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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Broadcast
(Strawpeople)
Strawpeople
From the album Broadcast
1994