Recently, I looked at video of KCOU, the former college station where I worked. I flinched, just for a moment.
I thought, "That's where the studio is now? And there's a dark, soulless hallway looking into it? The DJ is programming songs ahead of time into a computer and not using any tangible records, CDs, or cartridges?"
Actually, none of this was a surprise to me. I'd known that the station moved to a new location years ago, so logically, it wouldn't look the same. The footage was filmed at night, so obviously, the hallway would be dark. Naturally, I've known that most DJs don't use tangible forms of music for their shows these days and haven't for many years.
Logically, I knew all of this. Emotionally, though, when I think, "KCOU," I still expect it to look the way I left it in 1993. I felt better when I looked at other semi-recent footage of the station, where I could see band posters, a board for irreverent notes, and mailings that record labels had sent.
It was comforting to remember that KCOU is still KCOU at its core. Its mission and spirit are still intact, and that's what matters most.
