It was lyrically appropriate of iTunes to pair the Genesis track, "It's Gonna Get Better," with "When You're Gone" by Amanda Shires this morning. "It's Gonna Get Better" cautions that a healing path might be a long one, and "When You're Gone" reinforces this outlook by suggesting that things will be better once you get past a particular obstacle.
While it would be more encouraging to hear that things will clear up immediately, it's often more realistic for them to improve eventually.
I'd heard through the grapevine that our college orchestra director, Mr. D., prioritized music majors when choosing students to play for musicals and recitals.
After hearing a student gripe to the director about being chosen for such performances so often, Mr. D. responded as I'd predicted, almost verbatim.
"You're a music major," he told the student matter-of-factly. "This is what you do. You play music."
Yesterday, before playing a cassette, I thought, "Oh, good. I'm starting the tape from the beginning. That'll allow the leader tape to clean the tape heads."
I'm trying to remember how many years had passed since I last thought that.
Now, this is one earworm I'll always welcome. Leo Kottke's instrumental, "Regards From Chuck Pink," is part folk, part country, and part march. The excellent synergy between Kottke's guitar, the piano, and the drums makes the tune work equally well as background or foreground music. It would also work as accompaniment for introducing band members individually. If I heard a band play this unexpectedly at a soundcheck, I'd know an outstanding concert was likely to follow.
My yearly January blues are lifting, in large part because of this tune. Here's hoping it works its magic on anyone else in the same boat.
This morning, a radio personality marveled on-air that it was once common for people to call out, "Come in! The door's open," when they had no idea who was visiting.
I second that host's incredulity. I'm pretty sure more than 15 years have passed since I last opened the door to a stranger. I can't say I've had any regrets about that.
A DJ I knew told me that he thought one of the other DJs at his station "sounds alright on the air, but for morning drive, I think (this DJ) is a little lacking in ability."
At the time, neither of us knew that the DJ making this comment would soon become the station's program director--and that the DJ of whom he spoke wouldn't be doing morning drive there much longer.
Beware the perils of regime change--especially in an industry that's built on subjective decisions.
Six Thursday morning standout tunes:
KCOU (Columbia, MO)
KCR (San Diego, CA)
KCSM (San Francisco, CA)
WRDV (Warminster, PA)
WXPN (Philadelphia, PA)
WZBC (Boston, MA)
Usually, when I've listened to Eddi Reader's "Angels & Electricity" CD, I've listened to the entire disc instead of just a song or two. While that speaks well of the album's consistency, it somehow prevented me from realizing how movingly she sings "Wings On My Heels." There's refreshing honesty in the lyrics about allowing a 3/4 time signature to lift your spirits even when you're not the most graceful dancer or talker. After hearing it this morning, I plan to pair it with Richard Thompson's "Waltzing's For Dreamers" on my next pairs-of-segues mix CD.
I've been grappling with the effects of what I suspect is food poisoning for two days. It's logical, then, that my latest earworm has been "Let's Get This Over With" by They Might Be Giants. I keep hearing that title sung repeatedly in my mind and thinking about how appropriate it is for illness--and for that mater, January and February, overall.
Those who didn't grow up before Internet usage was ubiquitous have likely never experienced the suspense of listening to school closings on the radio. Looking back, it amuses me that I would hold my breath as the KMOX announcer got closer to my school alphabetically.
After all, I didn't want to miss the announcement of school being closed because of my breathing being too loud and drowning out the announcer.
I was only half-listening to a radio station this morning, but I'm pretty sure I heard an alleged expert say, "If you start to feel uncomfortable in the cold outside, go inside."
If only I knew the speaker's credentials...Then, I could decide for myself whether to brave frigid temperatures stoically or use common sense and stay inside where it's warm.
I guess I just have to take some admonitions on faith.
Sometimes, it just takes one phone call from a listener to remind you that when you're on the air, you are the voice of the radio station.
At WEW in 1996, a listener called and asked me, "Is this the man on the mic?"
Yes, that was me--and I liked being perceived as the pilot of the station during the hours I worked. It was a pleasure to be viewed as a radio personality at age 25--and good to be reminded that I wasn't just in a room talking to myself.
As a bleak, cold month, January is an appropriate time for listening to songs with turbulent undercurrents. The Who's "Eminence Front" works on that front. So does Milo Greene's "Move." There's a Marianne Faithfull, song, however, that's also appropriately unnerving.
No, it isn't from her '60s, "As Tears Go By" folk days. It's from 1980 and had somehow escaped my notice until recently. While watching Faithfull perform "Broken English" on "Saturday Night Live," I thought, "If I hadn't already heard who the musical guest was, I would never have guessed this was her. Her voice has a considerable rasp, which is appropriate for the song, but sounds nothing like her pure, clear style from 15 years earlier."
And yet, the breaks in her voice and the uneasiness of the groove underneath kept me tuned in. I find the tune strangely compelling and will likely segue it with "Move" on my next pairs-of-segues CD.
After being told I'd been accepted into broadcasting school after college, one of the school's higher-ups asked me, "Are you excited that you've joined us?"
"Yes, I suppose so," I told her.
Maybe I should have shown more enthusiasm. I'm glad I didn't, though. I would have sounded stilted and contrived. After all, there's a reason why smooth jazz, Classical, and new age formats were more in my wheelhouse as a DJ.
A late '70s memory: A few days after hearing Simon & Garfunkel's "The 59th Street Bridge Song" on the radio, I asked a grade school classmate if she'd ever heard it.
"I have," she replied. "Some friends and I sang it for our parents at a talent show. I felt like an idiot afterwards."
Idiot is too harsh of a term, but I understand why anyone, especially kids, might feel self-conscious about performing that song in public. Lyrics that idealistic require a mixture of carefree abandon and confidence that's difficult to pull off--especially when you have to sing that you're "feelin' groovy," and that expression is no longer in vogue.
Yesterday, I heard a tweeting sound. I thought, "Is Collette playing with one of her bird cat toys?" Then, I thought, "No, I don't think that's it. Did I leave music playing that has bird sounds in it?" That wasn't the case, either. Only then did I realize, "There's an actual bird tweeting outside the window."
Apparently, I've gotten out of the habit of recognizing legitimate birdsong.
Sunday and Monday standouts:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
KWMU 90.7 FM
KSHE 94.7 FM
K297BI 107.3 FM, a.k.a. WFUN-HD2
It was warped of iTunes to pair Take 6's "Gold Mine" with "Rotten World Blues" by Eels this morning. It's jarring to hear a powerfully sung, uplifting tune about finding spiritual fulfillment followed by a tune about unfair life sometimes is.
However, in an odd way, that segue makes lyrical sense. "Gold Mine" is about how valuable it is to have faith in a higher power, and "Rotten World Blues" posits that the world gives you what you need when you recognize how unjust it is. Perhaps that's a blunt way for Eels to say, "Have faith," when you need it most.
I doubt any radio station would play those songs back to back, but there's a bizarre call and response between them.
In a lot of songs, just singing, "La, la, la, la, la," would be seen as a cop-out for not writing actual lyrics or as a guide vocal to suggest where lyrics should go in the finished product.
That's not the case, however, in Chicago's "Happy 'Cause I'm Going Home." Decades after first hearing it, it still enters my mind frequently. The tune's rhythm and instrumentation are compelling enough to sustain periodic "La, la, la, la, la" intervals--and the "La, la, la, la, la"s are catchy, no matter how often how you hear them.
This is an underrated example of Chicago's strength as a band. Even if the song isn't to your taste, I don't see how a listener couldn't respect the musicianship of every player on this track.
Last night, iTunes took Alice Merton's "Lash Out," a cathartic tune about venting one's fury, and segued it with...
..."Catch A Falling Star" by Perry Como.
Yes, I purchased both of those songs and like them both for different reasons. I turned on shuffle mode, so both songs were fair game for a segue.
Although that isn't a pairing I would have made, perhaps it was for the best. Too many rage-filled songs in a row aren't good for one's mindset. A positive frame of mind is usually more advisable, so what's wrong with pairing a dark tune with an idealistic one now and then?
Tonight, during an iTunes shuffle mode segue, I thought, "These two songs wouldn't be out of place on KFUO AM. I could imagine the station playing The Free Design's 'Ivy On A Windy Day' followed by Lisa Addeo's version of 'Here We Come A-Wassailing' to fill time until the top of the hour after a Sunday service."
Those songs dovetail well, I think, because they're lightly spiritual without hitting the listener over the head about it. As such, they both have a pleasant, welcoming sheen.
Tonight, a radio talk show host and guest reminded listeners that they don't discuss politics on the air. One of them predicted that this will likely be "a tumultuous year" on that front.
Unfortunately, I suspect that tumultuous might be an understatement. It's no wonder the host pivoted quickly and started discussing the Cardinal bullpen.
Monday and Tuesday highlights:
KDHX 88.1 FM
KCLC 89.1 FM
This morning, I watched a video I'd filmed of my previous cat, Sylvia, drinking water from the kitchen faucet. By chance, I was listening to K297BI 107.3 FM at the time. I marveled at how well Sylvia's rhythm while lapping water matched the pace of a movement from Schubert's Trout Quintet.
It's heartwarming to discover a talent you didn't realize your cat possessed.
Sometimes, I felt slightly awkward accepting compliments after playing in an orchestra concert. Although I'd practiced the music and performed it well, I would sometimes think, "I'm just one of 70 people in this ensemble. I only account for about 1.4% of the orchestra's sound."
Then, I'd think, "Well, I contributed what I was supposed to contribute. My 1.4% of the sound turned out fine, so I guess I can relax."
In retrospect, maybe I should have been more relaxed at every concert, knowing that 98.6% of the end result was out of my control.
I enjoyed the jazz mix I heard on a radio station Thursday. Unfortunately, that station didn't appear in Thursday's Online radio sampler highlights post because the station didn't identify any of the songs or artists. No DJ back announced any of the music, no playlist was posted online, and no one answered the station phone when I called.
Radio stations who don't already do this, identify the music you play, using at least one of those options. A basic function of any radio station is telling listeners what they've heard. Thank you.
One strong, fast guitar hook deserves another. That must have been why iTunes paired Heartsfield's "As I Look Into The Fire" with Leo Kottke's "Hear The Wind Howl" in my library yesterday.
Thursday standouts:
KUNV (Las Vegas, NV)
KYBY (Magnolia, TX)
WFBS (Salem, SC)
WGVU (Grand Rapids, MI)
WMUD (Moriah, NY)
Every now and then, a campus cop would stop by KCOU and walk around the station. The first time I saw him in the studio, I said, "Hi. May I help you?"
"Sure," he responded. "You could play my favorite song."
"What's your favorite song?" I asked.
"I don't know," he replied.
In retrospect, I wish he'd named his favorite song. If we'd had it in our library, I would have played it. After all, it's just common sense to want the police to be on your side.
Shortly before Christmas, a talk show host, touting a moving company's professionalism on-air, said, "They can even move (a fellow talk show host's) ego--and you know how big that is."
"Wow," I thought. "Regardless of whether that characterization is accurate, that's not exactly the Christmas spirit--and it's a risky thing to say about a co-worker at your own radio station."
I'm not sure how well this bodes for the new year, but since yesterday, Elton John's "Empty Garden" has run through my mind frequently. Writing about Sandy Denny's "Who Knows Where The Time Goes?" yesterday apparently sparked my memory of another wistful song about loss.
Although "Empty Garden" is a thoughtful tribute to John Lennon, it isn't a song I seek out. Its somber, dreary nature is perfectly appropriate for its subject matter, but it doesn't make for cheerful, easy listening. Perhaps that's why it hasn't gotten a ton of airplay in St. Louis despite being a fairly big hit in 1982.