Pink Floyd "Time"

It's hard to imagine a radio station like mvyradio, an internet radio station, in the pre-internet age. But I was there.

I was laughing to myself the other day, as our engineer/IT guy was talking me through a process I didn't understand, that would correct a problem I didn't understand that was happening to a machine I didn't understand.

I was laughing, because I was remembering my first year at mvyradio, when we had to fight over the dial-up.

Our phone system had 4 incoming lines, and if someone wanted to get on the internet, you'd need to use one of those lines to connect, via a dial-up modem. So no one could call you on that line. And if someone else needed the internet in another part of the building, well, you'd just have to sign off so they could sign on.

Now when I sit in front of the microphone, I usually have at least 3 computers within arm's length.

When I started at mvyradio, it was 2000, and we were forward, but not advanced.

Our webmaster had started this tradition of posting song lyrics on the website, and when he left the station for another adventure, it became my job to do the "Lyric Of The Day."

Back then, if you were trying to come up with a lyric, you'd listen to the station for a bit, and when you heard something, you'd type it in. Back in those days, we still played a little Pink Floyd, and I got a kick out of a phrase in the lyrics to "Time."

"Digging away, the moments that make up a dog day."

I just loved the idea of a dog, digging fruitless holes as a way to pass a hot day. What a brilliant metaphor!

Much to my chagrin, I got an email from a Floyd fan, who informed me that the lyric I posted wasn't right at all. The line really goes:

"Ticking away, the moments that make up a dull day."

How did I get this wrong? Why didn't I just look up the lyrics?

Because 10 years ago, the correct lyrics to every single song were NOT YET POSTED ON THE INTERNET!!!

I know it's hard to imagine. I mean, right now you can probably think of a song. Any song. The first song that comes to mind, and if you Googled that song title plus the word "lyrics," you'd be able to find the lyrics, no problem.

But yes, there was a time when you couldn't find the lyrics to any old song on the internet.

Now, however, not only can you find the lyrics, you can find the whole song (something you'd be hard pressed to find, legally, in 2000), in a video, with the lyrics printed on the screen.

Viva La Future!


See the video on Youtube.

Taylor Swift "Love Story"

This week, guest blogger Lori Bargeron writes about 5 Celebrity encounters where she works, at Bobbie's Dairy Dip in Nashville, Tennessee.

Do you find it hard to take pop idols seriously? What if they're country crossovers? Is it even more difficult then? I call it "The Shania Twain Problem." It's like a flash in the pan-- you don't know how to categorize them, or how long their success will continue.

What I don't like about Taylor Swift's success is that some people (some of my friends, even) are so quick to dismiss it. She sings songs that are catchy, that girls the world over latch onto, identifying with her love-torn heroine character. And isn't that the goal of pop music? To create something that your audience can relate to, something that makes them feel at home for 3 minutes & 20 seconds. "Taylor gets it, Taylor gets ME," is what her audience thinks, and it's true. Taylor does get it. She's a pop idol with staying power. And all the while a gracious and classy young woman.

Taylor Swift has sold millions of records and won countless awards, and she is still amazed when she receives such acclaim. It is a dream come true for her, and she continues to be humble about it.

Not to mention that when Nashville flooded earlier in May of this year, Taylor donated half a million dollars during a local TV station's flood relief telethon-- the most by any one person or corporation. And that's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Taylor's philanthropic efforts. In 2007, she helped launch a Tennessee government-sanctioned campaign to protect minors from online sexual predators. She has donated to the Australian Red Cross for relief efforts made during the 2009 Victorian bushfires, and given money to the BBC's annual "Children in Need" telethon which distributes donations to various children's organizations all across the UK. Now, that's a superstar with good in her heart. So, it bothers me when people make fun of her "surprised to win a Grammy" face. And it bothers me when I hear people dismiss her as just another candy-coated tool of record label mass consumption tyranny.

Here's Taylor singing her "signature" song, "Love Story." It's like a diary entry. Taylor has been quoted as saying that her goal is to never write a song that her fans can't relate to. You should take her seriously...I definitely do (even though she does enjoy rainbow sprinkles).

Emmylou Harris "Not Enough"

This week, guest blogger Lori Bargeron writes about 5 Celebrity encounters where she works, at Bobbie's Dairy Dip in Nashville, Tennessee.

How can I say I live in Nashville and not be a fan of Emmylou Harris? She’s as uniquely Music City as the Dip is. I know, I know. It's just, folk music has never been my thing. But I do have a particular fondness for Emmylou as a person-- "my thing" or not, her talent really is beyond words. And there's no denying that she puts countless efforts into bettering the community. She is a blessed woman who radiates kindness.

Activism is a large part of her life as she annually organizes a benefit tour called Concerts for a Landmine Free World, which benefits Veterans of the Vietnam War. She took part in an anti-death penalty concert called Journey of Hope, and also featured Jackson Browne and Steve Earle, among others. And of course, Emmylou rode in the feminist wagon touring with the Lilith Fair several times.

But I think what impresses me most is housed in Emmylou's own backyard. Her love for animals inspired her to turn part of her property into a shelter for homeless or unwanted dogs, a shelter she has dubbed Bonaparte's Retreat (named for her late poodle mix, Bonaparte, who was her constant touring companion). Emmylou takes in some of the dogs the Nashville Humane Association just doesn't have room for, and with the help of a network of foster volunteers, homes are found for the animals.

I myself adopted a dog from the Humane Association, and I whole-heartedly support any organization that will keep animals from shelters that will euthanize them if not adopted.

"Not Enough" is a song Emmylou wrote in tribute to her beloved pal Bonaparte. With lyrics so heartbreaking and personal, you could be led to think Emmylou is singing about a lost friend, a loved one---a human nonetheless. I'm with you, Emmy. My pets are amazing, and I love them more than I can describe. Ever so often I hug my dog and cat, telling them, "Ok, here's how it is. Y'all can't ever die." It’s this kind of shared love for something that gives you a sense of connection with celebrities; the kind of thing that helps you realize just how normal they actually are.

"I still have your memory.
One or two pictures of you and me.
Life is long and life is tough,
But when you love someone,
Life is not long enough."

Tonic "If You Could Only See"

This week, guest blogger Lori Bargeron writes about 5 Celebrity encounters where she works, at Bobbie's Dairy Dip in Nashville, Tennessee.

I have a habit of screaming "Hits of the '90s!" whenever I hear, well, a hit of the '90s. My excitement erupts when I hear a song that takes me back to the era which culminated my love for music -- the era which birthed musical styles my heart hungers for today. It's probably the biggest thing my husband and I have in common, an acute appreciation for the culture of the decade. In fact, we wouldn't have even met if wasn't for a '90s band called Self.

My story today centers around Emerson Hart, hunky lead singer of the band Tonic. Emerson had been coming to the Dip on quite a regular basis with no one recognizing him as anything more than a mere Nashville studio musician. You see, you can spot those guys from a mile away with their perfectly sculpted bed heads, western shirts, and Beatle boots. He'd come by every other day and order the same thing: a chocolate ice cream cone covered in chocolate sprinkles with an extra cup of sprinkles on the side for dipping. And when we asked his name (to call him when his cone was ready), he'd grin and answer, "Just say 'Mr. Sprinkles'". One day, noticing his actual name on his credit card, and having the knowledge that he just looked like a musician, we decided to investigate. Lo and behold, there he was staring at us through Google search! The next time we saw him, we were giddy -- not only because he is one of our nicest, most favorite customers, he reminds us of a time when we actually enjoyed turning on pop rock radio.

So here's to Mr. Sprinkles, and to nostalgia.

Martina McBride - "(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden"

This week, guest blogger Lori Bargeron writes about 5 Celebrity encounters where she works, at Bobbie's Dairy Dip in Nashville, Tennessee.

Throughout the tabloid age, we have nosed ourselves into the lives of celebrities making their business our business in a way that could be innocent or could be creepy depending on your own perspective. But none of that is more apparent than now, when information is so readily available through the likes of the Internet Movie DataBase or Wikipedia -- dare I neglect to mention the "straight from the horse's mouth" appeal of Twitter or Facebook.

Not only have we taken an interest in our favorite stars, we have "friended" them -- giving us the ultimate in transference of emotion. We can actually communicate with them beyond the realm of any fan club. Not only are they a part of our daily lives, ohmygosh! We could be a part of their lives!

So here's where it's weird for me. I work in a job where I get to see many children grow up. Year after year, families come for ice cream all summer long, and I witness the all after-effects of a winter of babies learning to walk or boys' voices cracking or girls starting to wear make-up. I feel special to be a part of their lives, to be a spectator in their maturation. I feel like I know them, that I've experienced their special moments along with them.

The first time I saw country singer Martina McBride at the Dairy Dip, she was pregnant. That had to have been 3 or 4 years ago. The next time I saw her, she had had an adorable baby. The time after that, toddlers-ville. When telling the "a celebrity came to my restaurant" story, I always remark on how impressed I am with how lovely and well-mannered her children are or how charmingly goofy her husband is. Every time, I feel like I gain more and more of a sense of knowing them. It makes me feel special.

So I guess, what I'm posing is, why do we care so much with celebrities do normal things like eat hamburgers or have children who grow up? Why do I feel so lucky to witness the McBride children's growth into young adulthood? Are they any different than my favorite students at the Catholic school two blocks away?

Martina sings some songs about growing older, but what I want to share with you today is a cut from her record "Timeless," on which she sings all classic country hits. It fits right in to our aesthetic at Bobbie's, where we play songs of all genres, but only from the 1950s-60s (and some ‘70s when we feel like it).

Ben Folds - "Rockin' The Suburbs"

This week, guest blogger Lori Bargeron writes about 5 Celebrity encounters where she works, at Bobbie's Dairy Dip in Nashville, Tennessee.

The Holy Grail of any Nashville music celebrity sighting is, of course, the mighty Jack White. While I haven't been fortunate enough to run into this elusive figure, we at the Dip did enjoy the patronage of his fellow Raconteur Brendan Benson. It's really too bad that story isn't colorful enough to write about.

However, I will talk about the time I met Nashville's other celebrity Holy Grail (if there were such a thing). In the wintertime, Bobbie's is closed, so I was working in a coffee shop my big boss also owns. At the time, my husband (then fiance) lived in South Carolina, and I only got to see him every so often. On this particular day, the door to the cafe opened, and I greeted the person who walked in with my usual smile and "hello," momentarily gasping, "Holy cow! Andrew's come here to surprise me!" I started to run around the counter to give him a big ol' welcome smooch. But as the man said "hello" back, immediately my smile fell. I thought to myself, "Oh. That's not Andrew. That's just Ben Folds."

Whenever I hear this song, my husband’s favorite, I will forever think of that day when I was actually disappointed to meet one of our songwriting heroes.

(By the way, it’s not like Andrew looks especially like Mr. Folds. I think it was mostly the glasses style and boyishness they share that fooled me. Andrew’s much taller.)

Preservation Hall Jazz Band "Between The Devil & The Deep Blue Sea"

Five behind-the-scenes scenes at Newport Folk.

Interactions with artists are inevitably awkward. Here are three quick vignettes from Newport Folk, to illustrate.

I was looking forward to meeting Glen Hansard. As mentioned, I'd seen The Swell Season last fall, and was really effected by the experience.

Though I had to be over at the NPR Music/WFUV tent to do the Horsefeathers bit, I did have about a 1 minute window, where I wanted to get a hello in there.

His road manager introduced us, I shook his hand, and launched into a semi-rehearsed speech:

"I saw you last fall and it really, really moved me. Such a great live show. I really appreciate what you're doing and I'm really looking forward to seeing you play today."

While it was not me at my most eloquent, I said what I wanted to say, without being too over the top. What I didn't imagine in my rehearsals, is what would happen next.

Err. Not much.

"Thank you. Thank you very much." He said. He asked me when and where I had seen the show. "Oh yeah," he said, "It was really cold that day."

Awkward pause.

I said goodbye and headed off, thinking, well, what was he supposed to say next?

-------------

When you are a musician, you sometimes get swept up in whatever scene you've been plopped down in.

Jason Spooner was playing in Newport on Folk Festival weekend, and came over to the Fort, after his gig. He's a super-sweet guy, and is very grateful and gracious to the folks who support him. mvyradio has started playing his new record, so he made a point to come say Hello and Thanks.

It just so happened that during his visit, we got permission from the Fort Adams staff to go up on the roof of the Fort. Normally, it's locked off to the public, but Joe had made arrangements for a Fort staffer to take the mvy crew up. So we pulled Jason along.

The view proved to be so beautiful, that someone suggested that this was where we should take a staff photo. Jason tried to politely decline being in the picture---pointing out he wasn't really a member of the staff. But he was pulled in anyway, caught up in a scene he'd been plopped down in. (Jason is on the right)

-------------

Awkwardness goes both ways.

There were loads of people behind the stage watching Levon Helm. They cleared us all out of that space, to make room for Levon's getaway vehicle. Most people were herded around to the side of the stage, but I needed access to the mvy tent, so I walked through the tunnel, back into the Fort.

From that vantage point, you could still see the stage, and hear the music, and there were a handful of folks who had taken up that position.

One of them was Ben Jaffe, tuba-ist and leader of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.

I shook his hand and said, "Great set today. Really great. And I love the record. Congratulations."

He smiled and said Thanks.

Remembering my Glen Hansard moment, I left it at that, with no further expectations.

"It's a really exciting time," he said.

"Is it?" I replied, not knowing if he was continuing the conversation, or just making a statement.

"Yeah, a lot of mmfmfmmfffmm" at which point Levon's Ramble got louder and I couldn't quite make out what Ben said.

So I just kinda looked at him and nodded and smiled (I'm sure, blankly).

And the conversation stopped.

In retrospect, I think he was excited to talk about the record, and how the band had been received, and how things were going, but his audience of one, while willing, was not able.

And I wonder if Ben walked away from that moment thinking, "I said 'It's an exciting time,' what did I expect the guy to say back?"

(Probably not.)

John Prine “Angel From Montgomery” Pt. 2

Five behind-the-scenes scenes at Newport Folk.

And a memory can build upon itself, over and over.

Last week I wrote about “Angel From Montgomery” and the memories inside of memories it holds.

And seeing John Prine this weekend, that story just continued to telescope out.

I was running around in our backstage area, uploading pictures, checking audio, on the phone with the station---just doing what I do, when I heard Prine start this song.

I didn’t want to miss it, but I didn’t have time to go all the way around to the front of the stage and watch the show. So I made a little beeline from our setup, in the interior courtyard of the Fort, to a room inside the Fort, that overlooks the stage from behind.

Literally, you can see John Prine’s back, 50 feet away. Over his shoulder is the crowd of thousands, and behind them, Newport Harbor and The Bridge.

“The best seat in the house,” said Barbara, who had materialized beside me.

She’d been doing her thing, and had the same notion, at the same time, as I.

Barbara commented on how great it sounded, this slowed down version of Prine’s tune. It really got to the heart of the song.

A nice shared moment with BD.

Later that night, we were back at Joe’s house. Saturday night at the festival, we have a late barbecue (after packing up for the day, it’s usually after 10pm before we get to dinner) and we rehash the day.

Musician Ryan Montbleau, who dates Jess, was with us for dinner, and of course we goaded him into bringing his guitar out.

After a few songs, he passed the guitar off to Barbara, and yes, the crowd insisted that she sing “Angel From Montgomery.”

Barbara tried to deflect the request, saying that there was no way she could do the song, after hearing Prine’s perfect version earlier that day. It just wouldn’t be right.

But the crowd would not be denied.

And yes, Barbara did an amazing version of the song. Some friends of friends were in the small group, and at the end of the night Barbara got big hugs from these former strangers, for her beautiful effort.

So now the song reminds me of Barbara singing solo on Ryan’s guitar which reminds me of watching Prine through a window in the Fort, which reminds me of Barbara singing with Kate Taylor’s Band, which reminds me of singing with friends in a farmhouse 15 years ago.

Stream the full Prine concert, or download it from our archives.

Sam Bush "Uncle Pen"

Five behind-the-scenes scenes at Newport Folk.

Give credit to the generous gentleman and the complete jackass.

I had just gotten back to the mvyradio command center, inside Fort Adams’ wall, still turning over in my head what had happened.

Joe had been listening through headphones.

“You’re introduction was fantastic!” he said.

Jess turned around, “What’d he said?!”

I cut Joe off before he could continue any undeserved praise, and told them what had really happened.

A day or so before the festival, we, along with the other radio partners (WFUV, NPR Music, WERS, Folk Alley and apparently, this year, the Ice Cream Man) get our stage assignments from the festival producers. Each of us is given a few opportunities to get up on stage before an act, talk about our station, and then bring out the band.

On the one hand, it’s terrifying and intimidating to be up there, facing a crowd of hundreds, or thousands. On the other hand it’s thrilling when you nail it.

I drew Sam Bush, and his Saturday afternoon set on the Harbor Stage. I had the advantage of having seen the man before, knowing his music, and having time to prepare.

But as a stood at the bottom of the steps to the stage, waiting for a cue from the stage manager, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Here’s what you should say about Sam Bush . . .”

Now normally, when someone I don’t know tells me how to do my job, especially when the advice is unsolicited, I maybe slightly raise an eyebrow, nod politely, and then do whatever the hell I want to do.

But he wasn’t even finished with that sentence before I dropped my defense, and listened up.

This was Bob Jones.

Mr. Jones has been part of the Newport Folk Festival since before Dylan went electric. He was out on the road, coordinating tours for Duke Ellington and Thelonious Monk. He’s also been a part of the New Orleans Heritage And Jazz Festival since its inception.

Leaning on his walker, telling me what to say, you’re damn right I was going to say it.

But first, I had to do my mvyradio bit.

I got the cue and toddled out to a lone microphone at the corner of the stage.

“Good afternoon everybody. Welcome to the Newport Folk Festival. My name’s PJ Finn, I’m from mvyradio.” A smattering of light applause.

I continue with my mvyradio schtick: “We’re recording all these performances. I know you can’t be 3 places at once. If there is another performance you want to see when you go home tonight, mvyradio.com, you’ll be able to download performances from across the festival . . .”

When from out of nowhere, a guy, only a few rows deep shouted:

“MVY SUCKS!!!”

He was ducking down, but I could see him, with a big fucking shit eating grin on his face. He was a total asshole, just doing it for kicks.

I was totally derailed.

But the weird thing is, the adrenaline kicked in and my introduction soared.

I just thought of what Bob Jones told me. My voice rose:

“HOW ABOUT ENOUGH OF THE TALKING. I’VE SEEN THIS GUY A WHOLE BUNCH OF TIMES BEFORE. HE IS AMAZING. HE NEVER FAILS TO KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF. 36 YEARS AGO, THE FATHER OF BLUEGRASS WAS HERE, BILL MONROE. PLEASE WELCOME THE FATHER OF NEWGRASS, IT’S MR. SAM BUSH!!!”

As I hustled off the stage and down the steps, I lightly touched Mr. Jones’ shoulder, and said, “Thank you, sir,” before heading back to the mvyradio command center, listening to Sam and the band kick into a cover of Bill Monroe's "Uncle Pen."

Had it not been for the jerk, I don’t know that my adrenaline would have risen like it did. And I don’t know if I would have decided to go with Bob Jones’ idea for the introduction.

So when Joe told me my introduction was great, I had to give credit to both the generous gentleman and the complete jackass.


You can hear my introduction before the complete Sam Bush set. Listen carefully, just before I say “Thank You, Sir.” That’s when I get the “mvy sucks” razz.

Andrew Bird “Skin Is My”

Five behind-the-scenes scenes at Newport Folk.


One of the cool things about this year’s festival, was the crossovers.

From Calexico joining Andrew Bird during his set, to Levon Helm doing “The Weight” with Glen Hansard and Richie Havens, to half the performers from the weekend getting up with Ben Sollee and Daniel Moore, there were lots of on-stage crossovers.

And there was some DJ crossover, too.

For the last few years, NPR Music and WFUV have covered the festival, and we have had a helpful exchange of resources with them.

Because we’re “the locals” and are familiar with the in and outs of both Newport and the Fort, we’re on the scene early, getting the place wired up for the internet. Joe, our station owner, builds out a network for the weekend, that mvyradio uses to broadcast on our station, and NPR Music and WFUV use to carry the content they want to carry.

Meanwhile, the NPR Music and WFUV folks bring enough staff to set up recording stations at each of the three stages, and share those final recordings with us, which is what you hear if you check out our website today.

Mutually beneficial.

The NPR Music and WFUV live coverage is a little different than the mvyradio coverage, in that they have 2 hosts live on the scene at all times. And they have other staff member act as reporters, who will come in and introduce record segments.

In the spirit of collaboration, they have invited mvyradio personalities to make reporter contributions, a couple of times throughout the weekend. A gesture of generous spirit.

I had it in my mind that Barbara was going to be that reporter. She’s really the voice of our station, our best emissary.

But on Saturday morning, she looked at her schedule and realized that at the time she was supposed to be on with NPR Music and WFUV, she was also supposed to be on stage introducing John Prine.

So the task became mine.

No matter what line of work you are in, if you suddenly have to do your job with a group of professionals that you are not familiar with and aren’t familiar with you, the pressure is on to . . . well . . . not suck.

So I made sure I watched the band I was supposed to be speaking about, O’ Death, for a good chunk of their set. And believe me, it’s not as easy as it sounds when you’re working with the mvyradio crew. The four songs I watch live, was the longest I was in one place for the entire weekend.

I showed up appropriately early at the NPR Music/WFUV tent, with some notes in hand, and was seated across from Bob Boilen, host of All Songs Considered, and Claudia Marshall, morning host on WFUV. Veterans and pros, for sure.

Again, I’ve been on the air for thousands of hours over the course of my nearly 20 year broadcasting career, but now I had 90 seconds to show to my industry cohorts, that all those hours weren’t by accident.

And I feel like I rocked it.

For 90 seconds I was in the groove, delivering the salient points about the band and the set, in a casual manner, interacting with Claudia and Bob (who had also seen the set) and winding my 90 second spiel in such a way that Bob was able to lead naturally right into the recorded audio.

When we were clear and were pulling off the headphones, Claudia said, “That was . . . perfect,” giving me a big smile. It doesn’t get better than that.

And unfortunately, sometimes it gets worse.

The next day, Barbara had her time on with Bob, once in the early part of the day, and was scheduled to join him again late in the day. But then Glen Hansard’s manager showed up to offer an interview at exactly the same time.

So I was on again. But this time, I was not so prepared. The band I was supposed to be talking about, Horsefeathers, had already played, so I couldn’t catch them live. And the record bit that I had to listen to, didn’t tell me much. Giving it a quick listen before running over to do my break, gave me only a sliver of insight. I made a couple of spare notes, and hoped for the best.

This time, I was on with Bob, and with Rita Houston, music director for WFUV, another very respected talent in this business.

I won’t be so hyper-critical of myself and say that I completely sucked, but like a car not fueled up before a long trip, I sputtered out pretty damn quickly. With nowhere to go but for Bob to awkwardly transition from my trailing off voice, he said, “Well, let’s listen to Horsefeathers . . .”

I still got a generous smile and a “good job” from Rita, but I knew that I hadn’t killed it.

Is that what it’s like, when Levon asks you to sing on “I Shall Be Released” but you miss a lyric? Is this how you feel when you jump up on stage with Preservation Hall, and you hit a bum note during your solo?

Sam Bush “Bringing In The Georgia Mail“

Five behind-the-scenes scenes at Newport Folk.

I thought it would be fun to take a peek back at the weekend, and let you in on a few stories from mvyradio’s On The Road adventures in Newport.

I’m sure you have some kind of vision of what we do when we go to these festivals. You can pictures staff wearing headphones, huddled over soundboards and laptops. You might have come to a festival, and met staffers at an mvyradio table or tent.

But there are lots of little jobs that we have, that you may never have conceived.

Like the Staff Stalker.

If you’ve ever been a part of an mvy auction, you might have bid on an autographed cd or poster or something. How did it get autographed?

Well, when we’re in a place like Newport Folk, where there are dozens of bands, and we’re backstage, we assign a staff member to the Staff Stalker job, hand them a sharpie, and tell them to get as many autographs as possible. So you might have a cd that says "To mvyradio, thanks for everything, Bob Weir," or something.

Unfortunately, due to cutbacks, we weren’t able to bring a Staff Stalker this year. Curse this economy!

In fact, we were lean and mean with our on-site staff. We combined a few jobs, so several of us, were doing several things at once. And somehow, the sharpie ended up in my hands at one point.

Gary, our marketing man, had found this beautiful book of photographs, featuring amazing black and white portraits of John Prine and Doc Watson and Steve Earle and more. Including Sam Bush.

And I was headed over to the Sam Bush stage, so I was assigned the stalking.

But, multiple job man that I am, I had another direction to run in, so I handed the job off to Julie, who was in charge of our t-shirt tent.

But, Julie, multiple job woman that she is, had another direction to run, too. So she handed the book off to Craig.

Craig wasn’t even working for mvy. He’s was on the air with us, years ago, was at the festival as a civilian, and I thought it was okay to ask him to help.

Unfortunately, all this chaos leads to some bad communication.

Craig didn’t understand that the book was for mvyradio. He thought the book was for Julie.

So during the next mvyradio auction, be on the lookout for a nice, signed picture of Sam Bush that says, “To Julie, Thanks Sister, Love Sam.”

Hear Sam Bush's set recorded at Newport Folk 2010. It's also available for free download in the mvyradio archives.

Steve Martin “King Tut”

Five songs I’m looking forward to hearing again, in Newport.

I had already established that my parents didn’t know everything. But who knew that it went so much deeper than that.

Previously, I had realized that my parents didn’t know everything there is to know about everything. And I had come to terms with that. I mean, the amount of information their two brains could hold was finite. I could forgive them for that.

But my head was really turned around when I learned that not only did they not know everything, there were things that they didn’t know, that other people knew.

It was around 3rd Grade that I started making friends that weren’t just based on who my neighbors were or who my parents’ friend's kids were. I was making friends with kids in school, who’s parents were (gasp!) different than mine.

And not just different. Younger.

I mean, my parents weren’t physically older than the parents of kids I knew, but certainly some of those parents had a much younger sensibility than my parents.

So it was a whole new world.

I can remember romping around this big, old, drafty, wooden, Colonial house where my best 3rd Grade buddy lived. They had twisty weird staircases, and a dumbwaiter, and a carriage barn. And a shaggy dog.

We didn’t have a dog. Too hairy.

And his parents seemed funnier. Or, funny in a way that my folks weren’t anyway. And certainly much cooler.

His Dad had records. Current records.

My Dad had records, but they were mostly from a decade earlier. I don’t know if I ever heard my Dad say, “I’m going to the record store.”

I can remember crashing up one of those uncarpeted back-stairs, headed to a room that my friend’s Dad was painting. And on the way up, I could hear talking. But it was big echoey talking, with an audience.

The Dad was painting this room, and had a record player there, with Steve Martin’s “Wild & Crazy Guy” on while he painted.

The pop culture stream had trickled down far enough that a third-grader like me knew the phrase “Excuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssssse Meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!” But that’s all I knew about Martin, really.

We didn’t have comedy records at home. So the whole idea of putting talking on a music player machine was enough to blow my mind.

And what he said, captivated me.

Why? I’m not sure. Because here in 2010, I can tell you with no uncertainty, that I had no idea what Martin meant when he said, about his girlfriend, “If she is like a cat, I have kitty litter. If she is like a dog, we do it on the paper.”

Definitely no idea what that meant. But I thought it was hilarious.

We listened to that record on my next visit, and the next and the next, until I could recite whole parts of Martin’s routine, whether I understood it or not.

But the coup de grace of the record was something I could wrap my head around: a song.

For all of the wildness and the craziness of the rest of the record, the simple, catchy rhymes of “King Tut” were what resonated with me.

It was the bridge between the Beatles songs and Broadway tunes I could get at home, and the slightly dangerous, out of control comedy shared by these people who weren’t my parents, yet seemed to know so much.

(ed. note: I don't really expect him to play this tonight . . .)

John Prine “Angel From Montgomery”

Five songs I’m looking forward to hearing again, in Newport.

Every year mvyradio heads down to Newport, to cover the Folk Festival. And every year has its share of anticipated performances. I thought I’d write this week about 5 songs I think I’ll hear in Newport, and what I’ll be thinking of as I hear them.

Today’s post is like one of those Russian nesting dolls---a memory inside a memory inside a memory.

In the years just prior to my time at mvyradio, I lived in Virginia, working at a station down there. I had a great group of friends---young, active music lovers.

And when we weren’t working, we were doing some combination of drinking, listening to music and singing. On a good night, all three.

There are probably hundreds of specific moments in those late, loud nights, to reflect back on. But if the director of the film of my life needed just one representative scene from that period, it would be the group, usually the girls in the group, singing “Angel From Montgomery.”

Years later, I’m on the Vineyard, working with another great group of friends, who also love listening to music and singing. And yes, raising a drink or two.

I knew that Barbara Dacey had really only had two jobs---working for mvyradio, and being a singer-songwriter. Yet somehow, even after knowing her for several years, I’d never heard her sing.

How pissed was I, the one year I left the Chili Contest early, only to hear later, that Barbara had gotten on stage with Johnny Hoy? I rode her about this for years.

Jump to 2008, and here we are again, drinking and listening to music, and preparing to sing. It’s the Newport Folk after-party, that we have at a private household, near Fort Adams. Kate Taylor is going to perform, and she’s invited Barbara to join her on stage.

Well, stage is a little bit of an overstatement.

When we come from the Vineyard to Newport, we stay at the home of the station owner, who has a house, and next to it, a large pool house, with several guest rooms. There is a large, living room/foyer where Kate and her band set up. And there’s a balcony overlooking that area, outside the 2nd floor rooms.

That was where I was standing, when Barbara took the stage. I’d gone up there, because I knew she was going to sing, and I wanted to call my wife so she could listen by cell. I wanted to be out of the first floor crowd, where I wouldn’t be noticed.

“I’m going to do a John Prine song,” announced Barbara. “This one is for PJ, because I know it’s one of his favorites. Where’s PJ?”

Fortunately, the lights in the room were low, and the crowd, which had all turned their eyes to me, alone on the balcony, couldn’t see the five shades of red I’d turned.

So when John Prine pulls this chestnut out on Sunday, I’ll think back to the balcony, to Barbara, to the Chili Contest, and to young, late, loud nights when my friends all sang for “one thing that I can hold on to.”

Bob Seger "Downtown Train"

On Monday, I was writing about artists putting songs "On Hold," and was saying that it was an term I was not familiar with it.

Turns out, neither was Bob Seger.

In 1989, Seger supposedly had just completed the recording sessions for his new album, at the end of a decade that saw him achieve higher commercial success that ever before.

The story goes that he ran into acquaintance Rod Stewart. He told Stewart about this great Tom Waits cover he had just recorded.

Flash forward a couple of months later, Stewart has gone into the studio, recorded his own version of Waits' "Downtown Train," and gets it released before Seger's version.

It remains is one of the biggest commercial hits of Stewart's career, and even earned him a Grammy Nomination.

Seger, on the other hand, was reportedly PISSED. He pulled the planned album release and went into the studio, motivated to record something that would REALLY knock Rod's socks off. It took him until 1991 to get his next album out, and by that time, Nirvana had hit, and suddenly there was no room for Classic Rockers on Grunge radio.

His version of "Downtown Train" remains unreleased.

But lots of people have recorded it. Here are clips of Waits' original, Rod's remake, and covers from Mary Chapin Carpenter, Everything But The Girl and Patty Smyth.



The Rod Stewart, Pop-Up Video Version, with Seger story


Rarely seen Tom Waits video

Ellis Paul "World Ain't Slowing Down"

I heard an industry term I'd never run across, when I saw Ellis Paul this winter.

I've been in broadcasting for close to 20 years at this point, but every day I am reminded that (whatever your expertise is) there is always something you don't know.

As an introduction to his tune "World Ain't Slowing Down," Ellis mentioned that "this song is 'On Hold' for Tim McGraw."

I'd never heard the expression "On Hold" but I know what it means.

If you are a songwriter, shopping around your track to Big Name artists, and a Big Name artist is seriously considering recording a particular song, they will ask that you put it "On Hold," meaning that you should no longer shop the song around, so the Big Name artist can be the first to have a Big Hit with your song. It's "On Hold" until they decided to record and release it; a limbo state.

And if you listen to this song, yeah, I can hear Tim McGraw turning this into a Big Hit. And if THAT were to happen, well, Ellis' next album probably wouldn't have to be Fan Funded. I could be Royalty Check Funded.

Ellis has a Fan Funded record out called "The Day After Everything Changed," and mvyradio is giving it away as a Monday Free CD today. Listen to the station for your chance to win.

Hear "World Ain't Slowing Down" and clips from Ellis' new record:

Girlyman “Easy Bake Ovens”

All Time Top Five Songs that shouldn’t make me cry, but do . . .

This song is just so vivid to me. I can’t believe how it captures an era---of American life, and of my life, too.

The period specific stuff resonates, of course. The sneakers thrown over telephone wires. Bikes racing around cul-de-sacs. Model airplanes and paper crowns from Burger King. And, Nixon and Watergate, not fully understood, hanging over everything.

The mood, I think, is what gets me. There’s this weird, youthful alienation in this song, that I recall vividly, when the neighborhood seemed like a gigantic world, and I was so young and small within it.

I lived on a street where there weren’t really any kids my age, everyone was a little bit older. Or a lot older. And I just rode my bike around, an observer of the teenagers, and the older kids with cars, and the parents who seemed so inscrutable. I was on the outside looking in at this world.

And it’s all weirdly sad, and yet nostalgic for me, tapping into something I’d forgotten about, as I grew up, found out how big the world really was, and can look at teenagers for all they don’t know, instead of all they seemed to know.


And if you’re not touched in the same way, then here IS a reason to be sad and nostalgic: Ronald Howes, inventor of the Easy Bake Oven, passed away this month.

One more thing, Girlyman performs at the Narrows Center this weekend. Stream it live on Saturday night, or find it in the archives next week.





From time to time on Every Day I Write The Blog, I do a week’s worth of my five favorite songs on theme. For the All Time Top Five rules, see this previous post.

Joni Mitchell “If”

All Time Top Five Songs that shouldn’t make me cry, but do . . .

Though she’s one of the greatest songwriters alive, Joni Mitchell used someone else’s words for this song---the 1896 poem by Rudyard Kipling.

In light of yesterday’s post about crying while thinking of my daughter growing to womanhood, you might think that this song makes me cry because it makes me think of my son (who’ll be born in 6 weeks) growing up to be a man.

But no, the fatherhood angle isn’t what makes me shed a tear.

No, it's the Simpson's use of "If" that does it to me, believe it or not.

In the early episode called “Old Money,” Grandpa Simpson meets woman named Bea in his nursing home. They have just begun a romance, when Bea suddenly passes away, leaving her fortune to Grandpa. Grandpa spends the episode trying to figure out how he should spend the money. A good chunk of the episode is about the indignity of growing old, as Grampa is treated like burden by his son, his grandkids and the nursing home staff.

Wanting to do something that will honor Bea’s memory, Grandpa takes the money to a casino, to try to increase his pot so he can help as many people as possible. And when Homer tries to stop him, Grandpa recites an abbreviated version of the Kipling poem:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch - and toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

The episode ends with Grandpa using his money to improve his nursing home, inviting his senior friends inside with the line, “C’mon in Friends, Dignity is on me.”

Gets me every time.



The speech starts at 20:25

Find more videos like this on video.filestube.com.

From time to time on Every Day I Write The Blog, I do a week’s worth of my five favorite songs on theme. For the All Time Top Five rules, see this previous post.

Joss Stone “Free Me”

All Time Top Five Songs that shouldn’t make me cry, but do . . .

I’m not going to pretend like I’m profound by telling you that your perspective is likely to change, if you give it enough time. But I’ll give you an example.

First, I wrote about this song a few months ago, when it was new, and I was questioning whether it belonged on mvyradio or not. We DID end up putting it into rotation, and four months later, I feel like it’s a really great addition to our station.

The second perspective change came after I had heard the song enough times to sing along with it, but not so many times that I had yet processed them.

I knew that this song was a message to her record company, who had been pushing her to record more pop hits, while she was more interested in exploring Soul music. It’s your basic “Don’t tell me what to do” song, the kind that lots and lots of folks have written. I’ve heard them before.

But I’M different now.

So when I found myself singing:

Something that you don’t see every day
A little girl who found her way
Through a world that's designed to break
All of your dreams

I saw my daughter in my mind. And I thought about what prejudice she’ll face as she grows, confronts challenges, and tries to make her way in the World. I know there will be people who will try to limit her because she’s a girl. And I’m doing all that I can, as her Dad, to make sure she grows up to be someone who wouldn’t listen to those voices.

Had I heard this song 10 years ago, there would’ve have been no way to experience the paternal pride that swells when I think of her and hear the line:

If I lose you in my jet stream
Then you only got to raise your eyes
And see me fly

What parent doesn’t get a little misty, thinking about their kid soaring?






From time to time on Every Day I Write The Blog, I do a week’s worth of my five favorite songs on theme. For the All Time Top Five rules, see this previous post.

Reverend Horton Heat “Psychobilly Freakout”

All Time Top Five Songs that shouldn’t make me cry, but do . . .

I can’t say that this song makes me cry every time I hear it. But it did make me cry on one very memorable occasion.

I had gone to The Warped Tour on a hot, late-90s summer day. The ticket said it was being held at RFK stadium, but what they meant was, the concert was in the parking lot outside the stadium. There were a half-dozen stages featuring various levels of punk and punk-offshoot acts, running all day long.

I was already a big fan of The Reverend Horton Heat, but this was the first time seeing them live.

As I expected, the show started off fast, and funny, and tight, and up to my high expectations.

Then they launched into “Psychobilly Freakout,” which is basically a rockabilly instrumental which builds to a crescendo, punctuated by the Rev screaming “It’s A Psychobilly Freakout!” followed by a machine-gun drum-fill and a relaunch into the song.

After a few go-rounds of this, The Reverend starts “preaching,” telling a story of a woman, and his temptation by her. The drums and the bass dig into a groove, rising and falling with his tale.

The story gets faster, more urgent, as the Reverend describes his base urges over-coming him, as his ability to resist becomes weaker, and the woman reveals herself to be the devil incarnate and when the Reverend tries to cast the demon out of his trailer she suddenly grows 50 feet taller, demanding that the Reverend succumb to his passion and as the music builds to a fever pitch and the breaking point of the story has almost been reached the music stops abruptly and the Reverend screams:

“It’s A Psychobilly FREAKOUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!”

The drums thunder, the amps roar and I swear to you that I gasped and burst into tears, in that spontaneous way one might if you suddenly someone you thought was long-dead walked through your front door with an armload of Christmas presents for you.

I didn’t sob for hours or anything.

But I had become so sucked in by the storytelling, that when he screamed and brought the song back, it caught me so joyfully off-guard, I don’t think my emotional brain knew what to do.

So I cried.

Seems kind of silly if you listen to the album cut. But see him live, and you may just have a visceral experience.



Hear the whole song:


From time to time on Every Day I Write The Blog, I do a week’s worth of my five favorite songs on theme. For the All Time Top Five rules, see this previous post.

Rancid “Golden Gate Fields”

All Time Top Five Songs that shouldn’t make me cry, but do . . .

Punk rock lives on velocity and ferocity. Which is what makes it cool.

But unfortunately, those to traits sometimes obscure the fact that there are punks, who are also poets and keen observers.

Take this album-closing track from Rancid’s 2000 self-titled disc. There’s no way that this song could make you cry on the first listen. And maybe not even on the 50th listen.

And it probably wouldn’t make me cry, if I didn’t sit down one day with the liner notes and really learn the lyrics.

Golden Gate Fields is a horse-racing track in the San Francisco Bay Area. Tim Armstrong of the band grew up across the freeway from the park.

The first couple of verses gallop by with all the urgency and adrenaline of the horse race they describe. And it digs in for me, as the jargon of The Track reminds me of my Dad, who, yeah, has affection for the horses. There’s a culture, a specific scene, that this song recalls vividly for me.

But it’s the third verse that gets under my skin.

The first two are a recollection of Tim’s younger days, when he frequented the track as a kid. The third verse comes to present day. And this isn’t a scene or a story told in the third person. This is Tim, who has come back to the old neighborhood, where he runs into his old friend Big L. He and Big L used to go to the track together, but in between years, their lives have gone in separate directions. Tim leads a successful band and has toured the world. Big L never left the neighborhood.:

I see Big L rollin' up the street
On his little sister's pink ten-speed.
He said "Tim, Tim, don't you remember me?"
"Way back, from 1973?"
And every time I see him
He has to remind me,
Like I would ever forget Big L.

There is such a gulf between the people who leave and the people who stay. I’ve lived this scene with people from my past. They see that you’ve gone off and had success, been places and done things, and something in the insecurity of that makes them wonder, If Tim’s life is so different now, does he remember that we used to be friends? It's touching, and sad, in its innocence.





From time to time on Every Day I Write The Blog, I do a week’s worth of my five favorite songs on theme. For the All Time Top Five rules, see this previous post.