Category: Nonsense

A Scary Goblin

Watch Out for the Goblin!

WXNA FM

A story of a stolen salad, a cursed Corolla and eventual redemption

Trudy called out from the back seat, “Turn the station!”

“The what?” her Mom, Dyann, said.

“The station. Turn the station. I wanna listen to something awesome. Something like WXNA!” said Trudy.

Dyann reached over to the console to turn the dial in hope of pleasing her daughter — anything to please her daughter — but when her fingers approached the dial there was nothing there to turn.

“That’s funny,” said Dyann. “Where did the dial go?”

“Mom! The station! I want to listen to WXNA!” Trudy wailed.

“I know, dear, but, um…the dial,” said Dyann.

“WXNA!” said Trudy.

Dyann looked down. The dial was missing. And also the radio. She didn’t understand what was happening. After all, something was playing. Some sort of music, or music-like substance filled the car. It was a bit oppressive. Certainly not free-wheeling. Definitely not freeform. It wasn’t the warm embrace of a dear friend that WXNA had so often provided. Instead it had the feel of a rusting robot, of automation.

“Why won’t you just change the channel?” shouted Trudy. “Whose idea was it to listen to this anyway?”

“I…I don’t know, dear,” said Dyann. “We typically listen to WXNA. Not this. Whatever this is. What…what is this anyway? It sounds like The Eagles, but also like Staind, and maybe Scott Joplin? It’s very odd. Frankly, I don’t like it.”

“Just turn the station, pleeeeeeeease! PLEASE!” said Trudy.

Dyann reached back to the console, keeping her eyes on the road. She was adamantly opposed to distracted driving. Her hands moved across the faux wood-grain wondering if maybe, perhaps, she had somehow misplaced the radio. Maybe it was where the A/C was supposed to go. Perhaps some young troublemakers had gotten into the car when she was parked at the salad shop and had moved around all of the gizmos. It had happened before, and was certain to happen again. But the radio was not where the A/C was. It wasn’t next to the nav system. It wasn’t in the glove box, or in a cup holder. The radio was gone. Not “missing” but gone, like it never existed. It was as if they were driving the E trimline instead of the midrange “LE” which they had definitely purchased 14 years prior when the car was brand new and still had that smell about it.

“Mom! The radio! C’mon, this is the worst day of my life!” said Trudy.

“It’s not the worst day of your life. Don’t be so dramatic,” said Dyann. But Dyann was not so sure herself. Is it possible the radio truly vanished, or maybe never even existed? Was this was the worst day of her life? Was she supposed to pretend like it was never there — that this was a radioless car? But where was that sound coming from? It was like a mix between “The Pina Colada Song” and The Muffs and, maybe, Beethoven. Something wasn’t right, so she pulled over to the shoulder. Cars whizzed past.

“I just want to listen to anything else besides this. Anything!” Trudy said.

“What if I sing you a song?” said Dyann.

“No! It’s has to be WXNA!” said Trudy.

“But I thought you said — ”

“It HAS to be WXNA, OK Mom? OK?”

Safely parked on the shoulder, Dyann was finally able to inspect her center console — to finally figure out where the radio went. The results were inconclusive. In fact, more was missing than just the radio. The front passenger seat was no longer there, for starters. Dyann was pretty sure the seat was in the car when she had gotten in, but to be fair, it wasn’t really something she paid particularly close attention to. For the most part the seat never really left the car, which is why its absence — in addition to the radio, and the odd music that seemed to be coming from nowhere — was all the more unsettling. Dyann turned to Trudy.

“Trudy, why didn’t you tell me the front seat was missing?”

“I thought you knew. I thought you took it out?”

“And the radio?” said Dyann.

“I just want to listen to WXNA. It’s my favorite station. I mean, just this morning I voted them Best Radio Station in Nashville in the Nashville Scene’s yearly Best of Nashville Readers Poll.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say? Readers Poll?” asked Dyann.

“Yeah, the Best of Nashville Readers Poll.” said Trudy, looking at the pained look on her mother’s face.

Dyann turned around, put her head on the steering wheel and looked at the floor. “It was that damn goblin,” she said.

“What?” said Trudy.

“The goblin. At the time I thought nothing of it, but it has to be the goblin.”

“A goblin? What even is a goblin?” said Trudy.

“Y’know, a goblin. Little green guy. Big ears. Pointy fingers — runs around with a satchel of gold,” said Dyann.

“You mean a leprechaun?” said Trudy.

“Trudy. I’m a fifty-year-old woman. I know the difference between a goblin and a leprechaun.”

“Well, what is the diff—“

Dyann interrupted, “I was at that salad place, eating a salad. I had my laptop. I was actually on the Nashville Scene’s website voting in their Reader’s Poll. And that’s when he approached me — the goblin. He told me to vote for WXNA for Best Radio Station, or he would cast a spell on my Corolla and cause the radio and front-passenger seat to disappear. Then he stole my salad before I was done with it and ran out the door. I was so angry, I deliberately abstained from voting in the entire category. Welp, he must have done it. He made my radio and my front-passenger seat completely disappear.”

“Mom, that’s…that’s…a goblin?”

“Yup, it was a goblin. A goblin that cursed my Corolla for not voting for WXNA for Best Radio Station.” Dyann said.

“I think there’s only one thing to do,” said Trudy.

“Oh, what’s that?” said Dyann.

“You have to go back to that salad place and steal your salad back from the goblin and demand that he uncurse this Corolla.”

“What if I just went and voted for WXNA for Best Radio Station in the Nashville Scene’s yearly Best of Nashville Readers Poll?” said Dyann.

“But will that break the curse,” said Trudy.

“Does it matter?” said Dyann. “I just want to support that great station.”

“Excellent point, Mom.”

“Here, let’s get out and roll this car into a ravine,” said Dyann.

“You bet, Mom!”

Dyann and Trudy got out of the car, put it in neutral and safely pushed the car into a ravine, ridding themselves of the goblin’s curse. The strange sound of The Turtles mixed with Seven Mary Three and the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat faded as it rolled into the ravine. Then the two hitchhiked back to that salad place where Dyann fixed her voting for the Nashville Scene’s yearly Best of Nashville Readers Poll.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Don’t let the goblin get you! Vote now at BestOfNashville2019.com.)

* * * * *

Voting is now open for the Nashville Scene’s Best Of Nashville Readers Poll. Help us threepeat as Nashville’s Best Radio Station!

You can vote at BestOfNashville2019.com. Best Radio Station is under the Media & Politics section. You must vote in 25 categories for your ballot to count. You may leave your ballot and return again, but you must have it completed before Sept. 5. There is no “submit” button—once you click “vote” in each category, your vote is counted.

 

Rick Pecoraro
WXNA Contributor

Shut Up and Play the Hiss: An Oral History of “The Magnetic Media Hour”

WXNA FM

In the storied (fake) history of free-form radio across these United States, one show left arguably the biggest impression of them all.  “The Magnetic Media Hour” was one of the first shows to push the medium in new and interesting directions. Hosted by J. D. Warkel, “The Magnetic Media Hour” was an avant-garde hour of the most unique recordings on the planet. Interestingly, those recordings also happened to be some of the most common. This is the story of how that show came to be, thrived and ultimately faded away, told by the people who where there.

J. D. Warkel, host: I remember the first first thing I played. It was a TDK-60. Found it in a box of old coins at an estate sale in Tupolo. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything quite like it.

Allison Silverslaw, station manager, KOQK: J.D. was a pioneer. When he came to us and said he only wanted to play blank audio cassettes over the air, I initially called security and had him thrown out of the building. But he was persistent. After his third attempt, he threw a brick through my office window with a Maxell-120 tied to it and a note that read, “Just listen!” I’m glad that I did — he was right. The sound was incredible. Three months later, after he was released from county lock-up, I gave him a show.

Tim Gurt, warehouse manager, Electronics Bazaar: He was absolutely a regular. Always asking what kind of shipments were were getting in each week. And then every Friday he’d be at the front doors before the store opened. I’d meet him in the atrium and take him to the back room and we’d break down pallets together. In exchange for getting first dibs on all of the new cassettes, he would also help me stock the ink cartridges.

J.D. Warkel: When most people see a blank tape — at lease back in those days — they would see it as a way for them to record “other” music — songs off of the radio, their own LPs so they could listen to them in the car, mixes for that special someone in their life. But those people were all rubes and criminals. They didn’t realize what was being lost. The purity of the hiss, that’s what I was evangelizing.

Tammy T. Plop, listener KOQK: I was driving around one Saturday night testing out parking spaces — y’know, too wide, too narrow, is it angled? — anyway, I had the radio tuned to KOQK — I had my knob snap off a few weekends before, lost it in a parking lot (great lot, by the way, the striping was impeccable), so my radio was pretty much always locked in on KOQK. It’s a good station for parking, y’know? The variety of what they play really helps with the variety of parking spaces you find in most lots or public garages. Wait a minute, what was the question again?

Allison Silverslaw: I think it was after his third show when we started to get a lot of feedback from the community. A common refrain was, “I thought your signal went out, but I guess not” or “I don’t understand what is happening? I don’t hear anything but hiss.” People were really into it. “I wish this were music!” they’d say. 

J.D. Warkel: I didn’t like the JVC tapes. I know some do, but they never did it for me. Look, I’m not going to criticize another person’s taste when it comes to hiss, but in my experience the only people that listen to JVCs are clowns — literal clowns.

Allison Silverslaw: At the time, our second most popular show was “Big Shoe Dance Party,” which was a two-hour show featuring clown and circus music. It was hosted by Mr. Sundrop, a prominent member of the local clowning community. One Thursday Mr. Sundrop started playing blank JVC tapes — I think he featured the A side of a 60-minute tape a friend had passed along. People really loved it. Of course, this didn’t sit well with J.D. 

J.D. Warkel: Mr. Sundrop? I don’t want to talk about Mr. Sundrop.

Alan Vick (aka Mr. Sundrop), professional clown: Look, I just want to make people happy — which is harder and harder to do these days as a clown. I don’t know if you’ve read the papers, but clowns are really struggling. Everyone is afraid of us! I’m not saying we can blame J.D. entirely for that, but he wasn’t not not responsible, y’know? Wait, how many negatives is that? It was supposed to be two — but now I’m thinking it was three. Can we start over?

J.D. Warkel: All I’m saying is he ripped me off. I don’t want to talk about it. But he’s a thief and he ripped me off! Let’s change the subject. If I see Mr. Sundrop again, and I don’t care if he’s making a balloon poodle for some eight year-old, but I’m gonna take off that dumb red nose of his, and I’m gonna make him eat it. With his mouth. All of it. 

Allison Silverslaw: I think we knew things were changing when J.D. started playing vinyl. 

J.D. Warkel: A buddy of mine hooked me up with an unpressed 180-gram LP from a local record plant (actually, without all of the groves, it might even be 181 grams). Anyway, I wanted to broaden my horizons – thought the listeners would really appreciate it. Way more than that clown music. That’s for sure.

Allison Silverslaw: I’d never heard so many complaints. One woman came up from the parking lot screaming about her ears.

Tammy T. Plop: The sound was just horrible. There was nothing subtle about it. I was parallel parking at time — right outside the station. I couldn’t take it anymore. I just left the car running and went in to look for the station manager. My car was a solid 8 inches from the curb. I was so ashamed.

Allison Silverslaw: He locked the door to the studio so we couldn’t stop him. He played the entirety of the B-Side. When he replaced the turntable stylus for the second time, we decided to take drastic actions and pulled the station off the air. At the time KOQK had been broadcasting non-stop since 1949. It was a dark day.

J.D. Warkel: Do I wish I could do it over again? Yeah, I do. I regret playing the vinyl. I’m a magnetic tape guy. It’s in my blood. And I hated going back to county lockup. In hindsight, not all communication has to happen with a message taped to a brick. 

Tim Gurt: When magnetic tape started to fade away, he stopped coming into the store. CD-Rs, that’s what we were stocking. I think he bought out the last of our Maxell stock, and then just sort of vanished. But I do remember seeing him one Saturday afternoon in the late 90s, standing in front of the shelves and quietly weeping. It was sad. But, if I’m gonna be honest with you, I’m a simple man. I prefer listening to recorded music. I never really understood the whole ‘hiss’ thing. It sounds “warmer” he would always say. What does that mean, warmer? Can I dance to it? Does it have a killer guitar solo? In the bridge does it change key? These are the questions that are important to me. Eh, what do I know.

“The Magnetic Media Hour” went off the air on August 14th, 1993. This November “Big Shoe Dance Party” will be celebrating it’s 30th year on the air.

Rick Pecoraro
WXNA Contributor

Photo credit: stuart.childs on Flickr