So I realize I’ve been silent for quite awhile. That is bound to happen with me. Writing for me is therapy, and sometimes I need that therapy more than others. The past few weeks have been a little emotional for me, and that has little to do with the big events that have dominated the headlines… Namely the hurricane. The stuff that is eating me is something I’d hesitate to blog about, since it’s a little personal to me. I’ll tell you my opinions on many things, but there are some things I won’t talk about. This may be one of them.
Then again, there is a good chance I’ll discuss it in my next entry. Who knows? What good is my therapy if I can’t talk about what’s eating me?
But I don’t want to start there. I need a mood lightener tonight, and the best way I find to lighten my mood is to tell stories. Here is the story of why I will no longer trust Disembodied Announcer Voices. I have trust issues, I think. Mine involve trusting strangers entirely too much, and not trusting my friends enough. (I might have mentioned something that’s eating me right there….. Therapy!) Anyway, I’m way off my topic. So here’s my story.
Back in July, after about a year of no rock station in NYC, we got one back. It was a very exciting time for me, musically. After we’d lost the last great bastion of hope for hearing bands like The Black Keys and The Stone Roses, I was happy at the prospect of getting them back in regular rotation on the radio. My musical discoveries had been limited to M83 and whatever my boss (who, to his credit, does have excellent taste) said was really good. I was starving to hear something different.
KLOVE gets repetitive. Seriously, how many times can you hear the Good Morning song without swearing off the station forever? I do enjoy the positive encouragement I get from them (hahaha), but there are times I want something different. Something that’s not so happy clappy.
Top 40 radio doesn’t really do much to fill that void. After about a week of a steady diet of Rihanna and Demi Lovato, it’s hard to get the incessant drum machine beat out of your head. And how many times can you hear “Call Me Maybe” without swearing off music forever?
So when rock music and the call letters WRXP took over their vacated spot on 101.9, and I heard The Black Keys AND M83, I was over the moon. I had to temper that feeling because they became heavier on the Green Day and Pearl Jam, which to me is a throwback to the 90’s and I’m not one for living that much in the past.
But I made some discoveries, like the Lumineers and Of Monsters and Men, and a song from fun. that was not “We Are Young” (“Some Nights” — which is now getting overplayed on top 40… I still like the song though.)
They never did play any Stone Roses like the old WRXP did, and that still makes me very sad. But what did I say about 90’s bands and living in the past? (I’m a hypocrite, I guess!)
But no worries about the bad parts. The good news was, rock music was back, and according to the Disembodied Announcer Voice, which was deep and authoritative, it wasn’t going anywhere.
For a whopping 3 months, until the day a few weeks ago when I heard a commercial on my semi-beloved new rock station telling me, “It sucks when your station goes away, so when this one goes back to talk, come get your Pearl Jam, Green Day and Foo Fighters fix on our station!” That was the gist of it anyway.
Um, what? Butbutbut the Disembodied Announcer Voice said they weren’t going away….. This has to be a joke. But no, it was no joke. As quickly as some good came back to the NYC radio waves, it was gone, replaced not with original programming, but with a simulcast of WFAN. Damn you, Disembodied Announcer Voice, for getting my hopes up like that, only to dash them on the rocky cliff of sports programming!
To add insult to injury, this happened as the gas lines became unbearably long, so I had to sit through 4 hours of scanning radio stations, because I got bored with KLOVE, and the rest all sucked!
Please know, I will never ever trust Disembodied Announcer Voices ever again. You have scarred me for life. I’ve also learned that I can’t make it through a trip in the car, no matter how short, without hearing either Pitbull or Adam Levine, as well as a few other things from the radio, but those will have to wait.
Am I promising more blogging in the future? Maybe. Does this mean I’m still a neurotic mess? You betcha.