Yes, memory is now like that comback you thought of a half an hour too late.

About a half an hour after I finished the last post, I finally remembered the film I'd watched (and deleted form the DVR) which I wanted to note someday before I forget it completely. It was Tim Burton's "Big Fish". I like Burton's movies, even the less than successful ones. It's the kind of movie in which no one gets any appendages cut off in clinical detail while fighting invading intergalactic warriors. There aren't even any transforming intergalactic warriors. There is a transformation of sorts, but it's part of a story about a man who is a teller of tall tales, and his relationship with his son. Released in 2003, it probably couldn't get made today, even for an internet only streaming content provider. All in all, a lovely little film I hope to see again someday.

As usual, I'm running late on some things and rushing through others. One item in the "late" category is the posting of my radio show from April the 2nd. The show opened with a few songs to greet the new month, then turned to a meditation of sorts on the idea of a pop song "April in Paris".



By the way, I've noticed that some of my shows posted here through SoundCloud no longer display the player/picture for that episode. Just click on the square and go to my account on SoundCloud - I have shows archived there going back to November 29th, 2014.

There's lots of other stuff and nonsense on which I'd like to catch up, but have little time to do so. Which means that I'm going to post last night's show and go do other things.

I would like to make a mental note that today is the anniversary of my turning on the new transmitter which put WVEW-lp back on the air almost a year after the fire at the Brooks House. This event was on April the 10th, 2012.  I had also turned on the old transmitter when the station made its broadcast debut on September 1st, 2006.  I turned the transmitter on for radio free brattleboro a couple of times, too. It's probably quite wrong to be proud of such things, but I am for many reasons I'm not going to enumerate just now.

Okay, now - last night's show played a few for lyricist E. Y. "Yip" Harburg, whose birthday was April the 8th. And I played a few for Capitol Records, which was founded around this time in 1942. Accounts differ, and I've seen April the 9th (1942) listed as the day the company was founded, the day it changed its name from Liberty Records to Capitol (about a week after the founding), and the day on which its first record was cut. And finally, there was a set for pianist/band leader Martin Denny who practically founded the "Exotica" movement of the late 1950's and early 60's which resulted in a proliferation of Tiki bars and lounges. The image for the sound file for the show is of a woman listening to a crystal radio made out of a coconut shell. It seemed appropriate at the time.



As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show(s).

p.s. Well, what do you know, all of the shows form this year are now displaying their players properly. I'd written an old address I had for Soundcloud's tech support (all such info having vanished from their site), but never heard from them. I'm just glad it's working again. It's not like friends or family are currently waiting with baited breath for each and every post, but I'd like things to be available for anyone who stumbles upon these pages.

Easter Sunday

I've probably mentioned this before, but I miss the local tradition of a downtown Easter Sunday zombie walk. I think the last time I saw it was on Easter Sunday 2012. That was on April the 8th, and the main reason I remember is that I spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon assisting our engineer with setting up and wiring the new WVEW-lp studio. You know, it would explain a lot about these last few years if I were to assume that the zombies got me.

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Curses! Sidetracked again!

 

 

On to other tasks. I shall have to miss today's chance to be brilliantly witty, charming, and possessed of... well, maybe just leave it as possessed.

 

And now (drumroll please) last night radio show. (Applause, cheers) (moves hands up and down, "Thank You, Thank You, that's enough now, thank you".)

 

As you may have guessed, it's a themed show chock full of secular Easter time stuff from ye olde days of radio, and commercially released sound recordings made on black shellac.

 

 As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.



 

Life in an autumn garden...

Once again it seems I have let time fritter away. Not that fritters were involved, mind you. Fritters are fried balls of dough stuffed with anything from apples to a cornmeal mixture. Now I'm wondering how the idiomatic expression got started. The oldest reference I just found with a quick internet glance was in a Dickens novel. At times like this I can't make up my mind if the internet is a blessing or a curse. Just a few years ago I would have to drag out the Oxford English Dictionary, get out the special magnifying lens.... in other words, depending on the day and mood, I'd probably just move on and continue writing. Now I can look it up through several online sources within seconds. Hmmm, it never occurred to me before, but the internet may be an ADD nirvana dream.

It has been a few years since Monarch butterflies visited the garden. There used to be so many of them.
Yesterday I was stunned to see three of them at once. I hope they are making a comeback.

Life has once again been careening mildly out of control. In attempting to write the paragraph above I fielded two phone calls. It isn't even 8:30 in the morning. It is, however, a morning with a gloriously slow rain, the kind that leaves a slick shine to roadways and autumn leaves; the kind that has a delicate hint of mist peeking through the yellow orange green that provides a perfect visual accompaniment to sipping coffee (or tea, or hot chocolate, or an aged single malt scotch, or....).

 

The wet discourages any thoughts of doing further work to shut down the gardens. I've spent most of my time working on Solar Hill's beds. I'm the sort of gardener who won't cut down the peony over there because its leaves turn a crimson that illuminates the light blue asters or a view of the broken bench propped up with rocks, which is currently framed by the fruit hanging from that Japanese dogwood and the turning colors of a stewartia.

I never got the time to post my radio show from October the 3rd, so this post will be another twofer. Let's get that one out of the way right now. That show played a couple of songs welcoming the arrival of autumn, and that day's birthday of lyricist Johnny Burke. Then the old Philco's tuning dial was spun a few times as it centered on October the 3rd, 1945 for The Spotlight Bands show, which that night featured Artie Shaw. We also put a few nickels in the jukebox that month.

In my own defense, I should note that my excuses for not posting also include dealing with the problems and affairs of the all volunteer community radio station I manage. The past couple of weeks have been particularly vexing. With over 60 DJs of varying age, egos, and temperament, anything which happens on our floor is automatically blamed on us. There were a few problems with our landlord. Somehow, an original bannister in a 150 year old historic office building was broken. As one of our shows had a live band (which generated a very late night noise complaint from someone working in an office space underneath of our studio) we were blamed - the musicians must have done it. It seemed logical. Until I found out that the musicians were two skinny young guys whose entire equipment consisted of a banjo and a guitar. Last Thursday was our non-profit's annual meeting (and potluck). I should point out that I'm the President of the Board; and that I dislike most meetings for no other particular reason than that I've been to one too many between my days toiling in the fields of Mammon and places like the radio station (which used to be run by its DJs, but is now run by the non-profit's Board). There was a new edition of our print schedule to get ready and send off to the shop to coincide with our on-air fundraising week. There was Windows 10. And Mercury retrograde. There was one period not so long ago when I wasn't running the station or  the Board. Over that year and a half, there were almost no meetings to attend. It was wonderful.

The garden year is nearly over, yet the colors and unexpected pairings are as distracting as Spring.

The last two weeks also saw a few adventures with my neighbor. I live in a building which has one wing where the apartments are, well, apart. There are two of us with studios whose entrance is off of a balcony in the back. My immediate neighbor is a troubled young man in his 20's. Since he moved in a couple of months ago, he's been a fairly constant source of aggravation. At the beginning of last week, he had another episode. It started with a lot of yelling and screaming of vulgar words and less than appealing terminology. He was throwing out someone he was letting live there, almost broke the front balcony's railing throwing out the roommates mattress and clothing, etc. A short time later the ex-roommate threatened to kill him. So did the women who live upstairs. I should point out that we both live on the 2nd floor of a two story building, and there was only one voice yelling and screaming. This young fellow has no telephone and uses mine to call the hospital when he's messed up his meds, or the police when someone is threatening him. There were a couple of days of the police coming, and slowly calming him down to the point that he would go with them. Then wherever they took him inexplicably let him go. He showed up at 2 am and proceeded to have a physical fight with someone on our building's front lawn, but he was the only person out there. At 3:30am he finally called the police (using my phone). He was home within 6 hours or so. He is not getting the help he needs. All of the police know him, and say he is much better than he used to be.

Well, I've rambled on quite a bit; the length of this post will soon rival an Epistle to the Ephesians. In todays world of electronic social communications, anything longer than a few sentences seems antisocial as it is too long for anyone to read. No wonder the music of today is mostly a beat with incomprehensible lyrics; few seem to have an attention span capable of comprehending the lyrics to a 3 minute song. It's music for an ADD world.

Which bring us to Saturday's show (October 10th) which played a few for Columbus Day, fall foliage, and the birthdays of singer Lee Wiley, composer Vernon Duke, bandleader and songwriter Johnny Green, and the wonderful Red McKenize. Mr. McKenize, one of the early jazz practitioners, used to play the comb - with a sheet of paper over it to modulate the sound. He was also a vocal artist who could make an ordinary piece into an art song. Not that he sang ordinary pieces.

As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show(s).

Getting to the New Washday Miracle

Geez. And just to clarify things, I mean that as in an exclamation of surprise or annoyance, not as an abbreviation for "geezer" (which is definitely how I'm feeling this week). (Although come to think of it 'annoyed geezer' does come fairly close to my current concept of self... I mean, after all, I worked very hard at being a young curmudgeon; now that I'm at the proper age I guess I should embrace the concept.)

The process of aging has been kind of liberating in its own way. Some time back I got used to not knowing who all the hot young things were or are. Did getting older give me the permission I needed to ignore them, or was it just the excuse I used? There's far too many so called celebrities getting media coverage, and I'm quite content not having any idea just who the hell they are or why I should care. I even got used to the fact that these so called celebrities I've never heard of have been around for 10 or 20 years, and obtained their 15 minutes of Warhol time through tv shows, movies, or music of which I am blissfully unaware. 

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Well, Geez. It's been over two hours of interruptions since I wrote that last sentence. Whatever cranky old man prattle I was concocting has completely vacated the synapses of my aging brain. This has been the pattern of daily events since I returned to managing our community radio station. So before the phone rings again, or another email arrives which needs immediate attention, or I feel guilty about not answering a couple of other station emails

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Well, wasn't that fun - another interruption. More station problems. (We've been on and off the air a few times over the last 24 hours due to a bad circuit in the cable company's equipment.) At leas that fire is out - for now.

So as I was about to say, before something else happens, I better post this past Saturday's show. I've only been trying to do it since Sunday. I did have an escape/adventure for several hours on Monday, getting back to town with time to spare before the station's Board meeting (I'm the President).

Last Saturday's show noted the birthdays of band leader Les Brown, of the 'Band of Renown' fame (whose 'girl singer' was Doris Day); arranger, composer, and band leader Les Baxter; bandleader and trumpeter extraordinaire Harry James; St. Patrick's Day; and a wonderful March 13th, 1949 broadcast of Philco Radio Time hosted by Bing Crosby, with guests Peggy Lee, Louis Armstrong, Jack Teagarden, and Joe Venuti. (Whew!)

But first (since the phone isn't ringing and we're on the air) a few clippings from the newspaper from the days around the Philco show. That March started with the heaviest snowfall of the winter. Ads for new cars appeared almost every day, and a new household detergent was introduced. ..

 

 

I hope anyone who listens to the show enjoys it.

15 years! Really? Eyah, I counted 'em.

It's difficult to realize that it has been 15 years. The entirety of it is a heck of a story and begins about 17 years ago, or maybe even 20 years ago , or it could go back as far as 1970 or so, but all that is not relevant to this post. The basic situation is that on Saturday March the 4th, 2000, I was to start my own show on radio free brattleboro. March the 1st was the birthday of Glenn Miller. March the 2nd was the birthday of composer Kurt Weil. I was set to celebrate them both. The rfb studio had just relocated to a shed attached to the basement of a building on Main Street. The entrance required a walk down an alley, along the railroad tracks next to the Connecticut River, and up a specially built lengthy flight of wooden stairs.

The stairs - from a landing half way up the hill.

When I arrived that day, the woman with the show before mine wasn't there. The door was locked. I had no keys. A comedy of errors ensued for over an hour as I attempted to get access (I managed to track down someone who gave me the wrong key - twice!) and finally gave up the attempt. My show, still nameless at the time, debuted on March 11th.

The old radio free brattleboro studio. Computers hadn't yet entered into the studio mix,
there was no streaming internet, etc. Heck the internet was only a couple of years old.
Home made CD's had just become possible. Dave Longsmith suggested raising money
by selling rejected home burns as coasters we would call 'recycled radio'.
I hollered "That's It".  And that's how my show got its name.



Seven years later, radio free brattleboro had its equipment seized by the FCC while we were broadcasting under the protection of a Federal judge. (Like I said, it's a heck of a story.) In the meantime, the FCC had been embarrassed into giving out low power licenses again, which they hadn't done for over 20 years. One went to a new community radio station set up in Brattleboro, WVEW-lp. Before long I was back in my comfy Saturday night timeslot. Five years later there was a fire in the building which housed our studio, transmitter, and antenna. The station was wiped out. When that happens, the FCC gives license holders one year to get back on the air. The station had been managed by its staff. When the work of returning to the air started, a dissident group of the membership took over the station. Things got nasty, but the folks who started the station eventually regained control; we made it back on the air with one week to spare.

 

While it might have been better to note my show's anniversary (15 years? Really?) next Saturday, March 7th, I have other intentions for that program. March the 8th is International Women's Day, so the night before is an excellent time to produce another version of a show I've done several times over the years dedicated to the women who led swing bands. 

 

Blogger is giving me all kinds of problems, changing the colors of text, refusing to cooperate, and generally behaving like a spoiled child intent on having its way. It must have been associating with Facebook. So I'll just post a few newspaper clippings from the first week or so of March 2000, then post last night's show, which finally celebrated the birthdays of Glenn Miller and Kurt Weil.



 



 

 

This was another in the series of shows where I couldn't seem to focus on what I was doing and talk at the same time. Nevertheless, I think it turned out to be an enjoyable show. I hope anyone who listens thinks so too.

                                   

The more I try to get done the less I seem to accomplish...

There is an old saying which, if memory serves, goes something like, "Arrrgghhhhhhhhh".

Here I am working on editing segments for tonight's radio show when it suddenly occurs to me (for about the 10th time in the last few days) that I never got last week's show posted here. Like a martini without olives, this just won't do. There are standards. (And I play them, ba-da-dum.)

Last week was on-air fundraising/pledge week at our little all volunteer Community Radio Station. Even though our operating budget doesn't come close to a commercial station's, it still takes about $15,000.00 a year to keep it going. Recent problems with our antenna site and internet delivery of our programs to our transmitter ended up costing us a good bit of fee-age as well as increasing our monthly costs by $100.00. This month our yearly insurance bill arrived. It went up 25%. I got our lawyer involved and we managed to negotiate a payment schedule at almost the last moment.

The plan for my show had been to feature a January 23rd, 1946 broadcast of Cab Calloway's Orchestra. As I did the research I discovered two things - the 23rd was a Wednesday, and I had an incomplete broadcast from that Monday from the same club with different performers. The Zanzibar wasn't a one night stand kind of place. Located in Times Square on the second floor of  the Winter Garden Theatre, it was once a premiere nightspot featuring danceable black jazz bands, plus a floor show featuring scantily clad dancers. It allowed a mixed race clientele, unlike other toney spots like the Stork Club or the (by then closed) Cotton Club. Black patrons were, however, usually seated underneath the balcony overhangs.

So what was I to make of a mid-week one night booking at a popular club? Obviously, something was wrong. By the time I discovered this, I had already done the newspaper research and started publishing clippings from that week on the show's Facebook page. After a good bit of research I figured it out - the Cab Calloway show should have been dated 7-23-40 not 1-23-40. I did the honorable thing and let everyone know the situation. And, since it was pledge week, I offered to play the Cab Calloway show anyway if I reached a certain amount in pledges.

During January 1946 there was a used clothing drive to help war ravaged Europe. There were any number of strikes as people began to prepare for a post-war economy. Even the phone company was going on strike! The minimum wage had gone up a few months before to 40 cents an hour. Under the Labor laws the Roosevelt administration had passed was a requirement for time and a half over 40 hours - it was so good to get a little more for those last 10 hours most jobs required.

 

 

And here's last Saturday's show. 

 

I hope anyone who listens enjoys this one - a return visit to 1946 after just two weeks was a little unexpected, so there are two segments that were repeats, sorry about that.