Beavis & Butthead with Cher "I Got You Babe"

March 28th, 1994:

This cassette has been packed away for year, but I pulled it out, because it contains my debut as a radio DJ, 20 years ago today.

I've written plenty about how I ended up with a job in radio, and told a few stories about being a DJ on a Pop Station.

This first gig, at WABN in Abingdon, Virginia, was as the host of a nightly, call in Request Radio show.  And I've written about at before, here and here.

And I've even written about my very first time on the air.

But here it is.  Warts and all.  On a cassette.  (And in a stream, below)

All things considered, it's not too bad.  The mishap that happened off air is not heard on this tape.  And I very consciously was careful to say as little as possible on my first day, exercising great caution so as not of make a fool of myself.

I recall that after this first shift, Rita, one of the station owners taught me a very important lesson.

She drew on a piece of paper.  "What's this letter?"

"Dubya?"

"You pronounce it 'Double U.'  Not 'Dubya' or "Double-ya.'  The letter is two U's."

So on this tape, you can hear the one and only day that I went on the air and pronounced the "W" in "WABN" as "Dubya."  I have strictly adhered to Rita's correction for following 19 years and 364 days.

To this day, if I hear another DJ on the radio say "Dubya-MVY" it makes me crazy. 

I'm grateful to her, and her husband Craig, for the early guidance and shepherding.  I honestly had no idea that a little detour into a part-time radio gig would result in a 20-years-and-going career.

And certainly nothing on this tape would suggest a bright future.

So, if you can bear it, it's all here.  My first hour on the radio ever.  It's an hour of requests and dedications on a Pop radio station, with Dionne Warwick and Ace Of Base (and surprisingly, some Grateful Dead!), and yes, the hit of 1994-ish, Beavis & Butthead with Cher.

Enjoy.

Click here to open a stream of my radio station debut, 20 years ago.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Dionne Warwick "That's What Friends Are For"

So I’d gotten a job on the radio.  Now what?

Like a dog that finally caught the car he was chasing, I suddenly terrified by the idea that I was going to be on the air.

Just days earlier, I had been interviewed by the owners of WABN about their open position---as host of the nightly “Request Radio” program.  For two hours each evening, the phone lines were open, and literally, if you asked for it and we had it, we’d play it.

Whitney Houston?  Yes.

Followed by Ozzy Osbourne?  Yes.

“That’s What Friends Are For”?  Yes.

Into Rage Against The Machine.  Yes.

If we had it, we played. 

And we would read a dedication for every song.  Anything you wanted us to say.

Want to ask someone out?  We’d say it.

Want to break up with someone on the radio?  We’d say it for you.

Inside joke between your friends?  We’ll announce it.

Want to tell the world that you are lonely?  We’ll say it.

This is in the days before Facebook, so any bit of minutiae that you felt compelled to share with the world, we’d share it via Request Radio.

Like many of the kids listening to the show, I had spent many a night in my room, imagining I was the DJ.

But reality was hitting.  I was about to go on the air for the first time.  There was no practice airshift.  No warm-up.  No air-check critique.  I sat in the studio with Craig, one of the station owners, who had been temporarily hosting the show.  I watched him for an hour, and then he said, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, you’re ready.  Sit here.”

He was repeating the simple instructions---flip this slider to turn on the microphone, say the name of the station and the name of the last song, say the name of the next song, and gently press “play” on the CD player---but I wasn’t listening.

I had glazed over.

I was giving myself a mental pep talk.  I had been nervous before.  I played sports.  I had been terrified to walk out on a basketball court in front on my entire school and face an intimidating opposing team.  But I also had learned how to set that fear aside, turn it inside out and create the energy and intensity necessary to not only overcome my fear but perform at the top of my game.

I was focused.  I was ready.

The song ended.  I flipped on the microphone.  I followed the instructions.

I said the name of the last song.  I said the name of the next song.  I pressed “play” on the CD player.

The last instruction I did not follow to the letter.  I did not press it “gently.”

Instead, with a burst of adrenaline, I pressed the “play” button so hard that my finger was now inside the machine all the way up past my fingernail.

The good news was that the CD was playing.  The bad news was that it was one of only two CD players in the studio.  Crippling it was going to make it hard to do the rest of the show.

But professional radio folks are nothing if not calm in the face of live mishaps.  Once the next song was underway on the 2nd CD player, Craig got a screwdriver and managed to pry out the button that had become lodged inside the machine.

He set the player right, gave me back the air chair and said:

“Okay, let’s try it again.  Gently.”

And thus, a career began . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.

Dionne Warwick "Deja Vu"

I went to my High School reunion last week.

I was great to see some folks I don't often get to see.  And see some folks I haven't seen in 2-plus decades.

I did kind of have it in my mind that seeing some of these people would jog a few memories, that would lead to a few good blog posts.

Surprisingly, despite the full night of 80s music on the P.A., I really didn't find any fodder for stories---until the end of the night.

As I was walking out the door, I passed a guy I hadn't seen or talked to, probably since graduation.  And hilariously, today's song is the first thing I thought of.

I've written before about being the oldest kid in my family, about not having an older brother to introduce me to certain things like music.

Other things that friends with older brothers had access too,  included profanity, and secret knowledge.

Secret knowledge is that stuff they don't teach you about in school, and your parent don't talk to you about.  You just pick it up on the playground.

In middle school, I learned, via friends with older brothers, what a hermaphrodite is.  And the definition of "twat."  Things like that.

Some things you learn from your friends older brothers are absolutely correct.  Other things, not so much.

I remember being in Middle School, at the lunch table, and for no reason one of the kids at the table (the guy at the beginning of this story) had been humming this song.  Then he turned to me and said:

"Do you know what Deja Vu means?  It's French for 'Shit On A Brick.'"

He had learned this from his older brother.

We all marveled at the cleverness of Dionne Warwick, and how she had this hit song that folks were singing along to, when they were really saying, in a foreign language, "Shit On A Brick."

Several years later, when my folks had transferred me to a Catholic School, and I actually took French classes, I realized that our information was inaccurate.

I'd totally forgotten this story, but seeing my old classmate brought the memory right back.  "Deja vu" all over again.


Hear the song on Youtube.