There wasn’t any sort of specific science to how PSAs were rotated in and out of the control room but there was some rhyme and reason instilled into the process to ensure some continuity. This method always seemed to be there: when I became Program Director I picked up the process as it had been left for me, improved it where necessary, and allowed those that followed me to do the same. It was fairly simple and painless.
Thirty second (0:30) spots were recorded to 0:40 second cartridge tapes and labeled in red. Labeling was done with a typewriter and one of the never-ending packets of labels that always seemed to come out of nowhere. Running out of labels one week? By the start of the next another packet surfaced – usually with a few sheets already missing. I’ve no idea how they were kept in stock unless they got passed along with Son of Funkenstein CDs (see I Can Feel It In My Heart Something's Wrong).
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Arithmetic, mathematic, same old form but assymetric
Ad Council PSAs were always a big deal – maybe not so much the message but the medium. Every few weeks a new PSA campaign packet arrived and dumped unceremoniously into the lap of the station’s production director for review.
The packets were immaculate in design: glossy, tri-folded envelopes sized about 9x11 inches, dolled up in colors and photographs promoting the latest campaign. Sometimes it was cartoon characters or clip art on the outside of the envelope - sometimes it was images from the television version of the PSA promotion. Inside was a treasure trove of information, most of which we did little with.
The packets were immaculate in design: glossy, tri-folded envelopes sized about 9x11 inches, dolled up in colors and photographs promoting the latest campaign. Sometimes it was cartoon characters or clip art on the outside of the envelope - sometimes it was images from the television version of the PSA promotion. Inside was a treasure trove of information, most of which we did little with.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Joke by joke they spot erase you
I’ve already mentioned that not every aspect of our university operated radio station was created by station staff (see Matter of the Heart) and that most of these programming elements were Public Service Announcements, mostly distributed by the Ad Council (see You know I’d like to believe this nervousness will pass) but other non-profit organization or assemblage as well.
I’m sure the popular question is why we even bothered with such things in the first place. Why would a rag-tag group of college students put forth any effort into interrupting music programming – rock music, easily the only thing garnering any college-age audience in the first place – twice an hour with thirty-second smidgens of long-winded good advice? (We were jaded enough to think thirty seconds was long-winded?)
Why? For training’s sake, I’m sure. Part of it was ensuring we knew how to follow the format clock (see I see you dancing on the stage of memory) and the traffic logs and taking the designated break. In time (for those furthering our futures with work at commercial stations) we would be employed by stations with operating costs and budgets and that advertisements paid the bills (and, likewise, employees). Plus there was nothing like a hands-on atmosphere to hear in action some of the vocabulary that Dr. Propel spouted off in his classes – such as stopsets, spots, and PSA, to name a few.
I’m sure another reason was to just give some buffers between the constant flows of music – though I wonder if these stopsets were something Syd (“the Kid”) insisted on to ensure we sounded more commercial and professional than we really were. I don’t remember a lot of PSA-laden breaks during my Freshman year, though by my DJing days as a junior and senior, it was recognized that stopsets occurred twice an hour across all shifts, were at least sixty seconds, and consisted of a recorded station promo, PSA, and then a sweep back into the music.
Lastly being non-commercial meant that we broadcast news and information in the public service. Right.
But how many people rocking out to Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins, or (God forbid) Seven Mary Three appreciated the interruption with a reminder about getting their eyes checked? That’s when I was glad some of the PSAs were comical, attempting to add some humor to what could be dry subject matter. For example, there were a series of back-to-back fifteen second spots from the American Ophthalmologist Association that aired sometime around 1996-97. A female voice kept urging a driver to “back up, back up...back up...” until there was a shattering of shop widows or something; an announcer asked “Had your eyes checked lately?” The second fifteen seconds had another short vignette along the same theme. There were a handful of these spots in rotation: someone driving couldn’t see the road, someone baking couldn’t read the recipe, someone standing down a pitcher couldn’t make out the baseball. Each ended with a noticeable sound-effect – a honk, a retch, a thud – that helped to underscore the seriousness of the incident but maybe evoke a chuckle or two.
Yeah, the spots were meant to be humorous but this wasn’t exactly the way to get a laugh during the rock shifts.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Dead Red Eyes
(Bachmann, Gentling, Johnson, Price)
Archers of Loaf
From the album White Trash Heroes
1998
Dead red eyes flickering half bright went on for ride (?)
In slick silk. They were on to my circumstantial slide,
Blow by blow chipped off shell and bone. Tripped and talked around
It could not fall through the crowd of careful lies busting open wide.
Sensible fact or fable, watch us fall from your favor. (?)
Since you knew too much about it dressed in wax you lit the town in
Candlelight, flickering half bright. Well I held it in my hands and now it's
Gone gone gone.
Saw it with my own two eyes, just pass me by.
Took a walk through a town of half stoned clones
Bound and gagging. Joke by joke they spot erase you,
Heard their news but it did not phase you one little bit,
Not one little bit. So I meet you by the light of main street
Stranded ghosts where I've been waiting. Kill it 50 times or more,
Before I'm through I'll kill it 50 times more, just to bring it back to life,
And bust it open wide again. Well I held it in my hands and now it's
Gone gone gone.
Blinded by the neon in your dead red eyes.
I’m sure the popular question is why we even bothered with such things in the first place. Why would a rag-tag group of college students put forth any effort into interrupting music programming – rock music, easily the only thing garnering any college-age audience in the first place – twice an hour with thirty-second smidgens of long-winded good advice? (We were jaded enough to think thirty seconds was long-winded?)
Why? For training’s sake, I’m sure. Part of it was ensuring we knew how to follow the format clock (see I see you dancing on the stage of memory) and the traffic logs and taking the designated break. In time (for those furthering our futures with work at commercial stations) we would be employed by stations with operating costs and budgets and that advertisements paid the bills (and, likewise, employees). Plus there was nothing like a hands-on atmosphere to hear in action some of the vocabulary that Dr. Propel spouted off in his classes – such as stopsets, spots, and PSA, to name a few.
I’m sure another reason was to just give some buffers between the constant flows of music – though I wonder if these stopsets were something Syd (“the Kid”) insisted on to ensure we sounded more commercial and professional than we really were. I don’t remember a lot of PSA-laden breaks during my Freshman year, though by my DJing days as a junior and senior, it was recognized that stopsets occurred twice an hour across all shifts, were at least sixty seconds, and consisted of a recorded station promo, PSA, and then a sweep back into the music.
Lastly being non-commercial meant that we broadcast news and information in the public service. Right.
But how many people rocking out to Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins, or (God forbid) Seven Mary Three appreciated the interruption with a reminder about getting their eyes checked? That’s when I was glad some of the PSAs were comical, attempting to add some humor to what could be dry subject matter. For example, there were a series of back-to-back fifteen second spots from the American Ophthalmologist Association that aired sometime around 1996-97. A female voice kept urging a driver to “back up, back up...back up...” until there was a shattering of shop widows or something; an announcer asked “Had your eyes checked lately?” The second fifteen seconds had another short vignette along the same theme. There were a handful of these spots in rotation: someone driving couldn’t see the road, someone baking couldn’t read the recipe, someone standing down a pitcher couldn’t make out the baseball. Each ended with a noticeable sound-effect – a honk, a retch, a thud – that helped to underscore the seriousness of the incident but maybe evoke a chuckle or two.
Yeah, the spots were meant to be humorous but this wasn’t exactly the way to get a laugh during the rock shifts.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Dead Red Eyes
(Bachmann, Gentling, Johnson, Price)
Archers of Loaf
From the album White Trash Heroes
1998
Dead red eyes flickering half bright went on for ride (?)
In slick silk. They were on to my circumstantial slide,
Blow by blow chipped off shell and bone. Tripped and talked around
It could not fall through the crowd of careful lies busting open wide.
Sensible fact or fable, watch us fall from your favor. (?)
Since you knew too much about it dressed in wax you lit the town in
Candlelight, flickering half bright. Well I held it in my hands and now it's
Gone gone gone.
Saw it with my own two eyes, just pass me by.
Took a walk through a town of half stoned clones
Bound and gagging. Joke by joke they spot erase you,
Heard their news but it did not phase you one little bit,
Not one little bit. So I meet you by the light of main street
Stranded ghosts where I've been waiting. Kill it 50 times or more,
Before I'm through I'll kill it 50 times more, just to bring it back to life,
And bust it open wide again. Well I held it in my hands and now it's
Gone gone gone.
Blinded by the neon in your dead red eyes.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
the one about sharp-dressed men pledging their allegiance to nautical-themed footwear
Something peculiar happened one autumn morning in Dr. Propel’s Intro class. People started wearing suits. Business suits. Neckties and such. Again, this wasn’t the faculty (which wasn’t really into this sort of thing to begin with), but the kids in class. This wasn’t the norm. Up until now male students wore just about anything: t-shirt and jeans, maybe a collared shirt, and so on. Yeah, once in a while you got a buttoned-down shirt but never a tie, never a jacket. Never the inkling that it was the norm.
And it wasn’t just there in the Communication Building – male students all across campus were waltzing around in this elaborate costume. Had the entire male student population of the university suddenly cleaned itself up and decided to spend the week in their Sunday best? No, as I was to find out soon thereafter from some of my more jaded contemporaries, this was all about buying friendship.
Yes, Pledge Week had come to campus.
One of the funniest things about seeing these students stride about in their elaborate costumes was how out of place they looked. You know, the low-maintenance kids with wild Hair Bear Bunch manes or dicey five o’clock shadows that threw on whatever they could find in their closest the first thing in the morning and then wore that the rest of the day. But now that they were zealots-in-training for the bacchanalias that were to come they started each day with a shave and hair-comb, tie with blazers, khakis, and body-fluid colored ties. And boat shoes. I never understood how or why nautical fashion made it to the mainland.
Anyway, the idea – as best as I and my jaded contemporaries could tell – was that the kids had to dress-up to play with the big boys. And this is where those jaded contemporaries liked to point out stuff about elitism, schmoozing and boozing, and how mindless conforming meant all of ‘em looked the same no matter which group they were trying to buy their way into (groups with names like Alpha Trian, Mu Fan Chi, or Up Salon Snuh).
And so they came into classrooms in this get-up and tried to look nonchalant but it didn’t always work. When that kid in the back corner, who wears nothing but t-shirts and shorts every day, suddenly shows up in a suit – you know something’s up. When the kid who smells like eggs unexpectedly begins dousing himself in cologne – you know something’s up. When the guy who never says anything to anyone starts butting into conversations between girls – you know something’s up. More so, when it’s Monday again, when uniforms have been hematologically resealed and perfect hygiene isn’t a must for the eight o’clock Comp class – you know Pledge Week is over.
The silliness subsides. Life went on.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Bulldoze the Fraternities
(Cherry Two Thousand)
Cherry 2000
From the album Taint
1998
And it wasn’t just there in the Communication Building – male students all across campus were waltzing around in this elaborate costume. Had the entire male student population of the university suddenly cleaned itself up and decided to spend the week in their Sunday best? No, as I was to find out soon thereafter from some of my more jaded contemporaries, this was all about buying friendship.
Yes, Pledge Week had come to campus.
One of the funniest things about seeing these students stride about in their elaborate costumes was how out of place they looked. You know, the low-maintenance kids with wild Hair Bear Bunch manes or dicey five o’clock shadows that threw on whatever they could find in their closest the first thing in the morning and then wore that the rest of the day. But now that they were zealots-in-training for the bacchanalias that were to come they started each day with a shave and hair-comb, tie with blazers, khakis, and body-fluid colored ties. And boat shoes. I never understood how or why nautical fashion made it to the mainland.
Anyway, the idea – as best as I and my jaded contemporaries could tell – was that the kids had to dress-up to play with the big boys. And this is where those jaded contemporaries liked to point out stuff about elitism, schmoozing and boozing, and how mindless conforming meant all of ‘em looked the same no matter which group they were trying to buy their way into (groups with names like Alpha Trian, Mu Fan Chi, or Up Salon Snuh).
And so they came into classrooms in this get-up and tried to look nonchalant but it didn’t always work. When that kid in the back corner, who wears nothing but t-shirts and shorts every day, suddenly shows up in a suit – you know something’s up. When the kid who smells like eggs unexpectedly begins dousing himself in cologne – you know something’s up. When the guy who never says anything to anyone starts butting into conversations between girls – you know something’s up. More so, when it’s Monday again, when uniforms have been hematologically resealed and perfect hygiene isn’t a must for the eight o’clock Comp class – you know Pledge Week is over.
The silliness subsides. Life went on.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Bulldoze the Fraternities
(Cherry Two Thousand)
Cherry 2000
From the album Taint
1998
Sunday, November 28, 2010
the one about the lord of the flies interview
Most of my Lord of the Flies presentation was to be an updated rehash of the paper I turned in the year before in high school, though I did have to double its length and the number of sources. I don’t recall doing this for anything in Comp I so this may have been the first year I was required to visit the library and seek out various periodicals with already published essays and reference them on the token bibliography page. As for the presentation, for what I was to distribute to the class, I constructed a sort of “family tree” of the characters (granted, none were really related) with hand-drawn caricatures that identified everyone by name, their role, and what they symbolized.
In the days leading up to my presentation (which was to be a Thursday) Michael Arthur and I went over what was to happen. Part of me recalls us visiting the room late one day to go over the layout and the best plan of action. The only thing Michel really blanched at was that he had to be up and ready to go by 7:00. Other than that, I think he was just as anxious as me to see how this was going to be pulled off. I think Ms. Fontaine was curious, too – a few sessions before the presentation I asked if it would be a problem using props or other characters. She said not all: those sorts of things could only serve to boost one’s grade. From the way she looked at me I could tell she wondered what I had up my sleeve.
Here’s what happened.
Thursday morning Michael and I got to the room a little before 7:30. I had noticed over a period of several weeks that students usually went straight to their seats when they arrived – no one ever walked around the partition between the podium and west wall. This meant that Michael could quietly sit back here among the surplus equipment and wait for my cue during the presentation. Ah, but when would that be? Today would be four more (possibly the last four) though, as I cautioned Mike, I had no clue when I’d get to go. My hopes were to get this over and done with as quickly as possible and let Mike go back to bed – but I couldn’t make any promises.
When class started Ms. Fontaine took her seat in the audience with the students and called the first speaker for the day. It wasn't me. While I was somewhat anxious to get started, I was thankful that class had started without anyone discovering the secret that stood (or, as I was told later, spread out reading a paper) on the other side of the wall.
At about 8:45 it was finally my turn. I got up and handed out the “study guides” to the class and began reading my research on The Lord of the Flies. First there was Ralph, then Jack, and maybe Sam and Eric next – I forget the order but I knew I needed to have Piggy near the end. A few seconds after I began reading the section about Piggy there came a knock on the glass door behind the wall. It obviously woke everyone up and I played off being startled.
“...and...oh, yeah, hey, I thought it might be best to actually bring in someone who knows a lot about this character an’ so I’ve asked the one and only Piggy to join us today. Hold on a sec!”
I walked around the wall and signaled to Mike to open the door loudly. Seeing the faces of my classmates when I came back around the wall was priceless.
“Well, welcome then Piggy, thanks for stopping...do you want to come in and be seen?”
“No,” wheezed Michael in a loud, whiny voice. “I’ve been stranded on a desert island for I dunno how many weeks and I didn’t wash up b’fore I came in so I smell pretty bad. Plus I gots assmar.”
“Huh-huh. Well, sucks to your assmar. Tell us a bit about yourself....”
Michael, with a copy of my research notes in hand, proceeded to read off information about Piggy and how life was good when the conch was around and how things got out of hand when Jack had his way. I half-sat on the tabletop of the right wing seats, situated in a way where I could see both Michael standing and the rest of the class wondering just what the hell was going on. I hammed it up, too, turning periodically to the class and acting impressed at what was going on. This ran for a few minutes before we decided to wrap this “interview” up in a most disastrous way. As I thanked Piggy for coming by, Michael threw open the doors and started yelling and making rambunctious noises to indicate he was being dragged away by Jack. As I said before, Michael knew The Lord of the Flies well enough to throw in some other jabs – “No...no! Don’t kill the pig! No! No! Take your hand off me...stop...” – and then, for icing on the cake, he tossed an old pair of glasses from the behind the wall onto the floor. Finally, with a thunderous noise, Michael dragged himself outside and slammed the doors. The interview was officially over.
“Piggy, everyone.” I started clapping and, while the rest of the class began applauding with mild confusion, I nonchalantly retrieved the glasses from the floor and went right back into the presentation, ending with a brief spiel on the titular character.
When I was done nodded a brief thank you and returned to my seat while everyone applauded once again. In my seat, the girl in front of me turned around and smiled: “that was good...but how did he know when to come by and be interviewed.” Because he’s Piggy, I said coyly. Mrs. Fontaine, also seated in the row in front of me, turned around as the next student ascended the podium and also said good job: “but he really didn’t look like Piggy,” she said with a wink. When I turned around I realized that from where she sat one could see through the large wall-length windows and anyone passing by. I always assumed she only witnessed one person walking along the old Avenue E service road that morning: a tall, skinny kid with unkempt hair that looked nothing like the character described and who was probably making a bee-line straight back to bed.
That didn’t cost me any points, though – I easily aced the presentation with an A.
Later than morning I met up with the rest of the Octumvirate and Michael and I laughed at pulling off such a bizarre interview. Who would have guessed that what had originally been a one-shot joke with the pizza server would go on to be a memorable college experience?
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Lord of the Flies
(Gers, Harris)
Iron Maiden
From the album The X Factor
1995
I don't care for this world anymore
I just want to live my own fantasy
Fate has brought us to these shores
What was meant to be is now happening
I've found that I like this living in danger
Living on the edge: it feels, it makes feel as one
Who cares now what's right or wrong? It's reality
Killing so we survive wherever we may roam
Wherever we may hide, we've got to get away
I don't want existence to end
We must prepare ourselves for the elements
I just want to feel like we're strong
We don't need a code of morality
I like all the mixed emotion and anger
It brings out the animal, the power you can feel
And feeling so high with this much adrenaline
Excited, but scary to believe what we've become
Saints and sinners, something within' us
We are lord of the flies
Saints and sinners, something willing us
To be lord of the flies...
In the days leading up to my presentation (which was to be a Thursday) Michael Arthur and I went over what was to happen. Part of me recalls us visiting the room late one day to go over the layout and the best plan of action. The only thing Michel really blanched at was that he had to be up and ready to go by 7:00. Other than that, I think he was just as anxious as me to see how this was going to be pulled off. I think Ms. Fontaine was curious, too – a few sessions before the presentation I asked if it would be a problem using props or other characters. She said not all: those sorts of things could only serve to boost one’s grade. From the way she looked at me I could tell she wondered what I had up my sleeve.
Here’s what happened.
Thursday morning Michael and I got to the room a little before 7:30. I had noticed over a period of several weeks that students usually went straight to their seats when they arrived – no one ever walked around the partition between the podium and west wall. This meant that Michael could quietly sit back here among the surplus equipment and wait for my cue during the presentation. Ah, but when would that be? Today would be four more (possibly the last four) though, as I cautioned Mike, I had no clue when I’d get to go. My hopes were to get this over and done with as quickly as possible and let Mike go back to bed – but I couldn’t make any promises.
When class started Ms. Fontaine took her seat in the audience with the students and called the first speaker for the day. It wasn't me. While I was somewhat anxious to get started, I was thankful that class had started without anyone discovering the secret that stood (or, as I was told later, spread out reading a paper) on the other side of the wall.
At about 8:45 it was finally my turn. I got up and handed out the “study guides” to the class and began reading my research on The Lord of the Flies. First there was Ralph, then Jack, and maybe Sam and Eric next – I forget the order but I knew I needed to have Piggy near the end. A few seconds after I began reading the section about Piggy there came a knock on the glass door behind the wall. It obviously woke everyone up and I played off being startled.
“...and...oh, yeah, hey, I thought it might be best to actually bring in someone who knows a lot about this character an’ so I’ve asked the one and only Piggy to join us today. Hold on a sec!”
I walked around the wall and signaled to Mike to open the door loudly. Seeing the faces of my classmates when I came back around the wall was priceless.
“Well, welcome then Piggy, thanks for stopping...do you want to come in and be seen?”
“No,” wheezed Michael in a loud, whiny voice. “I’ve been stranded on a desert island for I dunno how many weeks and I didn’t wash up b’fore I came in so I smell pretty bad. Plus I gots assmar.”
“Huh-huh. Well, sucks to your assmar. Tell us a bit about yourself....”
Michael, with a copy of my research notes in hand, proceeded to read off information about Piggy and how life was good when the conch was around and how things got out of hand when Jack had his way. I half-sat on the tabletop of the right wing seats, situated in a way where I could see both Michael standing and the rest of the class wondering just what the hell was going on. I hammed it up, too, turning periodically to the class and acting impressed at what was going on. This ran for a few minutes before we decided to wrap this “interview” up in a most disastrous way. As I thanked Piggy for coming by, Michael threw open the doors and started yelling and making rambunctious noises to indicate he was being dragged away by Jack. As I said before, Michael knew The Lord of the Flies well enough to throw in some other jabs – “No...no! Don’t kill the pig! No! No! Take your hand off me...stop...” – and then, for icing on the cake, he tossed an old pair of glasses from the behind the wall onto the floor. Finally, with a thunderous noise, Michael dragged himself outside and slammed the doors. The interview was officially over.
“Piggy, everyone.” I started clapping and, while the rest of the class began applauding with mild confusion, I nonchalantly retrieved the glasses from the floor and went right back into the presentation, ending with a brief spiel on the titular character.
When I was done nodded a brief thank you and returned to my seat while everyone applauded once again. In my seat, the girl in front of me turned around and smiled: “that was good...but how did he know when to come by and be interviewed.” Because he’s Piggy, I said coyly. Mrs. Fontaine, also seated in the row in front of me, turned around as the next student ascended the podium and also said good job: “but he really didn’t look like Piggy,” she said with a wink. When I turned around I realized that from where she sat one could see through the large wall-length windows and anyone passing by. I always assumed she only witnessed one person walking along the old Avenue E service road that morning: a tall, skinny kid with unkempt hair that looked nothing like the character described and who was probably making a bee-line straight back to bed.
That didn’t cost me any points, though – I easily aced the presentation with an A.
Later than morning I met up with the rest of the Octumvirate and Michael and I laughed at pulling off such a bizarre interview. Who would have guessed that what had originally been a one-shot joke with the pizza server would go on to be a memorable college experience?
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Lord of the Flies
(Gers, Harris)
Iron Maiden
From the album The X Factor
1995
I don't care for this world anymore
I just want to live my own fantasy
Fate has brought us to these shores
What was meant to be is now happening
I've found that I like this living in danger
Living on the edge: it feels, it makes feel as one
Who cares now what's right or wrong? It's reality
Killing so we survive wherever we may roam
Wherever we may hide, we've got to get away
I don't want existence to end
We must prepare ourselves for the elements
I just want to feel like we're strong
We don't need a code of morality
I like all the mixed emotion and anger
It brings out the animal, the power you can feel
And feeling so high with this much adrenaline
Excited, but scary to believe what we've become
Saints and sinners, something within' us
We are lord of the flies
Saints and sinners, something willing us
To be lord of the flies...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)