Fly-By: brb, heading to the UK for Worldcon

Hi there!  Sorry to keep you waiting on a new post.  I’ve had a somewhat busy schedule the last few weeks and have not had the time to post anything new.  Vacation starts in just a few days and I’ve been squeezing as many last-minute things in as I can.

We’ll be heading to the UK this weekend for Worldcon and much sightseeing, so I don’t believe I’ll have time to update the site during that time.  I will have access to do so, but it’s a matter of finding the time at that point, so thought I’d warn you ahead of time.  We shall see.

We’ll be in London the entire time, which means that I will most likely be taking all kinds of music-related pictures and posting them here upon return.  That, in fact, was one of the main plans of mine outside of the convention, because I’m a dork like that. 🙂

See you on the flip side!

Favorite Albums: Failure, Fantastic Planet

Credit: discogs.com

Credit: discogs.com

Say hello to the rug’s topography / it holds quite a lot of interest with your face down on it…

I distinctly remember hearing Failure for the first time; their debut Comfort had been released just as I started my senior year in college, and our FM station, WERS, had received a promotional copy, which I soon found in the freebie bins outside the studio (aka the “here, this sucks and/or is too commercial-sounding and we won’t play it” bins, given the station at the time).  I’d heard a lot of great things about the band and the album, even despite the incessant and often misguided comparisons to the ubiquitous Nirvana.  I can see where they’d get that, if you think loud guitars + quirky chord changes + odd lyrics = Nirvana or one of its clones, but I always felt that was a cop-out, a weak and lazy way to pigeonhole a newly-popular subgenre.

I played “Submission” and “Pro-Catastrophe” from that first album on my radio show on our AM station, WECB, where I was the music director that semester, and I thought they were well worth checking out and sharing with others.  My enthusiasm didn’t get too far, of course, considering WECB’s low-watt reach was ridiculously sketchy, not to mention by that time, the alternative rock purists were refusing to listening to anything remotely commercial, and that WFNX was playing Nirvana, Soundgarden and Pearl Jam every fifteen minutes or so.  Failure unfortunately could not sneak in edgewise into anyone’s playlist.  I don’t blame the band for that at all; in fact, I have to give them mad props for remaining true to the sounds they wanted to create.  They weren’t as Led-Zep as most grunge bands were, they weren’t as hard as any metal bands out there, but they also weren’t deliberately outsider anti-commercial either.

They released a second album, Magnified, in early 1994, which I unfortunately never picked up at the time, as that was during my broke years in Boston, but I did eventually pick it up a few years later while working at HMV.

That was where I fell in love with the band again.

In August of 1996, about a month before I started working at the record store, the band released the video for the single “Stuck on You”, a brilliant and almost shot-for-shot takeoff of the opening credits to the James Bond flick The Spy Who Loved Meand I was immediately hooked.  I mean, listen to that crunch–it’s drop-tuned a half-step to give it a powerful low end, and balanced with a high end distorted riff.  The whole thing just punches you in the face from the first few seconds, and doesn’t relent until the last few.  Lead singer and songwriter Ken Andrews delivers great vocals here too, drifting lazily through the verses (which, interestingly enough, are about getting a song stuck in your head) but belting them out during the choruses.

One of the first promotional freebies I got from the record store was a copy of this single, a two-track cd shaped like the head of the spaceman on the album’s cover and featuring the album version and the radio edit of the track.  Suffice it to say this track got a lot of play in the back storage room at the time.  Fantastic Planet was one of my first purchases when I first started working at HMV.  As the lone shipping/receiving clerk for the store, I often hung out up back, pricing and security-tagging and processing them into the stock database, but during all that time I’d have a radio going.  That was one of the first things I did when I started the job, actually–I got a hold of a cheap boombox at WalMart and brought it in specifically for backroom listening.  [It wasn’t just for my own entertainment, either…I did that because I knew the label reps would want us to sample some of their wares during their visits.  That worked quite to our advantage, actually.]

I knew I’d love it even before I heard any other tracks from it–the fact that they named it after the 1973 animated French film of the same name (a movie I’d taped years before off USA Network’s Night Flight and watched repeatedly) was definitely a selling point, but I’d heard a hell of a lot of positive reviews as well.  I even snagged a promotional album flat for it as well and had it posted prominently for pretty much the entire time I was at the store.   And yes, I played the hell out of that album for years to come.

 

The history behind the album is quite interesting, as Ken Andrews and bassist Greg Edwards explain in this recent interview as well as in this promo for the album’s 2010 vinyl reissue both point out that it was recorded during their most tumultuous times as a band.  Come 1995 they’d had issues not just with the label (Slash Records) not quite knowing how to sell the band, and drugs and personal issues were also causing fractures.  And yet, they retained a crystal clear idea of what they wanted the album to sound like, and took delicate care with each and every track before considering it done.  This included the production as a whole–they took care to ensure the running order was perfect as well.  The album also both starts and ends with the same trinkety sound effect loop, but it could be taken two ways: the album is either an unending cycle, or they’re a prologue and epilogue to gauge just how much the cycle has changed from one end to the other.

It’s hard to say exactly what the album may be about, really…while there is a theme of space in the science fiction sense–thus the title–it’s also about emotional space and one’s self within it.  There are songs about drug addiction and psychological breakdowns, but there are also songs about redemption and clarity as well.  Even the opening track, “Saturday Savior”, could be taken more than one way–either a throwaway relationship, or addiction denial.  The album almost has a similar lyrical and musical feel as Pink Floyd’s The Wall, where we don’t quite notice until a few songs in that things are starting to get dark and desperate.  It’s not until “Smoking Umbrellas” that the imagery becomes trippier, the chords of the song drifting in unexpected directions.  The frantic “Pillowhead” follows it up, and the narrator knows full well that he’s deep in addiction now.  By “Dirty Blue Balloons”, he’s at his “Comfortably Numb” phase, wasted beyond help, and at “Pitiful” he’s hit rock bottom.  We’ve hit the halfway point in the album, and we’re not sure where he can go from here.

And that’s when “Leo” arrives–a moment of clarity, where he’s finally able to see himself, and he doesn’t like what he sees and feels.  There’s pain, a misplaced hunger, a sense of paranoia that he can’t quite place.  There’s no real resolution, at least not yet.  The first step is a cleansing, in the form of “The Nurse Who Loved Me”.  A brilliant, beautiful angelic song (which puts A Perfect Circle’s cover to shame) that’s not just about the narrator’s coming clean physically but emotionally as well.  It’s one of the best tracks on the album, deliberately constructed to build tension both in sound and pace, right up until the last second…and ending with a breath of exhaustion and relief.  And by “Another Space Song” and “Stuck On You”, he’s back on the mend.  There’s still addiction–emotional addiction this time–that needs stopping and healing.  He faces it head on on “Heliotropic”, one of the heaviest and angriest tracks on the album.  He’s forcing himself to admit guilt and turn away from the temptations once and for all.  Redemption and relief finally come to him in the epic closer “Daylight”–he’s gone through hell physically and emotionally, most of it his own doing, and he’s made peace with it…now it’s time to make peace with himself.

 

When I first heard this album, I did pick up on the addiction references, but I also chose to see past them for the overall mood of the album, just as I had back in my teens with The Wall–it wasn’t so much about the actual story being told that intrigued me as it was about the way it was told.  I don’t really pay too much attention to the literal meaning of the lyrics; instead I see the peaks and the valleys in this album as if they’re part of a novel or a movie, with its sequencing taking us on a deep spiritual and emotional journey.  It tells a story, and it tells it without flinching.  It’s because of this that it fell into heavy rotation during my writing sessions for the Bridgetown Trilogy, and helped inspire the ending scene in A Division of Souls.  It’s remained one of my top ten favorite albums, and still gets heavy play–I even have it on the mp3 player I use at the gym.

Favorite Albums: The La’s, The La’s

Source: discogs.com

Source: discogs.com

If you want I’ll sell you a life story
About a man who’s at loggerheads with his past all the time
He’s alive and living in purgatory
All he’s doing is rooming up in hotels
And scooping up lots of wine

Many of you already know this band as a one-hit wonder with their single “There She Goes”, which hit the American airwaves in early 1991 and appeared pretty much everywhere in the early 90s, from tv shows to movie soundtracks. You may have also heard the oft-told story of lead singer Lee Mavers’ never-ending search for the perfect sound for their music, and that the album was released against his wishes. Their single self-titled album is listed on all kinds of best-of lists even today, and is highly praised by many music critics.

But is it as excellent as they say it is? I would definitely agree that it is. Let’s put aside the argument of “…but it’s not the album that Lee Mavers wanted put out.” Let’s be honest, I can see where Mavers was coming from, but sometimes your creation doesn’t quite match what’s in your brain, and you have to make do with the end result if it’s close but not perfect. Steve Lillywhite, the last producer to work with the band, pretty much had the job of making a finished product for Polydor Records, whether or not Mavers was happy with it. Let’s take a look at the end result.

The La’s were (are?) a Liverpudlian band who wore their influences openly and proudly–the pre-fame Teddy image look of the Beatles (as well as their ’64 Dylan-inspired folk rock sound), the simple-yet-catchy songwriting of Buddy Holly, with a dash of the lo-fi DIY of 60s garage bands. Mavers’ songs were the kind you’d kick around with your buddies in your uncle’s back shed, songs of love and longing, of frustration and irritation. At the same time it’s a dedication to craft, filled with intricate guitar picking and tight band playing. They’re well aware how to write a song correctly, where no tracks ramble or lose direction.

“Son of a Gun” kicks off the album and sets the scene: a tale about a man entering the 90s, who may have had an exciting and adventurous past, but now seems lost and listless. You’re not quite sure if he’s talking about a friend of his or if he’s actually talking about himself but hiding his failure behind third-person narrative. He returns to this directionlessness multiple times throughout the album: the folky skiffle “Doledrum” , the slow doom of “Freedom Song”, the waltzy “Way Out”…and in a brilliant move, he returns one final time to this theme in the excellent epic closer “Looking Glass”.  By this final contemplation, however, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s got to break the cycle once and for all if he wants to escape it–in fact, he comes to terms with the fact that his past is gone, and the only way he can move is forward.  Not that the whole album is a study on suburban Brittish ennui; there’s a number of uplifting songs involved as well, from the big single “There She Goes” and the perky “Feelin'”, and the love of music in “Timeless Melody”  Each song delivers its own take on Britain’s blue-collar listlessness, condemning it, celebrating it, and ultimately breaking free of it.

The La’s was released in October of 1990 in the UK, but did not reach American shores until March of 1991, where it was an instant hit with the growing alternative rock crowd.  In Boston, where I was in college at the time, many tracks off the album got airplay on both WFNX and WBCN, and remained a favorite on both of those stations throughout the 90s.  Even after the rather twee take on “There She Goes” by Sixpence None the Richer, the original still version still gets played to this day.

 

On a more personal note, this album came out right about the time I was finishing off my sophomore year in college.  I was rooming with Mike on the fourth floor of Charlesgate, and I’m pretty sure I drove him nuts by listening to this album in those final months of that semester.  But this year was also the first summer where I stayed in the city rather than head back home for the season–I rented out a room at a Fisher College dorm just down the street from Emerson College’s old Back Bay campus and retained my job at the Emerson library media center.  As nearly all of my college friends had gone home and my then-girlfriend was still in high school, I was pretty much completely on my own for those three months.  I did a lot of thinking, a lot of working things out, a lot of future planning…and a lot of writing, both words and music.  A few weeks into the season I ran into Lissa, a girl from my circle of friends at the time, and we hit it off as friends.  We’d end up sharing an apartment for about a year, spending my entire junior year in a spacious apartment on Beacon Street (this was well before the city got rid of rent control, so we could still afford to live there).

I remember listening to The La’s incessantly during this period, as it seemed to mirror a lot of what was going on in my own life.  I too was listless and directionless, having come to the frustrating conclusion that as a film student I doubt I’d ever get close to making the dream of actually making films a reality; my relationship with my girlfriend at the time had started to deteriorate and would finally come to an end by the end of 1992; and even my friendship with Lissa would become strained.  I found myself listening to “Looking Glass” on repeat in an attempt to remind myself that I couldn’t wallow in pathetic self-pity–I simply had to move forward, one way or another.  It would take much longer than expected to get my shit together and move ahead, but I was bound and determined to make it happen, despite all the setbacks.  In late 1993 I would start gathering my ideas for a story based on this time in my life and named it Two Thousand.  I have various incomplete versions laying about and have this on one of my backburners.  And around that same time, I’d start writing my first science fiction story, which would, after nearly twenty years, end up morphing into the Mendaihu Universe and The Bridgetown Trilogy.

Tell me where I’m going…
Tell me where I’m bound…
Turn the pages over
Turn the world around
Open up the broken door for all lost will be found
Walk into the empty room but never make a sound
Oh tell me where I’m going
Tell me why I’m bound to tear the pages open
Turn the world around…

 

Fly-by and Shameless Plug Time!

Yeah, best laid plans and all that…I had some interesting ideas to toy with for a new post, but kind of got distracted by my Great Office Cleanup Project.  In short, I decided that my old arrangement of printed manuscripts on the bottom shelf (and partially blocked by a file box) and unsorted piles of stuff on the shelf above wasn’t working.  What I thought would take one day ended up taking both Saturday and Sunday, as the cleanup also included the partially obscured bookcase next to the loveseat, the four small storage boxes next to the desk, and the rest of the tall black bookshelf.

All told, I got rid of about twenty ancient spiral notebooks, most of them over a decade old, that I haven’t used in ages–I ripped out what few pages I did use and sorted them into their proper piles and threw the remains in the recycling.  There’s also a box full of stuff that can either be shredded or tossed, and one final smaller box of non-writing personal bits and bobs that I need to sort through.  I reorganized by putting all related project stuff together, putting trunked and unimportant projects down on the bottom shelf, and current projects up on the second.  All poetry and journals are together on another shelf, and all the reference books are up on top.  In short, it’s still a bit messy, but at least I know where the hell everything is now!

We shall return to our regularly scheduled writing this week, and I’m planning to get another post out ASAP. Thanks again for your patience!

 

That said…

SHAMELESS PLUG TIME!

Please check out the Kickstarter for Decomposure’s latest possible album project!

I’m plugging his project for two three reasons:

1.  I’m a big fan of his music, and it’s worth checking out, especially 2012’s Eating Chicken.  He’s done everything from experimental sound textures to lovely balladry to quirky angular pop.  He’s quite the excellent songwriter and I love what he’s done creatively.

2. I like the idea he came up with for this current project, as it’s got some parallels to what I’m doing here with Walk in Silence, by revisiting his childhood via roadtrip and writing an album about it.  I’m quite curious as to how this will unfold and would love to hear new music from him.

3.  Like many creative people, he actually records music as a labor of love, as he actually has a full-time career outside of the music field.  I’ll pay forward to anyone who’s that dedicated to their craft.

So yeah–check it out, and give him some love and cash if you can! 🙂

Writing Walk in Silence, the book

You may have seen my occasional tweets, or my weekend updates at my trusty old Live Journal, in which I’ve been voicing my surprise at how quickly Walk in Silence, the book, has been coming along.  As of today, I’m a few pages in to Chapter 5, in which I talk about key events of 1986 that bring me closer to my long-standing obsession with alternative rock–in this case, MTV’s addition of The Monkees, Monty Python’s Flying Circus and 120 Minutes, as well as my discovering college radio during spring break.

I chose to plot this book similar to how I’ve seen a number of creative non-fiction books written: the opening prologue introducing the ultimate key moment of the entire book (my discovering college radio), and in the ensuing first few chapters explaining how I got to that point.  In this case, this includes my other musical obsessions, namely the Beatles, listening to radio in general, and being a part of the first generation of MTV viewers.  Other things pop up, including Miami Vice, classic rock, American Top 40, and other decidedly non-alternative points.  Now that I’m back to that same prologue point, I can move forward focusing mostly on the alternative sounds from here on in.

The bit that surprises me the most is how far I’ve gotten in such a small time.  This is definitely a rough and relatively short first draft, as the word count is only at around 12k, but given the chronology I’ve given myself, I still have a ways to go.  I music collection did not expand nearly as much until around 1986 or so anyway.  Once I hit that Defining Moment, I was not only buying new alt-rock music, but catching up with the older stuff as well.  A good portion of this book will actually focus around 1986-1989–both around the time the genre started gaining more ground, as well it being a time of personal growth for me.

I haven’t given myself a hard deadline to get this first draft finished, but I have made a tentative guess that I should be done with it by the end of summer, perhaps sometime into early autumn.  By far the fastest I’ve ever written any book, first draft or no.  I think I’ve chalked this one up to the fact that I’ve been thinking about this stuff since the time the music came twenty some-odd years ago, and that I’ve been doing light research on it for at least five or six.  At this point I’m putting it all in focus and getting it all down on the screen.   Do I know how long the future drafts and revisions will take?  I’m not thinking about that right now, to be honest.  I just want to get it all out at this time; I’ll start fixing it on the next go-rounds.

Casey Kasem 1932 – 2014

Casey Kasem is partly to blame for my lifelong obsession with music.

It goes back to the late 70s and early 80s, when my older sisters listened to the radio and caught the countdowns. They were nowhere near obsessive about it as I was, but it was my eldest sister who would sometimes tape songs off the radio, creating her own mixtapes, a habit I would pick up in the early 80s myself. We’d listen to the American Top 40 on weekends, catching the countdowns during our roadtrips to Keene or Leominster, or I’d catch them while scanning the dial looking for something to listen to while I did my homework.

Kasem was the co-creator of the long-running American Top 40 radio show we all know and love. His version of the countdown was a flashier, glossier version of the old AM Top 40 announcer of the 50s and 60s, ready with a soundbite or a PSA or an emotional Long Distance Dedication. Sure, it was scripted and flashy and aimed to excite the listeners, move them emotionally somehow, and it worked. Kasem delivered it with panache, sometimes corny and sometimes ridiculous in its earnestness, but you could tell he meant every single word of it. The whole point was to say “Hey–listen to these great songs.” The countdown itself was originally pulled straight from Billboard (and later Radio and Records, and now Mediabase) so you understood that it was about sales and popularity, but that was part of the game–what song was going to hit Number 1 this week? Who was it going to unseat from that top spot? What new songs would debut? Kasem understood this game, and played it perfectly.

He was also one of the deejays with a distinctive voice: Wolfman Jack’s growl, Howard Stern’s bassy, nasal chatter, the homey drawl of Garrison Keillor…the showbiz flash of Casey Kasem. It was also the voice of Scooby Doo‘s Shaggy of course, forever regaling us with the classic flustering “Zoinks!”, but for many of us, especially those of us who tuned in every week, it was the friendly voice of our best friend the music geek, giving us the most obscure and left-field music trivia about our favorite songs. He’d even throw a fascinating 12-inch remix in there if he could. It was great fun.

I wasn’t a constant listener to AT40, but for a while there in the mid-80s, from around 1984 to 1987, I listened enough to pick up on all the latest and greatest. A lot of my mixtapes from then were songs culled from those countdowns. Those mixtapes would in turn inspire my ‘compilation’ mixtapes, and his countdowns would inspire my end-of-year countdowns over the years. He was a showman and quite an inspiration to me.

Rik Mayall 1958-2014

I remember the first time I ever watched The Young Ones on MTV. It was probably early 1987, after I’d started watching 120 Minutes, taping episodes and watching them later that week. At first I only taped 120, but as I would start the VCR timer a few minutes early, I’d always catch the last few minutes of whatever previous show was playing. They were no longer playing music videos but some loud and wacky UK show, so I thought I’d give it a go, set the timer a half hour earlier.

The “Bombs” episode was the first one I’d taped and watched. The first thing you see, after stock footage of a fighter plane dropping the titular bomb, is a close-up of Rik Mayall’s character attempting to pop a zit in the bathroom mirror, spouting ridiculously bad political poetry and singing the Beatles’ “Revolution” while putting on deodorant. Within minutes he’s having an argument with his roommate Vyvyan, and things head downhill from there. It’s loud and boisterous, quite often in poor taste, and VERY of its time of Thatcher’s early 80s Britain. And it’s goddamn hilarious.

Rik was often my favorite character on this series, taking everything to brilliant and often absurd extremes. Vyv might be the amusingly destructive punk, neil the lovably dim hippie, and Mike the shyster and person in charge (read: the only roommate with somewhat of a brain between his ears), but Rik was the character who sang to me. He was the most vocal character, unafraid to cross lines in his dialogue, sometimes completely unaware that there were lines there to begin with. He spoke what was on his mind, regardless as to whether it made sense.

In “Bombs”, each roommate has their own reaction to finding a bomb in their kitchen, blocking the refrigerator. Vyv attempts to set the thing off (and delivering my favorite non-sequitur of the entire series when he fails). Mike is cool-headed, already planning to sell it to the highest bidding government. neil appropriately freaks out like any good hippie should, and prepares himself for the fallout accordingly. It’s Rik who has the most realistic scheme, immediately deciding to use it as collateral against Thatcher’s rule. He too completely fails, but not before he manages to go on a number of lengthy political diatribes. Most of them are extremely leftist and completely absurd, and ultimately brilliant satire.

Ultimately, I think The Young Ones influenced my outlook on life from my late teens onwards; life just seemed to be much more agreeable if I remembered just how absurd it often is. Rik Mayall often played those types of characters; hapless bassist Colin Grigson in the “Bad News” episodes of The Comic Strip, the moral-free but ultimately kind-hearted titular imaginary friend in Drop Dead Fred, the over-the-top military hero Lord Flashheart in Blackadder II, and the ridiculously conservative MP Alan B’stard on The New Statesman. He was never big here in the US other than in The Young Ones, but he definitely left a mark on me.

RIP, Rik, you right bastard…thanks for all the laughs.

Fly-by: I’m wide awake and these memories can’t wait

So where have I been for the past month? I had planned on getting some blogging done here, but as you can see, there’s been a bit of a delay. A good delay, though. Since my last entry here, I’ve been working hard at the Walk in Silence outline. It’s quite long at 30+ pages and around 11k words (granted, a lot of those are song and album titles I may use), and I just finished it up a few days ago.  That took a lot of my time, because I didn’t want to forget any details.  Am I going to use all of it?  Probably not…I can already see a few places where I’ve repeated myself, and I can fix that when I come to the writing part of it.

So how am I going to write this, anyway?  I have absolutely no background in writing nonfiction other than blog posts here and elsewhere, where I wax poetic either about past personal events or write overviews about albums and/or bands.  But really…I had no background writing science fiction and fantasy before I started the Mendaihu Trilogy, so I have to start somewhere, right?  And I figure–just start at the beginning, let it flow and not worry too much about the wording just yet.  Just like my fiction.

I started writing it just a few days ago and I only have about 1500 words so far, but once I get back into the groove of writing again, I’m sure the word count will rise.

So yes…that’s what I’ve been doing.  I wanted to give as much focus to the outline as possible and prep myself for the Big Writing Push, and because of that, a lot of my blog posting fell by the wayside.  [I’ve also been filling in for a vacationing coworker and doing double-duty for the last two weeks, so there’s been absolutely no downtime during the day to sneak in some extra work.  She’s returning tomorrow, so I’ll have more breathing room quite soon.]

 

So!  That being said…as mentioned over at the other blog, starting soon I’ll be working on new blog posts very soon, perhaps starting off once a week and maybe expanding further down the line.  I still have a backlog of ideas I’d like to hit on, so expect to see those quite soon!

 

Making it official…

Just posting here for posterity to say that I’ve just now (well, about 7:10pm PT, so a short time ago) officially started work on the BOOK of Walk in Silence. There’s two reasons for this:

1. I’m about twenty chapters away from finishing off the major revision of the Mendaihu Trilogy, and have noticed that I’ve been getting a lot more work done via my tablet just before bed than in the hour or so I usually give myself after dinner, so those last twenty chapters will be worked on there.

2. I’ve been itching to start something new for a good couple of years now, especially now that I’m on a good creative roll, and I’ve decided I just can’t wait anymore. It’s high time for me to kick this project into high gear.

Of course everything is in place: many of my reference books are about five feet away in a bookcase, I have SiriusXM’s “Classic College Radio” channel playing, I have a bottle of Dr Pepper open, and I’m finishing off my pint of Ben & Jerry’s Boston Cream Pie ice cream. [I can’t really say that it should be Mountain Dew and Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips–those are official Mendaihu Universe snacks, not WiS snacks. Not that I’m trying to set a new, fattening and sugary precedent here.]

SO! Be it known that as of 7:10pm PT on 4/29/2014, I’ve started officially working full-time on the book Walk in Silence. I will of course keep you all updated and post any interesting snippets or bits and bobs that may not get into the book but are definitely worth sharing.

Wish me luck! 🙂

On College Radio vs Progressive Radio in Massachusetts in the late 80s

I’ve been thinking about this subject lately, partly due to the way I’ve decided to frame the text of Walk in Silence in book form.  I did not want to write just a memoir, nor did I want to write a simple book about alternative rock. I decided to make it a hybrid of both, and in the process I wanted to do a bit of research on radio history in general.  I not only want to go over some of the highlights of great alternative rock of the time and talk about my favorite songs and albums, but I want to explain the genre itself–how it formed, how it got there, and how it related to other music (and points in history) at that particular time.  It’s not just enough for me to say why “Under the Milky Way” is my all-time favorite song; I wanted to explain that the Church’s Starfish album was make-or-break for them after years of not-quite-success.  There’s also the fact that in the 80s, the lines between pop music, rock, and “new wave” were a hell of a lot more defined then.

On a more professional note, however, there were two different kinds of stations playing this kind of music at the time as well, and that’s what I want to speak about here.

There was the college radio station: the longtime home to the alternative, the free-form, and the not-quite-professional.  Ratings didn’t matter to college radio, only that they had the funding from wherever it happen to come from, be it fund drives or grants or the listening audience.  For most college stations, especially for colleges where it was more of an extracurricular position rather than part of the curriculum, the student disc jockeys may have at the least been instructed to vary their playlist or play a few core tracks, and at most been given stern reminders of FCC rules and regulations.  Other than that, you could get away with playing whatever you liked.  For the most part, the quality and style depended on whose shift you were listening to.  Some disc jockeys would play hardcore punk or EBM (Electronic body music, a danceable subgenre of industrial rock and championed by many European groups like Front 242), or maybe even that new post-punk influenced rock stuff coming from the UK, like the Smiths and the Cure.

On the other hand–or should I say, up a little higher on the dial–there were the professional radio stations.  Short version: by the early to mid 1980s, there seemed to be a shift in popular radio, and a lot of stations were starting to feel the crunch.  Slightly longer version: considering that popular FM radio was pretty much still in its teens at this time (it sounds weird, but it’s true: popular FM radio as we know it today really didn’t come into wide popularity well until the mid to late 70s), the FM stations that tried to cater to all sounds and styles were beginning to flounder.  Listening habits changed and people wanted to hear more of their favorite styles rather than a wide and often weird mishmash.  The wildly successful pop stations of AM yesteryear were now the wildly successful pop stations of FM now.  The rock stations did well, but they were also splintering, often due to their listenership; some like Worcester’s WAAF 107.3FM with its younger fanbase continued to follow trends to play the latest hard rock, while others like East Longmeadow’s WAQY 102.1FM began to drift with its older fanbase towards classic rock.

Of the latter, a newer subgenre emerged.  Partly inspired by the more adventurous free-form sounds of 70s FM radio, the arrival of Album-Oriented Radio (AOR) in the late 70s and early 80s catered more towards the connoisseur radio listener, the avid music listener who wanted more than just the throwaway pop or the mindless party rock.  True to its name, its playlist prided itself on featuring non-single album tracks, providing the listener with a much wider experience.  As the 80s wore on however, it was found that while AOR had its diehard fans, it was not a moneymaker.  A number of stations reverted back to a rock format, or were sold and completely changed formats.  Those who stayed were often extremely localized, such as Turners Falls’ WRSI 95.3FM (sold in 1996 and moving to Northampton at 93.9) and Peterborough NH’s WMDK 92.1FM, and placed in small but artistic-minded communities.  They may have been small, but they had the upper hand–they were run by music fans who knew their stock in trade, and knew how to sell it locally.

These two local stations never really sold themselves as “AOR” but more as “progressive radio”.  This term may have confused some, considering the word ‘progressive’ often went hand in hand with ‘rock’, and together ‘progressive rock’ often meant twenty-minute hyperbolic workouts from bands like Yes, early Genesis, and ELP.  But by the 80s, ‘progressive radio’ actually meant something different–it was almost a taunt, a term that said ‘we’re better than you–we play music for smart people’, and in its own way it was true.  The passive radio listener just wants background noise, but the active radio listener wants something that will stimulate the brain.  And it just so happened that post-punk sounds coming out of the UK and the collegiate sounds emerging in the US fit the bill at that point in time.  If there were no college radio stations nearby, or none with the wattage strength to reach long distances (especially over hilly central Massachusetts), these progressive stations would offer up the most radio-friendly of it.

And for a good couple of years, probably from around 1984 or 1985 up to 1988, these stations could get away with playing the not-quite-commercial rock.  These bands weren’t being played anywhere else except on college and progressive radio stations.
While college radio was much more open-minded and adventurous in its available playlist, it had its own shortcomings as well.  Part of the whole alternative music scene in parts of the US was its exclusiveness–it was music for the nerds and the geeks and the people on the fringes of society who didn’t belong in the popular cliques.  Morrissey may have sung and the music that they constantly play / it says nothing to me about my life / hang the blessed DJ in response to a UK radio personality who tastelessly followed up coverage of the Chernobyl disaster with Wham!’s “I’m Your Man”, but in the US it took on a slightly different meaning.  For those of us here in the States, it was simply a rebellion against the tired, creatively vacant mainstream.

But what was mainstream, anyway? Especially in the last few years of the decade when more ‘modern rock’ songs were showing up on the Top 40 charts? What was there to rebel against when the keys to our rebellion were now becoming mainstream?  By the early 90s, many college radio stations were refusing to play anything by the Cure or Morrissey or Depeche Mode or REM, simply because they were being played on commercial radio.  They would need to start looking elsewhere for their alternative fix.

On the other hand, progressive radio could still get away with it.  Perhaps it was that, as professional stations, they had to constantly keep an eye on shifting tastes.  Progressive radio is where I first started hearing Britpop, back in 1989 with Happy Mondays and the Stone Roses, well before a lot of other stations played it.  They also kept an eye on other subgenres of rock that fit into their playlist, like the folk rock sound of Tracy Chapman, Tanita Tikaram and Indigo Girls, the blues rock of Jeff Healey, or the new funk of Lenny Kravitz.  They were able to balance the commercial with the alternative, and that kept their stations alive much longer.  It also kept the alternative sound in the spotlight, making way for newer “adult alternative rock” stations such as WXRV (The River) 92.5FM in Haverhill.  It also helped usher in more “new alternative” sounds–bands that may lean towards the mainstream, but are decidedly not intellectually vacant pop.

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Over two decades later, I’ve been noticing a slow but significant return to departmentalizing the different genres of rock on FM radio.  It’s partly due to the advent of the internet, and it’s also due, as it always has been, to the shifting tastes of its listeners.  For a brief time in the 90s, alternative rock became so polarizing that on the one hand we had all-commercial rock radio on one end and very anti-commercial rock radio on the other.  Now, however, we’re starting to see specific subgenres again, and they’re being played on both college radio and on indie rock stations, sometimes within the same hour.  We’ll hear the bizarro tUnE-yArDs alongside the catchy pop of Capital Cities alongside the folk rock anthems of Frank Turner.  Listeners can access the sounds not just on FM radio but on satellite stations, online-only stations, streaming sites and even playing their mp3 library set to “random”.  But thanks to these same things, we can set our listening preferences so we’re only listening to weird left-field rock or synthpop or folk rock.  We’re not just bound to the FM dial anymore, but we can bound ourselves to just how wide or how narrow we want our music to be.  Radio may continually shift in its never-ending search for new sounds and higher earnings, but as always, it comes around and settles in new and more interesting ways for us to listen.