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All through the summer, it's been a test of will to keep my enthusiasm kindled and my interest focused on the radio show. Waiting until the last minute to bag CDs & LPs, without even a glimmer of an theme is a sure way to allow the fire to smother. Because that's the way I do it. Either some song or a mind-sticking hook will open the door to a direction that the music will take for two hours... and sometimes last for weeks. This is not corporate playlist radio This is do-it-yourself. And what you bring into the studio is what's going to come out through the speakers... and radiate out into space with the other terrestrial white noise. Seeing the Hipnotix last weekend reminded me of why I've chosen to continue presenting reggae for the past ten years. The power of the music... the message... the balance of a light-footed rhythm with a booming background, brass sections that simultaneously suck the breath from you and force it back, and words that mean something... I never hear that on the top forty. Nor does it resonate with thug-life, gold-covered, Benz and Bimmer propelled dancehall. Nor with dreader-than-thou Marley-style-stealing white boys. It's back to basics. Soul Power. Real instruments. Sounds that take you there. Which must have made it's point, with the comments that I received around town, afterwards. By accident... as I shuffled around town, wasting time while Miss Jane constantly cell-phoned her daughter who stood us up for dinner (it would have been the first time I'd seen her since she dumped her family for the Big ShackUp and sheepish return. No matter). Big bass sound pumping from the back of delivery trucks. In the record store. The restaurant. God, it's nice when folks get it. And I've got the determination to push the buttons. A nice result... being gifted with the best Bloody Mary I've ever tasted at the bar. Shredded celery and horseradish... like salsa in a glass... with intent. Yes, it's still worth it. Tomorrow, I've been invited to see the UVa game... the kind of football where they can use their hands (not my first choice). Usually, I'd avoid it like the Anthrax. Might be worth a chuckle as people-watching. Something tells me the music might suck. |
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