Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged 'college radio'

May 10, 2009

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“American Music (Live)” – Violent Femmes
(Words/music: Gordon Gano, available on Viva Wisconsin, Beyond 1999)

My brother and I were born about 20 months apart and according to my mom I rarely slept from my birth until my brother arrived. My eye for revisionist history loves to spin stories out of this childhood fact, specifically honing in on the fact that when my brother arrived, I moved from a crib to a bed. Whether using this story as justification for my nocturnal habits in high school or joking that my aversion to my crib was a statement about being “caged in,” I’ll joke about this with my mom when I should probably have more sympathy for her spending late nights with her restless child. I was born a few months after MTV came on the air, so my mom tells me that she would sit up in the rocking chair with me and watch MTV until I fell asleep. Again, I’m sure I barely paid attention to the videos, instead pondering the meaning of life or whatever else keeps a baby up late at night. Still, part of me points to this moment as the groundwork for my musical obsession twelve years later, so to a small degree, I owe my mom for this decision. I know cable was limited in 1983, but if my mom decided to watch HBO or Johnny Carson whatever else was on late at night, this blog might be about movies or comedy instead of music.

In addition to exposing me to the strange videos on MTV in 1983 (perhaps part of the reason I love VH-1 Classic), my mom always encouraged my musical pursuits, whether it meant sitting through grating middle school band concerts or reading my record reviews in my college newspaper. When I went back to school to get my masters’ degree and picked up a Saturday morning timeslot on the college’s radio station, my mom would occasionally listen to the station’s internet feed. On the days she’d listen, she’d tell me the songs that she liked and would occasionally ask me to put some of the songs on her iPod shuffle. Her favorite, at least gauged by the number of times she would mention it, was “American Music.” Needless to say, it’s a bit stranger than the Neil Diamond songs I helped her download off of iTunes. While Gordon Gano writes it from the same slightly askew perspective that made his early songs cult classics, “American Music” bounds like a classic pop song and continues in the tradition of songs that celebrate music. Even if the songs Gano wrote about those that aren’t quite in step with everyone else (and the ones that “remind me of me” in the song), they still capture an essential part of the human experience – the phase where we don’t quite fit in, mired in awkwardness – the kind of phase where only our mothers could love us. Even if “American Music” came out in 1991, I’d like to think that somewhere in our late nights together we heard a few Violent Femmes videos on MTV and it made those nights a little less frustrating for her. I suppose the least I could do to thank her is put a couple songs on her iPod for her and walk her through plugging it in every time the battery runs out, even though she knows how to do it. After all, she introduced me to American music in the first place.

More on Violent Femmes: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 22, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Liberation Frequency” – Refused
(Words/music: Refused, available on The Shape of Punk to Come, Epitaph 1998)

“Liberation Frequency” strikes like a coiled snake. From a distance, it sounds like a harmless track fueled by rim knocks on the snare drum and a thin sounding guitar. Still, something is awry; the whole thing sounds just a little too tightly wound. Even when the drummer opens up the beat a little bit, it feels like something holds him back, and the cries of “we want the airwaves back” sound far off. Only after being lulled in does the snake strike (and strike quickly). Everything stops except for a faint guitar lick played before the onslaught of full volume guitars, bashed cymbals, and full-throated screams. As quickly as it arrived, the song returns to the restrained bridge just like a snake waiting for it’s next victim, and even though we know it will happen again, we can’t help but move in a little too close to its space.

This song will always remind me of my first experience listening to college radio. I remember after getting my drivers’ license in 1999 that I soon discovered WNHU, a fine student run radio station based out of the University of New Haven. One of the shows I used to listen to intermittently was named after this song. Liberation Frequency and many of the other afternoon shows on WNHU filled my Plymouth station wagon with punk rock I rarely heard of (or rarely heard again, thanks to a limited income) during my high school years. Once I became involved with college radio (first at WDOM and later at WQAQ), I used to come home from breaks and recognize a lot of the same stuff that would come through our station. Even though I usually listen to my iPod in the car, I’ll turn on WNHU from time to time just to see what they’re playing. Looking back now, “Liberation Frequency” made sense as a college radio theme song. If nothing else, it was slightly less obvious that the moniker I used for a lot of my tenure. The “we want the airwaves back” made sense for a punk rock show in the early 21st century, but I think the “we don’t just want airtime / we want all the time” made more sense as a college radio rally cry. I know from my experience, being exposed to good college radio – radio produced by DJs passionate about their music, open to new songs, and not completely devoid of a personality – meant developing an addiction to looking past mainstream radio to find hidden gems and new favorites.

More on Refused: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 22, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Amphetamine” – Rocket from the Tombs
(Words/music: Peter Laughner, available on The Day the Earth Met the Rocket from the Tombs, Smog Veil 2002)

As previously mentioned in Some Songs Considered, I’ve had some wonderful experiences as a college radio DJ. I met a lot of awesome people and learned about a tremendous amount of music both old and new. Being a DJ was one of the most valuable experiences I had in college – it builds public speaking skills (or at least providing a bridge into public speaking by having an audience but not having to physically see it), breeds humility (when you go two hours without a phone call), and introduces many of us to the value and impact of alternative media (to this day, half of my presets in my car are local college stations). Yes, there were many nights (and, more recently, mornings) when the songs I played were my only company, but on many occasions people called to ask for a new song or say hi. Others were less conventional – I got asked for directions once, received a 10 minute lecture about how I should see the director’s cut of Donnie Darko, and maybe my favorite one of all time (paraphrased) – “I love your show – me and my cats listen all the time!”

My favorite calls, for obvious reasons, were the people that wanted to talk music. Most of the time, it would be some jubilant local resident calling to find out the current song. We’d chat for a few minutes about the song, what it sounded like, and whether the rest of the album was as good (or, in some cases, better). Usually, because of the DJ-listener arrangement, I was the one giving the advise and would occasionally receive tips on new things when they were something I didn’t own or something the station didn’t have. One time, while playing a live version of Wilco’s “Misunderstood,” a man called me up and told me how “Misunderstood” quoted a verse from a song called “Amphetamine.” I had seen the liner notes that gave credit to another song, but never really thought too much about it. We talked about Wilco a little bit, and my listener told me how Rocket From the Tombs’ members went on to form Pere Ubu and The Dead Boys (whose “Sonic Reducer” will appear here soon), and soon afterward, I hunted down “Amphetamine.”

It makes sense after listening to “Amphetamine” why Jeff Tweedy would borrow the opening lines of the song to use in his own composition. Written by guitarist Peter Laughner before his death in 1977, “Amphetamine” focuses on the same sort of suburban restlessness and frustration experienced in “Misunderstood.” The verses ring with melancholic guitar lines intermingling with the storyline. Appropriately, Laughner almost joined Television before his death, and “Amphetamine” sounds like a Television song played at a slower pace. Laughner clearly had songwriting chops too, as “Amphetamine” adeptly moves from the slower ballad-like verses into a more frenetic chorus (oh, listen to those drums!), mimicking the “hurry up and wait” feel of the song. Like suburban life (or, following the title’s nod, a speed rush), there’s highs and lows, but the highs come too quick (and, as the chorus suggests, are solitary parties) and the lows tend to stretch too far. While many others in the late 70s turned this suburban angst into three chord thrashes, Laughner approached the subject with a tinge of sadness and reservation, not to mention a hell of an ear for melody.

More on Rocket from the Tombs: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 7, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Dirty Old Town” - Ted Leo
(Words/music: Ewan MacColl, appears on “Tell Balgeary, Balgury is Dead” EP, Lookout! 2003)

I’ve been blessed to have been involved with college radio while earning both of my degrees (first at WDOM in Providence, later at WQAQ in Connecticut), and it was (and continues to be) an important factor in my ever evolving musical taste. This post, however, isn’t my love letter to college radio (that comes with a different song) but rather a reflection of my favorite experience as a DJ.

I was fortunate enough to meet and interview Ted Leo during February 2003, right after the Hearts of Oak album came out (and right after I discovered his music). It was a surreal experience for a college sophomore to have to plan questions and interview someone who would be on Conan O’Brien later that week. From the moment that we helped Ted cart in his amplifier and guitar case (the same ones he still uses years later), it was apparent that Ted was almost as grateful to have the opportunity to appear on our modest station as we were to have him come to us. Through all sorts of stumbling blocks – our station’s faulty heater (it didn’t work a lot that winter), a less than vegan friendly cafeteria, his nagging vocal chord problems, and my nervous propensity to mix metaphors (he signed a poster with one of my quotes - “top to bottom, front to back” - my attempt to complement the body of songs on Hearts of Oak), Ted remained upbeat, enthusiastic, and completely engaging. We had Ted on for an hour or so – a mix of discussions about ska music, going to Catholic school, listening to New Order, and other topics with about half a dozen performances of songs from The Tyranny of Distance and Hearts of Oak. By the end of the afternoon, everyone in the room not only became fans of his music, but became fans of the man. In addition to his kindness and wit, Ted’s personal ethics shine through everything he does. Few contemporaries champion their causes as earnestly and completely and it seems that he has time to play on behalf of people and causes that he supports (for example, playing a benefit for a local punk rock promoter who recently passed away).

“Dirty Old Town” was the last song that Ted played that day, introducing it as a “song for the city of Providence.” I didn’t know the song (I hadn’t discovered The Pogues at that point), but I was struck by how he sang someone else’s song with the same passion and conviction that he sang his own songs. Looking back at that day nearly six years later, I have two prevailing thoughts. The first is the refreshing realization that the people that we’re fans of are fans themselves. It’s clear that Ted has a passion for music (look at the wide body of cover songs in his repertoire – in particular the obscure songs he’s playing on his recent solo tour) and that even to this day he remains a fan. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I’ve learned that songs don’t belong exclusively to their authors – they belong to us all. We all have our own unique memories associated with individual songs – sometimes shared, sometimes private – and that some songs immediately can immediately bring us back to a specific place or time. I’m not sure what Ted Leo thinks of when he hears Shane MacGowan sing “Dirty Old Town,” but this song will always make me think back to that afternoon in Providence where I got to interview one of my favorite musicians.

More on Ted Leo: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

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