story.

It was an introduction of many things for me, notably the dual distinction of being my first class – first ever at college and first ever in the communication building. It was also my first of many classes to commence at eight o'clock in the morning. It was a three-hour lecture course offered at varying times that semester; I signed up for the session that met Tuesday and Thursday mornings from 8-9:30. Yes, I was a freshman and didn't know better (I like to think I had a scheduling conflict and had no other choice but who knows...).

The course (casually referred to either as "I2B" ["eye-two-bee"] or "'tro" [short for "intro"] by those people who thought it sounded hip but were, in fact, the tragically unhip) met in room 321, probably the largest classroom in the three-story building. For years I thought it was the only classroom in the building; while that may not be far from the truth, I think it just the one classroom dedicated to Communication classes (other rooms were designated for others uses - print journalism, photography, or whatever other programs the building housed).

What made the somewhat daunting coursework slightly more enjoyable was the instructor, the legendary Dr. Harvey Propel. His circle of influence probably didn't extend much past the Morra County line but that was okay – all communication majors knew who he was, what he represented, and why they should fear him. What he represented was the radio station - in addition to teaching he served as the faculty advisor for all us undergrads.

We shouldn't have feared him (I really don't think many did): he was a weedy, thin, little man, probably in his late-thirties, more known for his personality ticks than anything else. One thing that stood out was his lack of color – black slacks, a white-toned shirt (never solid but with faint stripes or patterns), and a black tie; to match was his fussy tuff of near-white hair, perhaps bleach-blond, cropped short atop his head that was as round as a balloon slowing loosing air. The corners of his mouth were usually turned up, giving him this perpetual jovial expression, but I think his face froze that way - he could become somewhat sardonic.

However, this being radio, appearances really didn't matter too much. This, then, brought up another memorable trait – his voice. Propel had a fairly easy-going voice (and mentality to match) that fluctuated to suit his audience: in class there was a sing-song tone that came off a bit nasally, especially when he got wound up on some topic. Behind the mic, he sounded smooth and resonant and confident, yet you could still his cockiness.

In addition, there was one of the accompanying 100-level lab sessions that you had to take along with Propel’s class, essentially the hands-on practicum that went along with whatever we were discussing in class that week. Propel was in charge of those, too, and just as loony as he could be in the classroom.

All in all, it wasn't a memorable class for the material – it was, after all, just an introduction to some rather basic information that we would get force fed many more times before we graduated – but memorable for the instructor.

And I feel a quiz coming on.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Broadcast
(Strawpeople)
Strawpeople
From the album Broadcast
1994

I'm not scared, I'm outta here

A few reminders about this song, especially this time of year...never have I seen, more so heard, so many people misunderstand the concept of a "false ending."

The phrase is self-explanatory (or so I thought). You’re a DJ and the song you’re playing starts to wind down. You’re paying attention and you think you can guess as to when it will end. But – hold on - it’s not really the end, so you have to be ready for the real ending that will follow, either a second later or longer. Electrolite ends with Michael Stipe singing, "I'm not scared, I'm outta here." The music is trailing off and the impending end of the song is close at hand and just when you think he’s done singing whatever it is the song is about, he adds one more "I'm not scared." The music has ended by now and following a brief pause, he adds a final, "I'm outta here."

Perhaps, as student management, we had chastised anything remotely similar to "dead air" upon our fellow undergraduates. Perhaps these DJs wanted to tighten their board and not waste those precious seconds of empty airtime. Whatever the case, no sooner had we entered Electrolite into rotation did we discover that DJs were assuming that once the music was over that the song was over. No, that would be a false assumption – similar in concept to the aforementioned false ending. Yes, once they assumed the song had ended, people were beginning another song, running a station liner or sweeper, or (funniest yet) opening the microphone and talking – just to be interrupted by Stipe's singing a few seconds later.

In an attempt to make things easier on the staff – since these same DJs were not bothering to put the CD into the cue channel and listen to the ending before they played it on the air, which would have solved this problem – the music director added a note to the playlist that this song had a false ending. From there it was always a hoot to hear which people read the playlist verses those who didn't. If we, as station management, "magically" showed up a few minutes later, more often than not the DJ would mutter something about the trick ending of the song throwing them off. After a while you could only smile and nod – and then point out the note on the playlist. That is, if you wanted to spend that time beating it back into their head.

I personally knew about the ending because I owned a copy of the album and had listened to the song numerous times, becoming familiar with the nursery rhyme-like simplicity of its wistful lyrics. You wanted to sing-along with phrases like Steve McQueen and James Dean – know what I mean? It spoke of a loss and of how things could have been and sounded anything-but-upbeat and thus was the perfect song for me to sign-off with when ending a melancholy Halloween evening a decade ago –

Descanse en la paz.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Electrolite
(Bill Berry/Peter Buck/Mike Mills/Michael Stipe)
R.E.M.
From the album New Adventures in High-Fi
1996

Your eyes are burning holes through me
I'm gasoline
I'm burnin' clean

Twentieth century go and sleep
You're Pleistocene
That is obscene
That is obscene

(chorus)
You are the star tonight
Your sun electric, outta sight
Your light eclipsed the moon tonight
Electrolite
You're outta sight

If I ever want to fly
Mulholland Drive
I am alive

Hollywood is under me
I'm Martin Sheen
I'm Steve McQueen
I'm Jimmy Dean

(repeat chorus)

If you ever want to fly
Mulholland Drive
Up in the sky
Stand on a cliff and look down there
Don't be scared, you are alive
You are alive

(repeat chorus)

Twentieth century go and sleep
Really deep
We won't blink

Your eyes are burning holes through me
I'm not scared
I'm outta here
I'm not scared
I'm outta here

Can't wait for tomorrow, I might not have that long

Halloween at the undergraduate radio station didn't always come across as the big deal that one might think it would. One might think we would spend all our time "spookifying" the station both in looks and sounds to give it that haunted edge. I think about it and assume the reason we didn't go too wild was because we were students and needed to focus our time on other things. Halloween was just one day – one night, in reality – and to go into all that prep work just to give ourselves that satisfaction, however small, probably wasn't worth the overall effort.

I seem to recall a few people dressed-up here and there in costumes, but no costume really stands out all these years later. There were some girls in the department who liked dying their hair green or magenta year-round but when October 31 rolled around we didn't know if it was part of their costume or just a fresh scalp recoloring. No Thriller dancers, either.

We did try to find songs or music groups that had a certain "autumn" feel to them. We didn't go as far as playing Monster Mash (...though that might have been an interesting idea...) but I know a few of us tried to ensnare the Smashing Pumpkins into the mix. That's the band, mind you, and not broken pieces of gourds.

Which reminds me that I did have a roommate at one point who thought it would be cool to see what kind of damage he could do with a pumpkin and a screen-less fourth story window. His name was Benjamin Hale and I think he thought himself pretty slick in pulling this "trick" off. He might have gotten away with it, too, had it not been for a few things he overlooked. One was the fact our window was the only one without a screen. Not an earth-shattering point, I know, but these old aluminum frames were locked on to the window so they couldn't be removed precisely for this reason. And since every other window in the housing complex had an outside screen, it wasn't going to take long for even the dimmest Resident Advisor (that being Carlos Maña, the third floor RA) to figure out what happened.

Ben's second problem was not something immediately noticed because it did not present itself until after the fact. Fact is Ben had gotten a fairly large pumpkin. More so, I think Ben had stolen this large gourd from one of the outside displays at Conglomo and smuggled back into the room with the "assistance" of our neighbors, Artie and Jerry, with the full intent of tossing it out of the window. Allow me to insert another small point: Ben liked it warm in the room and kept the heater on. So by the time Ben got up the nerve to throw the thing out the window, it had been subject to many a warm day and night and gave me another reason to dislike the taste – and smell – of pumpkins.

I chose to be elsewhere the fateful night – probably across the street at the radio station – and therefore missed what I heard turned into a bigger mess than expected. Because of the pumpkin's size and weight, Ben's attempt to lob the thing didn't quite work the way he wanted. First, it snagged our air conditioner unit. Then, because it didn't have much in the way of forward motion, it fell straight downward – directly in the path of the air conditioner unit below us. A large metallic clang echoed throughout the parking lot, I was told later. That didn't help its trajectory, nor did the two air conditioner units on the first and second floor. Thankfully each hit did worse wear to the pumpkin than the air conditioners.

The next morning all the evidence of autumn was there for all to see: the tell-tale orange marks from the fourth floor window downward, and the foul-smelling remnants of a pumpkin directly below our window. Ben, at least, had the decency to take responsibility for it and saved me for paying the damage fee (something like 10 or 20 bucks to clean up the mess and replace the screen).

Elsewhere...nobody wanted to dress up like Billy Corgan. I thought it would have been fun for someone to shave his (or her) head and walk around all angst-ridden though still trying not to be confused for Kowalczyk or O'Connor or Stipe. I never gauged my peers to figure out whether people were into the Smashing Pumpkins or not, but I think a lot of people were perplexed at the amount of music he could create that just sorted of droned on and on and on....

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Today
(Corgan)
Smashing Pumpkins
From the album Siamese Dream
1993

Today is the greatest
Day I've ever known
Can't live for tomorrow,
Tomorrow's much too long
I'll burn my eyes out
Before I get out

I wanted more
Than life could ever grant me
Bored by the chore
Of saving face

Today is the greatest
Day I've ever known
Can't wait for tomorrow
I might not have that long
I'll tear my heart out
Before I get out

Pink ribbon scars
That never forget
I tried so hard
To cleanse these regrets
My angel wings
Were bruised and restrained
My belly stings

Today is
Today is
Today is
The greatest day

I want to turn you on
I want to turn you on
I want to turn you on
I want to turn you

Today is the greatest
Today is the greatest day
Today is the greatest day
That I have ever really known.

You have to believe you can do it if you wanna just do what you please

It's sort of hard to believe that ten years ago I first heard of Ray Wilson.

When I got back from summer vacation – back when I was a senior – I met up with some of the cronies who had put in time over the summer at the radio station. I don't think there was ever anyone to work exclusively at the station, but there were always a few who liked to pull a few extra shifts closer to the start of the fall semester.

I stopped in to announce my return and visit with whomever I found, as well as to take a peek at the weekly preview discs that we had received over the summer months. One thing caught my eye: Genesis. I was keenly aware of the group, after hearing Invisible Touch-era music for years on the radio, and after playing the only non-scratched cut off their 1983 album during our classic rock programming (sigh - Illegal Alien). But this was something new – Congo – and should sound vastly different since Phil Collins was no longer part of the band, having been replaced by...and then there was who? Ah, the aforementioned Ray Wilson.

I remember someone made the comment that the album was doomed because it didn't have that "P-Sound." It took me a second for that to sink in (when did Genesis ever sound like George Clinton?) until I realized "Ray" didn't start with the letter "P" the way "Phil" and "Peter" did. Therefore the puzzle piqued my interest: who was Ray Wilson? Where did Mike and Tony find this guy?

Well, I suppose if I knew more about 90's rock in the UK, then I would have heard of Stiltskin and Wilson's association with that outfit. But I hadn't. And I don't think many people at the radio station were too eager to seek out Stiltskin's 1994 album, either. If anything, Ray made me want to seek out some of the Peter-era music and see what was going on before I was born. It also made me want to hear more of the Collins-era that I thought I knew something about (based solely on his last three studio albums). Calling All Stations – or as we quipped, "Calling Any Station" – apparently did not make the impact it thought it would.

But I think that's a bit unfair. As I said, it's hard to believe ten years have passed since I first heard Congo and in that time, the song's grown on me. So has the album, which I found secondhand a few years ago and have turned on more than a few times. Having heard the entire Genesis studio output from their...well...literal Genesis forward, I must confess to finding Wilson's album a welcome change. With no ill will to Collins, Calling All Stations is somewhat refreshing in places, without those flourishes that made later day Genesis albums and solo-Collins output indistinguishable. Many reviews have noted an attempted return to the band's progressive roots and those comments are not arguable. Pockets of uncertainty bubble up in places – a couple tracks sound like one extended lament for a better life somewhere else – but on the whole the album isn’t bad and could have been the third stage of the band - had the thoughts and gestures of the band’s remaining core not crawled off into obscurity.

The Genesis of today is out on tour and again fronted by Collins. Wilson has continued his musical endeavors, too, with the 1999 album Millionairhead and a second Stiltskin album in 2006.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Congo
(Tony Banks/Mike Rutherford)
Genesis
From the album Calling All Stations
1997

You say that I put chains on you
But I don't think that's really true
But if you want to be free from me
You gotta lose me in another world

Send me to the Congo I'm free to leave
There's always somewhere anybody can lead
Send me to the Congo you have to believe
You can do it if you wanna just do what you please

Like a soldier ant
I will wait for the signal to act
To take a walk right through the door
If you don't want me here any more

Send me to the Congo I'm free to leave
There's always somewhere anybody can lead
Send me to the Congo you have to believe
You can do it if you wanna just do what you please

Into my heart you came
And gave a whole new meaning to my life
Into my world you brought a light
I thought it never would go out

Send me to the Congo I'm free to leave
There's always somewhere anybody can lead
Send me to the Congo you have to believe
You can do it if you wanna just do what you please

You can send me to the Congo I'm free to leave
There's always somewhere anybody can lead
Yes you can send me to the Congo, you have to believe
You can do it if you wanna just do what you please

I would never be the one to say you had no reason
To want me somewhere else far far away
But someday you may understand, someday you will see
That someone who would die for you is all I've ever been

Congo the Congo, if that's how it's got to be
Congo the Congo, if that's what you want from me

I would never be the one to say you had no reason
To want me somewhere else far far away
Someday you may understand someday you will see...

You get caught up in all the motion and never hear the simple things when they call

Our Saturday morning folk show (see Jesse James behind the wheel) at the undergraduate station was a hybrid of music, a juxtaposition of sounds that didn't always sound the best together but we made them work the best we could. The majority of music played during the four hours was generally referred to as "contemporary folk." In reality, I suspect most of it could have easily been played during the "softer" rock shifts; the only reason why it wasn't probably had to do with popularity. That is, Counting Crows could sound folkie but were still thought of a rock group. Sons of the Never Wrong were classified as folk and it was the folk show that highlighted them. Regularly.

Brad Phasner, the originator of the folk program, had sent word to records labels and magazines promoting this as well as asking for complimentary copies of albums to help boost our fledging library. One of the discs received was Three Good Reasons by a Chicago-based group called Sons of the Never Wrong. It did not take long for the title track to garner airplay and become a fast favorite of Brad, me, and listeners who called in asking who they were.

They were Sue Demel, Bruce Roper, and Nancy Walker, taking their collective name from mumbling through The Guns of Navarone. Three Good Reasons was their debut release on the Waterbug label, and four more albums have followed, the most recent being 2005’s Nuthatch Suite. Walker has since been replaced by Deborah Lader.

Three good things about listeners during the folk show that I never got from other shifts? One, listeners actually seemed generally interested in the music. There was no other format I was aware of that had people calling in and wanting to know where we got the album. Could they get a copy? (No.) Could we tell them how to buy a copy? (Yes.) Which is why Brad always gave out record label information in the early days of the program. Second, listeners seldom sounded like students, which all but proved that this type of music was attracting a community-wide audience that had only been assumed. Now we had proof. And certain people called often enough you might recognize voices. Third, and most bizarre to me, was that listeners went to bat for us. When the folk show was bumped from Saturday to Sunday mornings because of the Foreign Language department, I was told a few people called to protest – one going as far to say he would skip church for this music. I always assumed he ended up missing church because, while appreciated, his one call didn't sway station management.

There may have been a fourth reason but I couldn't think of it at the moment.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Three Good Reasons
(Roper)
Sons of the Never Wrong
From the album Three Good Reasons
1995

And Mary was amazed that they would ever even meet
But god her help he sought his trinity to complete
And god said to Mary
Dear Mary please trust me what I’m about to do
But I’ve got three good reasons
Three good reasons
Three good reasons
And one of them is you

And there are three sisters
One prayer, one hymn, one graces
Whose countenance is required in whole or part
And often found in quite places
They will stand and watch over your shoulder
Smile on and see you through
Cause they’ve got three good reasons
Three good reasons
Three good reasons
And one of them is you

And where the ocean meets the land everything seems to rise and fall
You get caught up in all the motion
And never hear the simple things when they call
Oh you can stand out on a mountain top
And why the sky’s so blue
But that’s cause there are three good reasons
Three good reasons
Three good reasons
And one of them is you

What's the matter can't find your manual

An announcement, dear friend
You are about to receive on Paulie Zizzo,
Getting shocked, and the transmission of noise....

I think every job or profession has identified a moment labeled as the "worst-case scenario," something someone once dreamt up that would indicate major deficiencies or spell utter disaster for the people involved, but because the situation was so random, unbelievable, and totally out of the ordinary that the need for preventive training was just as ridiculous as the conceived event. Surely the combined knowledge, skills, and abilities of the staff would preclude the need for even worrying about such an affair. Even if those things failed, wouldn't common sense and competence reign?

In short, no – never assume anything.

It happened on a Saturday. I was at home listening to the radio station, half pretending to be critiquing how things sounded, and half pretending to be working on class assignments.

Every week I tried to go through the traffic log and put in one “random” weekly test of the Emergency Alert System (EAS). While there was one test marked ahead of time, it wasn’t unusual for me to call up the station out of the blue (or purple) and ask whoever was there to perform a test just to see how prepared they were. I enjoyed these spur-of-the-moment calls though I’m sure the staff found it somewhat annoying (see Nervous children making millions: you owe it all to them). When I distributed the logs earlier in this week I had set aside one weekly test on Saturday morning because I felt that the weekend people hadn’t had enough exposure to the EAS. I probably also scheduled it during Paulie’s shift just to see how well he would get through such a test. While I knew he would make an attempt – one or two people in the past had known blown it off, much to their mistake - I wasn’t sure if he would be confident in his execution.

However when Saturday rolled around I had forgotten my plan. Then the phone rang. I left the bedroom/office and went into the other room to talk with someone – family? Friends? Who knows. I returned a few minutes later and picked up where I left off. Then the phone rang again.

It was Dina, the station pariah-in-training: “Did you just hear that?” she snapped. No, I answered, I was in the other room. “Well, you’ve got to say something to Paulie.” Why, I asked. “Because,” Dina sputtered, “he just blew through the EAS test.”

Hesitantly I asked what Paulie did. I wasn’t at all ready for the answer.

“He mouthed the tones!”
“What?”
“He mouthed the t--”
“Whadya mean, ‘He mouthed the tones?’”
“He mouthed the tones, Marty!”

Yes, the one thing that I never would have dreamed anybody would have thought to do did in fact happen. Paulie, unable to pull off a successful EAS test, muddled his way through by making the test sound effects with his mouth. As I tried to imagine how this must have sounded, I cringed again – there were no tones to an EAS test, just electronic pulses and signals.

Ah, perfect – Paulie had mouthed the old EBS tones (see Electronic Behavior Control System). For sure, the FCC would love us now. Plus this didn’t bode well for me and my ability to train the staff.

Hanging up on Dina, I called Paulie and casually asked, “So, Paulie....what’s happening?”

Paulie rambled through a story about getting confused and making the decision to come up with something to satisfy the requirement as shown in the traffic log when he couldn’t think of anything to do. With a heavy sigh, I explained that I would have rather he called someone and ask for assistance than do what he did. The FCC probably wouldn’t be too keen on such things, and what listening audience was enjoying this week’s edition of “Nuggets’ Sounds of the Sixties” (see Cause it's home, the only life I've ever known) probably didn’t appreciate the unprofessionalism. Neither did I for that matter.

How does one’s mind come up with the idea of doing this? Why would someone get notion that it would be okay to do this? Who would want to imitate a noise live on the radio? Didn’t he pay attention during training? Couldn’t he find the manual? Didn’t he know his noises would call unwanted attention? Man, I wished I had the tape deck going on this one.

I added to this my complaint file – the facts that I had gathered and requested the faculty advisor look at – about Paulie that had come from both students and listeners. However the faculty advisor came back with a response that blew me away, one almost as bad as Paulie mouthing the tones: “But he plays such good music.”

That floored me. Yes, the boy shouldn't be on the air 6 to 8 hours straight and his performance has been critiqued by everyone in the county and now he’s broken FCC regulations by making noises with his mouth to emulate an EAS test but, darn it, that is sure some good music he's playing.

All in all, it was the first of many things there that made me want to tell these people to “SHUT UP!”

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Shut Up
(Here Are the Facts You Requested)
Here Are the Facts You Requested
From the album Shocks and Struts
1998

Shut up you got such a mad mouth
Shut up what you got inside
wake up walk it to the shower
your warm soapy water don't lie
take me to the farm. take me now

what do you need beyond this vibration?
I got three you can have em for free
all that yin yang sittin in your shelf
wanna taste wealth try pawnin off yourself
take me to the farm. take take me to the pawnshop
take me to the farm. take take me to the pawnshop
take me to the pawnshop
take me to the pawnshop, pawnshop allright

forget what you got in mind
nobody hears what you yell inside
a dollar and a dime just ain't gonna buy
anything but a sigh and just a taste of love
such a taste of love
such a taste of love
such a taste of love
take me to the farm. take it sell this guy my ganga hangin in the pawnshop
take me to the farm. take it sell this guy my ganga hangin in the pawnshop
take me to the farm. take it sell this guy my ganga standin in the pornshop
take me to the farm. take it take me to the pawnshop buy myself some ganga

what's the matter can't find your manual
you own the map but you left it at home
pickup a phone, but you ain't got a phonebook
and you cry like a weasel though you taste like an eagle - no!
benefit for pawnshops such a taste of love y'all
better git your porkchop gonna harvest ganga
benefit for pawnshops sick myself a bag full
when I buy some ganga then I take it to the pawnshop

I'm having a good time, patching holes in my head

If you've ever seen the Red Elvises then you probably remember them as the group that had the red triangle thing that one guy plays as an instrument. That, and you've probably made the connection between "Red," in reference to old Russia, and "Elvis," for the rock-n-roll, in their moniker. Hailing from ex-Soviet states, the band began in California in the 1990s and has been together since in various incarnations and never really sagging in popularity. Of course, with a name like “Red Elvises” you expect that the band enjoys a good party.

I had never heard of them but a copy of I Wanna See You Belly Dance was in the main studio and it was revered as a good album by a lot of people on staff. I admit it wasn't my cup of tea, but I was usually not in the majority during my stint as station manager. Some of the station staff had some fun with their name, jokingly calling them Rush n' Radio, Red Can Too, Soviet Rock, Red Con Tiki, Czech it Out, and so on (I never got most of the names, but that’s me...). After a few listens I was able to appreciate it and thought the album wasn't bad. Still, I wasn't prepared for the roar of excitement that was to come when it was announced that the Red Elvises were touring the country and would be on campus during the spring semester. I had to chuckle at the bands that toured this backwater city - Luther Campbell's 2 Live Crew (two or three years prior to my time), Vanilla Ice (one or two years after my time, see This is a hell of a concept: we make it hype and you want to step with this), Garbage, and now the Red Elvises.

Now the Red Elvises were signed to play Spring Fest, some sort of collegiate-sponsored Saturday when all the student organizations met and setup in and around the football field. The radio station was there to cover the event, as well as broadcast from the event to allow others to see us in action. It was a given that I would have to help setup; I hung around after we got settled, even going on air a few times in what, I realize now, were probably some of my last live radio moments.

Paulie Zizzo was on the air for most of this Saturday, as he was every Saturday (see Cause it's home, the only life I've ever known). When his shift was over, though, he arrived on the scene and started interacting with the small crowd hanging around the remote equipment. Quickly I learned Paulie treated everyone as a friend and, for the most part, everyone treated him as one of his or her gang. He'd go and talk to one crowd of people, disappear, and then come back from another direction engrossed in discussion with someone else. Whether or not these people knew him well or just recognized him as the kid with the bizarre appearance is hard to say, but, long story short, Paulie was popular.

Here is where it got weird: toward the end of the event the mediocre music that had been playing for most of the day was replaced the loud, rocking sounds of the Red Elvises. Most of the events had wound down anyway, allowing things to turn into a large, outdoor concert. As we were done with the remote, I hauled things to my car – and stopped short when I saw Paulie dancing on stage with the Red Elvises. Talk about flashbacks to Woodstock: Paulie's interpretive dance consisted of swaying, air guitars, and free love. Well...not the free love – mostly just the swaying and air guitars.

I turned to Lois, the news director and part time DJ, as we packed and asked how Paulie ended up on stage. Unbeknownst to me, the previous night the Red Elvises had shown up at the station wanting to plug their show. Paulie had been hanging around...and one thing to led to another...and he was in. They recognized the Young Dude from the radio station and brought him up to the stage for a few numbers. As I said, he really knew how to fit in with people.

Of course, I then asked why I wasn't told the station had guests the night before – but that's another story.

Oh – the red, big triangle I mentioned earlier was a balalaika, a stringed musical instrument of Russian origin. It looked bigger than the guy playing it, a guy that a number of people dubbed Triangle Man. Triangle Man, Triangle Man, Triangle Man meets Young Dude Man. They have a dance, Triangle wins. Go figure, Young Dude Man.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Voodoo Doll
(Zhenya Kolykhanov)
The Red Elvises
From the album I Wanna See You Belly Dance
1998

Small voodoo doll, looks like me, that's what she's got in her hand,
Sitting and thinking what went wrong, how did we get to the end?
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

I'm having a good time, patching holes in my head,
I'm having a good time, can't get better than that,
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

There she goes, grabs a needle, shoves it through my heart,
I don't understand the way she giggles, I think she went little far,
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

I'm having a good time, patching holes in my head,
I'm having a good time, can't get better than that,
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

Give me something I can rely on

Here’s another of those songs that apparently came out of nowhere. I always assumed Monaco was popular somewhere – why else would it have been included on a weekly preview disc? Maybe we made it popular after our continuous airings? Well, at least popular to the campus listening audience. It certainly was somewhat popular with station staff, as I recall it found its way onto many 1997-era playlists, including mine on those occasions I filled in on the rock shifts.

While I liked the song I didn’t immediately understand its importance. Then down the road a bit I discovered that Monaco was a side project of Peter Hook. This tidbit meant precious little to me, until it was explained to me that Hook was a one-time member of New Order. This, then, surely explained why the overall affect of Monaco was lost on me. I knew very little about New Order. Those people on staff who had grown up with New Order and Joy Division were ecstatic about playing the bouncy pop tune. Some people, like myself, didn’t necessarily hate the song but found it didn’t have much of an effect on us - except for the galloping “Sha-la la la la-la la” chorus, easily the most memorable part of the song.

We didn't play any other Monaco songs because as far as we knew no others existed. As usual, it wasn't until writing this I discovered that Hook and band mate David Potts had released a second Monaco album in 2000. I was also previously unaware that Hook and Potts had worked together in Hook’s other project, Revenge, a few years prior to their Monaco years.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
What Do You Want from Me
( Peter Hook/David Potts)
Monaco
From the album Music for Pleasure
1997

Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la

There is one thing that I would die for
It's when you say: "My life is in your hands"
'Cause when you're near me your love is all I need
Now I can't imagine

What do you want from me
It's not how it used to be
You've taken my life away
Ruining everything

What do you want from me (sha-la la la la-la la)
It's not how it used to be (sha-la la la la-la la)
You've taken my life away (sha-la la la la-la la)
Ruining everything (sha-la la la la-la la)

Give me something I can rely on
Far away from the life that I once knew
What does it matter, that's all I have to say
And I can't imagine

What do you want from me
It's not how it used to be
You've taken my life away
Ruining everything

What do you want from me
It's not how it used to be
You've taken my life away
Ruining everything

Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la

(BREAK)

What do you want from me (sha-la la la la-la la)
It's not how it used to be (sha-la la la la-la la)
You've taken my life away (sha-la la la la-la la)
Ruining everything (sha-la la la la-la la)
(REPEAT TO FADE)

Cause it's home, the only life I've ever known

I’ve sort of mentioned the fun involved with students picking their music shift at my undergraduate station (see Let's flip the track, bring the old school back); at the station in my post-graduate days, they did it differently – and by a method that made more sense that anything we did when we were sophomores or seniors. Seniority – what a concept. There were x number of shifts (music, news, and sports) that had to be filled and y number of students in class. Each student was to pick one shift at a time, and those first to pick were those that had gone through this routine the longest. Paulie Zizzo, even in this mixed-up, muddled, shook-up world, managed to be one of the two or three students who had seniority (see We never got it off on that revolution stuff, what a drag too many snags).

When it came time for the students to pick their shifts, everyone knew what Paulie was going to choose (except me, but I was new and hadn’t heard him in action yet). I soon discovered that his usual shift was weekend Classic Hits. I inadvertently identified the shift as “Classic Rock” a few times that day and was steadily corrected by Paulie as to the true nature of the music. Was there really a difference? We played the same decades-old junk when I was an undergrad and we called it “Classic Rock.” The difference, I suppose, turned out to be the amount of music this other station had. As an undergrad, our weekend Classic Rock shifts were somewhat limited because we didn’t have a very large library of music. As station manager working on post-graduate work, I listened in amazement at the number of CDs and LPs available to fill the eight hours of Classic Hits, with music ranging anywhere from the crush-stomping sounds of Kashmir to the lightweight Cyndi Lauper, something called Girlschool, Gary Numan’s Cars, and some Creedence.

As on weekdays, the station didn’t sign-on until 10AM and students were regulated to two-hour shifts. In the end, Paulie’s air shift picks resulted in him being on the air from 10AM to 4PM, which was later explained to me to be the same schedule he’d had in past semesters.

Now the term “Classic Hits” tends to imply the music was popular on some sort of grand scale. As such, during this format you’re not going to be playing music from those local guys who won the Battle of the Bands contest four years ago. Paulie really dug the “classic” music, but it was usually regulated to pre-1974 and then the stuff he liked – not so much what the audience wanted, or expected, to hear. Numerous times that first fall semester I listened to his “Nuggets Weekend,” where he played and discussed the pop garage-rock tunes from Nuggets – “Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968.” This compilation was right up his alley – he knew the songs inside and out and had scoured the liner notes and Internet for information on the bands to give him something to talk about on the air. Talk about show prep (see Boy, you can't play me that way)....

Here lie the problem – nothing on the compilation was a “hit” by the weak definition of the format “Classic Hits.” Sure, some of these songs had hit the Top 40 thirty years prior and probably deserved the additional recognition and airplay, but I always questioned why six solid hours were devoted to music college students had never heard before. As station manager I tried a few times to drop subtle hints that while I enjoyed learning about music I wasn’t familiar with – such as the Blues Magoos performing a cover of the classic John Loudermilk tune, Tobacco Road – that maybe he could drop in some better known non-Nuggets material to sort of balance his playlist. Especially since someone else had to come in for two hours afterwards (4 to 6PM) and who would most certainly shift the style drastically – like going for two bloody hours of 1980s New Wave.

His answer was classic: he didn’t know the music. His mind set in 1974, Paulie claimed to know nothing about contemporary music, much less the rest of the 1970s. Sadly, I never thought he was kidding. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Still, when I mentioned to the faculty advisor (my boss) about some of the comments I had heard badgering his weekly air shifts, I was simply told “but he plays such good music.”

Tobacco Road was originally written by Loudermilk in the early 1960s and has long since been covered by numerous artists across multiple genres. Besides the Blue Magoos, notable cover versions have included Lou Rawls (1963), Jefferson Airplane (1966), and David Lee Roth (1986), as well as a version by Bruce Springsteen (!), Toto (?), and by the Rodney Crowell one-off side-project, the Cicadas.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Tobacco Road
( John D. Loudermilk)
The Cicadas
From the album The Cicadas
1997

I was born in a bunk
Mother died and my daddy got drunk
Left me here to die or grow
In the middle of Tobacco Road

Grew up in a dusty shack
And all I had was a'hangin' on my back
Only you know how I loathe
This place called Tobacco Road

But it's home
The only life I've ever known
Only you know how I loathe
Tobacco Road

I'm gonna leave and get a job
With the help and the grace from above
Save some money, get rich I know
Bring it back to Tobacco Road

Bring Dynamite and a crane
Blow you up, start all over again
Build a town be proud to show
Give the name Tobacco Road

Cause it's home
The only life I've ever known
Oh I despise and disapprove you
But I love ya, 'cause it's home

We never got it off on that revolution stuff, what a drag too many snags

You meet a lot of interesting characters in life and easily one of the most memorable from my days in graduate school is the Young Dude, an undergraduate physically in the 1990s but mentally residing in the 1970s, if that.

Shortly after the semester began was the first meeting of the entire radio station staff. At this station everyone had to actually be enrolled in a particular section of a class and therefore receive credit for their work. Everybody in the class knew each other in some way – either from previous classes or working at the radio station – and so naturally eyes focused on the new guy at the head of the class. In turn, the new guy (me) eyed the students, trying to interpret attitudes from non-verbal clues or muffled comments. It was a typical looking group of students until Paulie Zizzo sauntered into the room.

Let me preface any perceived hostility by saying that Paulie was a genuinely good-hearted person. He was courteous, he was extremely friendly, he got along with everyone, and would try to help out whoever needed a hand. However, more than anything, what made Paulie stand out from everyone else on that campus was his penchant for the 1970s. Not just quoting television (which he did) or listening to music (which he did) but dressing like it was the 1970s – 1974, specifically. In Paulie's world it was 1974 and everyone else was just visiting from the future (at least, that's how I took it).

Young Mr. Zizzo – who identified himself on the air as the Young Dude, thanks in part that Mott the Hoople song from two years prior (meaning 1972) – was a short, skinny kid with a mane of long, wavy brown hair; other facial hair included sideburns and what was built up under his nose in the form of a moustache. Tinted glasses shielded his eyes, and he walked with a pronounced gait that made him look overly relaxed. His wardrobe consisted of high collars, earth tones, and high water pants – nothing remotely en vogue for 1998.

Of course, radio is not a visual medium so listeners totally missed out on this get-up. Listeners could get an earful of Paulie's minor speech impediment – the more he talked the more he tended to slur his words – which wasn’t really a detractor but unfortunately didn't help sell the Zizzo package. I have no idea what instigated this attitude – be it because of mental illness or his way to fit into life. Frankly, it never really seemed like it was my business. While he may have been a bit clueless on modern advances and wished he was living his life in 1974, he at least showed on time for his shifts and tried to better himself in his craft.

Speaking of Clueless, there was a movie of that name released a few years prior to this (meaning 1995), and on the soundtrack were a number of songs that got scant airplay back during my undergraduate days. I don’t think we did much with the compilation as I recall the disc stayed in the office a lot. Evidently the tracks, such as World Party’s cover of the David Bowie song, really weren’t our thing.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
All the Young Dudes
(David Bowie)
World Party
From the original motion picture soundtrack Clueless
1995

Well Billy rapped all night about his suicide
How he kick it in the head when he was twenty-five
Speed jive don't want to stay alive
When you're twenty-five
And Wendy's stealing clothes from Marks and Sparks
And Freedy's got spots from ripping off the stars from his face
Funky little boat race
Television man is crazy saying we're juvenile deliquent wrecks
Oh man I need TV when I got T Rex
Oh brother you guessed
I'm a dude dad
All the young dudes (Hey dudes)
Carry the news (Where are ya)
Boogaloo dudes (Stand up Come on)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (I want to hear you)
Carry the news (I want to see you)
Boogaloo dudes (And I want to talk to you all of you)
Carry the news

Now Lucy looks sweet cause he dresses like a queen
But he can kick like a mule it's a real mean team
But we can love oh yes we can love
And my brother's back at home with his Beatles and his Stones
We never got it off on that revolution stuff
What a drag too many snags
Now I've drunk a lot of wine and I'm feeling fine
Got to race some cat to bed
Oh is there concrete all around
Or is it in my head
Yeah
I'm a dude dad
All the young dudes (Hey dudes)
Carry the news (Where are ya)
Boogaloo dudes (Stand up)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (I want to hear ya)
Carry the news (I want to see you)
Boogaloo dudes (And I want to relate to you)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (What dudes)

Carry the news (Let's hear the news come on)
Boogaloo dudes (I want to kick you)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (Hey you there with the glasses)
Carry the news (I want you)
Boogaloo dudes (I want you at the front)
Carry the news (Now you all his friends)
All the young dudes (Now you bring him down cause I want him)
Carry the news
Boogaloo dudes (I want him right here bring him come on)
Carry the news (Bring him here you go)
All the young dudes (I've wanted to do this for years)
Carry the news (There you go)
Boogaloo dudes (How do you feel)
Carry the news

We've got a conclusion, and I guess that's something

Bran Van 3000's Glee was actually released before I graduated and Drinking In LA was featured on one of those preview discs in the spring of 1998. I also recall the advertisements and posters sent from the record label promoting some sort of pinkish scene from the movie, Bambi. Hmmm – Glee: a rabbit sniffing a deer. There evidently was no glee in the song from my undergraduate peers, as I recall many of the hard-boiled rock jocks a little aloof to play the song.

It was a different story the following year, when I heard Drinking in LA more than I wanted as station manager at that other radio station. Does it sound like I didn't particularly care for the song? Well, there isn't any disdain, but I never really got the "sound" of the song - that whole "mixed bag of everything at once" approach to what sounded like someone trying to merge various styles of music and then pass it off as the latest musical fad.

I was in the minority of this opinion, which might please BV3 founder James Di Salvio, because the album, specifically this lead single, made quite an impact with a lot of station staff. Students with DJ names like Old English, Duke Nukem, Johnny's Nightshirt, and Lil Dope regularly featured the song somewhere in their two-hour shift, probably all wishing it was some sort of personal anthem.

And that's one thing I found interesting between the two stations: how certain music was accepted. My fellow undergrads ridiculed Korn and Limp Bizkit, yet the rock shift at my graduate station made frequent use of their tracks. Marilyn Manson was universally forbidden, while later-day Metallica was something everyone could have agreed on. Granted there is always going to be a difference of opinion between any two people, much less groups of people, but I guess I thought that kids the same age would like the same kind of music. Oh, well...I’ve been wrong before.

Di Salvio, and the Canadian crew he created to front Bran Van 3000, originated in Montreal in 1997, releasing their debut single that spring. Glee followed mere months later and shortly thereafter their brief star fizzled as the collective began work on other projects. Their second album, Discosis, hit the shelves in 2001 and was generally praised, but saw little promotion (I didn't know about it all these years later...).

Anyway, yeah, we got these lyrics to the song featured in the above article, happening right after this last paragraph. You can all go ahead and continue reading here or just jump ahead to the end and try to remember a few things about the song if you can. It’s difficult because you’re reading the words and may not have the pulsating and echoey sounds in your mind, which would help you remember. You can ask us questions to help you remember portions of the song, namely, who is Stereo Mike. We’ll pretend to get an answer....

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Drinking in L.A.
(Di Salvio/Larson/Vartzbedian)
Bran Van 3000
From the album Glee
1998

Hi, my name is Stereo Mike.

Yeah, we got three tickets to the Bran Van concert happening this Monday night at the Pacific Pallisades. You can all dial in if you want to answer a couple of questions, namely, what is Todd's favourite cheese. Jackie just called up and said it was a form of Roquefort. We'll see about that...

Give us a ring-ding-ding! It's a beautiful day.

Yeah Todd, this is Liquid ring-a-ding-a-dinging, want those three Bran Van tickets man. Waddya think? Todd, you there?

I woke up again this morning with the sun in my eyes,
When Mike came over with a script surprise.
A Mafioso story with a twist,
A "Too Wong Foo, Julie Newmar" hitch,
Get your ass out of bed, he said:
I'll explain it on the way.

But we did nothing, absolutely nothing that day, and I say:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?
I got the fever for the flavour, the payback will be later, still I need a fix.

And the girls on the bus kept on laughing at us,
As we rode on the ten down to Venice again.
Flaring out the G-Funk,
Sipping on a juice and gin,
Just me and a friend.
Feeling kinda groovy,
Working on a movie. (Yeah right!)

But we did nothing, absolutely butkis that day, and I say:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?

With my mind on my money and my money on my... Beer, beer!

I know that life is for the taking, so I better wise up, and take it quick.

Yeah, one more time at Trader Vic's.

Some men there wanted to hurt us,
And other men said we weren't worth the fuss.
We could see them all bitching by the bar,
About the fine line, between the rich and the poor.
Then Mike turned to me and said:
"What do you think we got done son?"

We've got a conclusion, and I guess that's something, so I ask you:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?
I got the fever for the nectar, the payback will be later, still I need a fix.

We need to fix you up, call me Monday and maybe we'll fix it all up.

Hell-A-L.A., Hell hell-A-L.A.! ...

So I ask you:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?

Hell-A-L.A., Hell hell-A-L.A.