Monday, November 30, 2009

Before the Cock Crows


Everywhere a sign. Many people heed signs; others don’t.

If your personality profile says that you are intuitive, you probably look for signs and ponder a deeper meaning. But if you perceive only with your senses, you might not be so inclined to interpret signs.

In the oral tradition there are many signs. My family passed down a few to me. Pawpaw George said, “Red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors’ warning.” His wife had a favorite saying that conveys an itchy nose is a predictor someone with a hole in their underwear is about to knock on your door.

In medical school I learned of signs, not to be confused with symptoms, the patient’s complaints. Signs are those things a doctor can observe, like yellow eyes, flushed cheeks, or labored breathing. There’s Battle’s sign, the sign of Leser-Trelat, and even Sister Mary Joseph’s sign, which should delight those of you who would like to know more about Mayo Clinic history.

Songwriters like to talk about signs. Everywhere a sign. I saw the sign. I am waiting for a sign.

We all, at times, look for signs: a sign that it’s over, a sign that it’s love, a sign that you’ve gone too far.

It occurs to me that some signs foretell and others just loudly announce what has already happened.

If you’re reading, send up a smoke signal and let me know you’re here. What signs do you heed? Are there any signs that were taught to you in the oral tradition that you intend to pass along to the next generation?

I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones/That I started looking for a warning sign.
-“Warning Sign” Coldplay

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Who's Singing on Your Radio?


If my mother didn’t make the Beatles magically appear in the studio at WKLO by turning a knob in her light green Impala sedan, then maybe I would not have grown up thinking music is magic. Disclaimer: This was not a case of a mom duping kid. My mom never said, “When we turn on the radio a band plays live in the studio on Broadway.” She didn’t have to. I just knew they did. And it made me happy to know they were there with me in my town.

Since no one in my home played an instrument, music first cast its spell on me via radio towers.

Important radio stations—let’s start with WLRS in Louisville. Album rock appealed to me because I had a fairly large collection of albums from the RCA club, and as I sat on my four-poster bed, doing my high school homework at night, I could look out my window at the skyline of downtown Louisville, all aglow with light, and ponder songs like “Dark Side of the Moon.”

More than a decade later, toward the end of my first year in Houston, I discovered KPFT. The owner of the Mucky Duck sat me at a table for a Toni Price show next to a KPFT DJ, Phil Edwards. He talked up the channel to me that night, and paid for my drink, saying, “If you have any extra money laying around the house, just send it into the station.” Of course, the funniest thing is that my drink magically disappeared because Phil forgot it was mine and drank it himself! I tuned into KPFT for the rest of my years in Houston, and discovered the likes of Dan Zanes and Darden Smith, thanks to DJ’s who knew what they were spinning.

After I met my husband I noticed he tuned to a certain radio station as soon as the radio towers became visible on the 290 drive into Austin from Houston. It was KGSR.

KGSR streams daily on the computer in my office. Part of the fun of it is just seeing what will be playing, like now, Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up.” Earlier when I started the blog, Talking Heads were in the studio (not really, but you know KGSR is the place it’s most likely to happen) playing “Life in Wartime.” More importantly though, I may just hear a song by someone I’ve seen live in a small venue, like Alejandro Escovedo.

Radio magic continues tonight when an acquaintance of mine, Ian McLagan, chats with the host of a show on WCOM in Carrboro, NC.

Feel free to share your magic radio stations on the blog.

"But I heard you singing on the radio/your chariot was swinging way down low."
-Walter Tragert, “Singing on the Radio”