Friday, August 26, 2016

Cuban Heels

If it doesn't make the hair on my arm stand up, I don't want to play it on the radio. As long as there is music that causes my heart to jump, why would anyone play mediocre stuff. Oh, you don't want to get me started on payola. I'm about as outspoken on peer pressure, charts, program directors and bad taste.

You won't catch me defending my own taste. I will always play what I like regardless of fashion. There are only two types of music as far as I can tell. Good and bad. I try to only play one type. I'm the opposite of payola.

Here's the weirdest part of my radio role: I'm crushed when someone doesn't like something that I play. You can probably guess that I'm over the moon when anyone likes any of it. It's not my ego. I didn't make these records! Any fool might question why anyone volunteers their time to program a radio show without compensation. I do.

In case it hasn't occurred to you, there's no paycheck for this blog, either.

I digress. 

Somehow, in my pea brain, I communicate with a sliver of humanity right through the ether via the radio waves. It's my social life, my love life. Really. Hey, I know cornball when I see it. If I can make you dance for a minute, if I can make you cry or blush, if I can make you laugh 'til milk runs out of your nose, I'm well paid. When I tell you on air that I love you, I love you.

Remind me to tell you about my day job sometime. 

Turn your radio on.

1 comment:

  1. I know exactly what you feel, how you feel. Miss having the regular gig.
    One date Pete Gallagher stuck his head in the studio and said I'd played the worst song he'd ever heard on WMNF. I was crushed (a bit) but I still think it's a great song. Different strokes.