John Hiatt "Wood Chipper"

Every other week, my Father-In-Law comes over for dinner.

It's always a good food night, because we have a meal.  He's a great cook, and even something as simple as a meatball dinner prepared by him is a delicacy.  Or if he doesn't cook, then my wife---who learned a kitchen-thing or two from him---makes something great.  Food is one of the languages that they can speak to each other.

Whatever we end up eating, you can count in there being some red wine.  And sometimes there's pie.

Dinner is inevitably followed by some lounging in the living room, in front of the TV.

I can't say that I care about "America's Got Talent" or "The Voice" or "American Idol," but it's something that they can watch when they are together, follow when they are apart, and talk about when they are on the phone.  It's a language they can speak.

Even though I suppose I wouldn't choose to watch these shows, I am game to participate.  I can weather the bad singing, the manufactured drama, the endless commercials and product placement, and the general hokey-ness of reality/competition TV. 

But I can't stand one, ridiculous cliche.

"Man, you could sing the phone book!"

That phrase should be barred from "American Idol" and the like.  Just stop saying it. 

No, they couldn't sing the phone book and have it sound good.  It would sound stupid, even if Pavarotti did it.

Or so I used to think.

Check out this John Hiatt song that Barbara Dacey pointed out to me.

It's a story song about a woman who has disappeared.  Perhaps falling victim to foul play and a Wood Chipper.  All that was found of her was a note that the narrator once wrote, and on the back was a grocery list.

That's a great little detail, and it would be enough to complete the story.

But Hiatt, instead, sings the grocery list.

"Eggs . . . Hamburger Meat . . . Bread . . . Funyons . . ."

He got me with the "Funyons."  It's both hilarious and effective.

One of America's premiere songwriters just sang the word "Funyons," and its the highlight of the song, and maybe the album.

So I don't know, John Hiatt, maybe next record you could try the phone book!


Hear the song on Youtube.

Social Distortion "Bad Luck"

I was hungry.  I was nervous.  I was alone.

I was waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

I've told you the story of my first radio station, and the long court battle that we waged to hang onto it.

What you don't get from one blog post, was the drawn out uncertainty of it all.

I was at WABN for 6 years.  And every three months (if not more often) for six long years, we'd have another court date.

"This could be it," we'd be told by our lawyers.  There was every possibility that the judge would take immediate and harsh action, either shutting down the station or removing us completely.

The family that owned the station would go to these hearings.  Dress up.  Look respectable and responsible.  Do their best to convey the sincerity of their desire to just run the radio station and live in peace.

It was my job to hold down the fort.

The four family members would go to court, and I would go to the station and wait.

I might do my shift.  Or I might let the automation system we had, spin its wheels.

Minutes ticked by slowly.  Hours progressed at a glacial pace.

Every time the phone would ring, I'd lunge for it, hoping it was the gang calling from their way home from court with some kind of good news.

Lunch would pass.  The many cups of coffee would sink in.  Tension would mount.

Eventually, I would get a call.  A brief overview of what had happened.  And a promise of lunch to be brought to me soon.

Relief, tempered by the notion that the court session ended with the promise of a reconvening within a just a few weeks.  And that we'd do this day all over again.

The night before each court date, I'd play "Bad Luck."  It was my idea that if I played "Bad Luck" today, it would mean good luck tomorrow.

Mostly, it worked.

I was thinking of this song earlier in the week, because I'm playing the waiting game right now.

We still don't know when our last day on 92.7 will be.  The signal is all but sold, just some paperwork has to be signed.  And then we'll be off.

Unlike the WABN situation, there is a future for WMVY.  We'll continue on the web.  I'll continue to work.  Stress about what is going to happen doesn't play a role here (just the "when").

Just waiting . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.

Sallie Ford "Party Kids"

One year, (former mvyradio News Director and current weekend DJ) Megan Ward thought she'd be funny, and go as ME for Halloween.

She got a brown-hair wig and put on what I call "The Uniform," which consists of converse sneakers, jeans, unbuttoned flannel shirt over a t-shirt.  Or you can substitute a hoodie for the flannel.

Megan doesn't look especially like me, so only the folks who got "The Uniform" joke, figured out the costume.

Next year, Megan, I've got a better idea.

Hopefully, by fall, Sallie Ford &; The Sound Outside will have broken through, and folks may know who she is.

Check out these pictures of Sallie, and of Megan.  Maybe it's just the glasses, but I think Megan could pull this costume off!

Sallie Ford

Megan Ward

Hear the song on Youtube.

Big Star "Thank You Friends"

When I was a kid, I worked at an ice cream stand.

People loved it.  For many, coming to get an ice cream was a highlight of the day.  Coming to OUR ice cream stand, was a part of their summer experience.  To this day, I'm sure that people who lived or summered in the Newburyport area have warm memories of Haley's Ice Cream.

Compliments at Haley's were easy to come by.  You weren't selling life insurance or bath fixtures.  When you gave them what they had ordered, there was a light in their eyes, and a grateful thank you on their lips.  They might even tell you that they love the ice cream you make.

But that was nothing.

It's been a pretty amazing two months, and so much of it has gone by so fast that it was hard to take in, process and respond to, as it was happening.

Two months ago, mvyradio told its listeners we needed $600,000 to survive.  And the listeners responded.

Now, I didn't have a lot of doubt that we could raise that much money.  I knew people loved our station and were willing to donate $25 or $100 or more, to keep it alive.

But I just can't get over the number of messages that we got from people who didn't just say, "I love your station," or "I want to support you," but went on to tell very personal stories about how much a part of their lives the station had become.

People wrote us about collectively listening to "Alice's Restaurant" as a family, singing while all on the phone together because the family was apart of Thanksgiving.

More than a few folks told us of hitting mental health low points, but being able to turn to the station, hearing a song that lifted them up, or even picking up the phone and having a DJ who wanted to talk to them.

We heard from an ICU nurse who would bring a radio to a patient if the unit was having a particularly loud or chaotic night.  The music was a distraction and a comfort.

And I got a very personal letter from a woman who had discovered the station via her husband and listening became something they shared.  Even years after his death, she would hear a song on MVY and think "That's a tune he would have loved."  She needed the station, because the music was her way of staying connected to her love. "Don't die," she wrote.

We got donations from 3800 listeners.

And among those, we got donations from many musicians.  Not necessarily big names.  But folks we have supported.  Local and regional.

We got donations from Record Label people, Radio promotions people, and even DJs from other stations.  They recognize that MVY is unique, valuable and worth saving.

And, special in our hearts, were the donations we got from our own families.  The Moms and Dads and Brothers and Sisters of the station staff pitched in too, and it was great to see a familiar last name (Dacey, Redington, Phaneuf, Hammond and many more) land in the donation box.

Saturday was the mvyradio Big Chili Contest, and that's where the hugging began.  People we've known from around, or people we've never met before in our lives, gave us hugs, told us that they love us and congratulated us.

It was much more love than I ever got serving ice cream.

The song in my head (and there's always a song in my head) was this Big Star tune.  I'll put the lyrics below, because it really speaks to our story and success.  I love that he sings about things being "so probable."

Thank you, Friends.  Personally, and professionally.

You saved mvyradio.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Thank you, friends
Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you
I'm so grateful for all the things you helped me do

All the ladies and gentlemen
Who made this all so probable

Thank you, friends
I rejoice to the skies
Dear ones like you do the best I do
As far as can see my eyes

Without my friends I got chaos
I'm off in a bead of light
Without my friends I'd be swept up high by the wind

All the ladies and gentlemen (I said all)
Who made this all so probable

Thank you friends (thank you, again)
Dear, dear friends (thank you, again)
And again, and again
Never too late to start

Reverend Horton Heat "Sue Jack Daniels"

Let me start with Homer Simpson's famous quote about alcohol:

"The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems."

With the success of the Save mvyradio campaign, and the Big Chili Contest madness (on a full moon night, no less), uh, yeah, we're dealing with more of the former than the latter.

We'd be litigious, in the Finn household, if it didn't make our heads pound to just try and spell the word "litigious."


Hear the song on Youtube.

Reverend Horton Heat "I'm Drunk"

We hit our goal for Save mvyradio yesterday, and today is the mvyradio Big Chili Contest.

I think you know what's next . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.

Barry Manilow "Looks Like We Made It"

$600,000!!!  We Saved mvyradio!  Thank you for your support.

In this celebratory moment, I'm not averse to belting out a little Barry Manilow!


Hear the song on Youtube.

Beyonce "The Star Spangled Banner"

First, let me say that I don't really care if Beyonce was lip-syncing.

I understand why, in a situation like a live Inauguration, outdoors, with many, many variables, you might pre-record your vocals, to make sure the performance is not torpedoed by something.

Now I DO find it bothersome if an artist has pre-recorded their vocals, and the vocals have been altered/improved/sweetened.  But if the track was recorded earlier, then, in this kind of performance, who cares?

It kinda bugs me that people would make a big deal of this.  Like it or not, when the visual performance matters, there is usually lip-syncing.  Artists in TV appearances like The Superbowl, major concerts where the star is expected to dance complex routines, mediocre-but-attractive teen heartthrobs---they all lip-sync.  You might as well be surprised that the McRib does not come from some kind of magical boneless pig.

People who don't like President Obama get fired up that he uses a teleprompter.  Really?  The guy gives hundreds, if not thousands of speeches a year, and you think he's carrying that around in his head?  You don't even go to the grocery store without a list.

What's most annoying about this Beyonce "scandal" is that it is being reported mostly by people who don't know shit about what they are talking about.  Which, sadly, is how much of the day's news---even the important stuff---gets reported.

Why not listen to an expert?  My friend Jesse Barnett posted this link to Slate, where singer Mike Doughty (former of Soul Coughing) explains why its clear to him that Beyonce was definitely NOT lip-syncing.

Finally, a talking head who knows what he's talking about.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Rolling Stones "Bitch"

I remember standing outside the dorm building, looking up at McNamara Hall, trying to find out where the music was coming from.

It was cold, but I was happier to be standing alone in the cold, than headed upstairs toward confrontation.

I was an R.A. at UMass Amherst, 1989, and it was my night on duty.

R.A.s were there to answer questions, help folks out, intervene when necessary and keep the peace.  Mostly, I just told my residents "Don't smoke dope in the hallway, and I won't hassle you."

But some students just had to be confrontational.

What other reason could there be for the level of noise that was coming from somewhere in the 8 story building?  There was no possible way that someone was actually IN the room where the music was.  It was insufferably loud.

The other R.A. on duty and I were in the 1st floor office, when we got complaints.  She was a take-charge type, and was ready to march up the stairs and find the source.

I headed out into the courtyard, to see if I could pinpoint it from that vantage.

It was early evening, and most all the rooms on that side of the building had lights on.  Except one.  And notably, that room's window was open.

Yes, very sneaky, Idiots.  No one will be able to figure out it's you playing the stereo at 11, if the lights are off.

Pretty much on schedule, the music stopped.  The light came on.

This happened in just about the amount of time it would have taken my partner to walk up to the 5th floor, knock on the door, and tell these geniuses to turn the music the fuck down.

I stood there for a second, waiting to see if I could hear anything, or see any shadows or action.

Pretty much on schedule, the music came back on.

This happened in just about the amount of time it would have taken my partner to yell at the residents for a few minutes, tell them they were going to get written up, and leave.  Likely, she was about halfway down the hall away from the room, when I saw a stereo speaker hoisted into the window.

The volume went straight up to FULL, and across the courtyard and echoing against the surrounding buildings was "Bitch" by the Rolling Stones.

As offensive as it was, I had to give them some kind of credit for not being afraid of inevitable confrontation and penalty.

The song lasted for a good 30 seconds.  No doubt my partner had wheeled right around and double-timed it back to the room.

I had to give her credit too, for not being afraid to going charging into the face of the most truculent opposition.

The music stopped.  I waited out the in cold.  Nothing else happened.

Both parties had satisfied their level of confrontation.

And I, ever one to avoid a tangle, waited outside a few minutes more, just in case . . .



Hear the song on Youtube.

R.E.M. "Losing My Religion"

"YOU BETTER NOT BE POOPING ON THE UNICORN!!!"

This is the kind of sentence that:

A) You never expected to hear yourself say.

B) Your childless friends will never understand how this is part of your existence.

C) You should never, ever have to actually say out loud.

D) All of the above.

It is now nearly 1am.  Officially, Monday has become Tuesday.  And I am just sitting down to write this post.

I don't know if it was the holiday, or some stir-craziness, or a pre-cursor to getting sick, but the kids were just insane tonight.

Not bad.  Just reeeevvvvvvvvved up.  There were performances.  Costume changes.  Lots of yelling.  And hammering.

And yes, the 2 1/2 year old boy, who is potty training, took off all his clothes, but instead of making his way to the potty, he sat down, naked, on his sister's oversized stuffed pink Unicorn.

(No, he did not poop on the unicorn.  We did get him to do the right thing)

After a Skype visit with their Grandparents (my folks spend winter in Florida), despite the high energy, we moved the kids to the bedroom, hoping to wind them down.

Sometimes the high energy is really a sign that they are over-tired, and if you can get them to sit still, they sack right out.

9:30pm.  We have finally gotten to lights out.  Neither kid is asleep.  But if we can just get them to relax . . .

10:30pm.  My 5 year old daughter is asleep.  So is my wife.  But the boy is lying there, in the dark, just talking, talking, talking.  He's wiggling and kicking.  So I tell him to get up and come out to the living room with me.

11:30pm.  He's still motoring around.  I haven't cleaned up after dinner, or checked my email, or thought about a blog post.  I ask him if he wants to come sit with me.  He says, "Nope," and keeps on playing with his puzzle.

But I have a secret weapon.

"C'mon up here," I say, and scoop him up off the floor.  He protests, but his squirming eases when I put on the TV and say, "Let's watch Charlie Rose."

Some highlights of the Presidential Inauguration flicker on the screen, ("Dad!  A parade!") and he settles into my arms.

Five minutes later, he is asleep.

After cleaning up---I love taco night, but it does create an assload of dishes---updating the Save mvyradio Pledge-O-Meter and brushing my teeth, I'm finally here at the computer.

With nothing prepared.

Soooo, let's make this a "I Looked At The Internet Today So You Don't Have To" feature.

My friends Jess Phaneuf and Lindsay Reid both posted this video.  Someone with some time and some good music software edited R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion."  The very Minor Chord heavy song, has had the Minors changed to Majors.  It sounds completely different, yet surprisingly the same.

That's all I got.  G'night.


Hear the song on Vimeo.