How to get on the radio

Hello students. Hello non-students. Do you love the musics? If you enjoy serendipitous discovery and you need a way to blow off steam after classes/work, then get involved with WCBN.

You have a couple options.

• You can come to a Sunday orientation session. These occur at 4pm every Sunday. You'll get a tour and then your guide will get you started on volunteer work, as well as show you how to make an audition tape.
• You can also come visit us on Fridays at 6pm, for a program we call The 6 O'Clock Shadow. It's not a training or orientation session; rather, it's simply a chance for you to have a look around, pick out a few songs and play them with the DJ's assistance. When you're done, we hope you'll be interested enough to come back for a Sunday orientation session.

Look at some of these pages to pique your interest.
The WCBN homepage.
The 6 O'Clock Shadow.
The WCBN Blahg.
WCBN on Facebook.

Look at our gallery of awesome fliers and think about how if you were one of us, you'd create such better ones we'd weep with admiration.

Broadcast French on the radio during the day, using these handy tips!

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We love you, Adam Yauch.

Fuck Cancer.

I've spent a lot of the last few days in the zone, which means wearing the can headphones at work to shut out my co-workers, shooting baskets alone at lunch hour (which is "very zen" if you know what that means) and in general struggling with how to articulate my feelings about losing Adam Yauch last Friday. In a place as potentially public as this blog you can be sure I'll still only scratch the surface. The obvious things that everyone can relate to are (1) he was a tremendous entertainer who enriched millions of lives and (2) cancer claimed him at 47 which is just so fucking terrible.

All the internet is on fire with reflections- most of them sloppy and sentimental like this will be- but the LA Times article and the Onion A/V Club thing were good, and there might have been one or two others I read before I stopped reading that I should be mentioning but you don't really need to read more and more about it. In fact it is taking me days to write this, so let me add the Free Music Archive post, and the one on Trust Me I'm a Scientist. Blake Madden really hits the nail where the other posts seem to have shied away, in a paragraph that begins with, "Personally, I’m pissed off."

For me, and a lot of people my age, if I may be so presumptuous, losing MCA might as well be the same thing as losing a friend from high school or young adulthood. Sure, maybe we haven't seen each other in a long time, we haven't hung out in forever, we may have only a vague idea of what each other is really up to day-to-day, but we still care and cherish the times we had together when we were reaching adulthood. We partied together every night of the summer between junior and senior year of high school, drinking cases of beer in places like unused playgrounds and riverbanks.

We were city kids who went to integrated public schools and we loved both hip-hop and hardcore equally, so to us it was a logical progression when the Beastie Boys came along doing both and combining their sensibilities. Right around the same time as Licensed to Ill exploded, I had a copy of the cassette-only "New York Thrash" on ROIR which is now available on CD and vinyl and includes two early Beastie Boys hardcore tracks. There's a lot of stuff on that cassette that's better than the Beastie Boys' two songs (Bad Brains! False Prophets!), but there they are in 1982 being very fucking punk.

As predicted, I can't really go on. I'm not deluded that the masses are flocking to read my blahg, but it's still the same as putting your words up on a telephone pole. A lot of what I'm thinking is still too personal to share, but I'll close by quoting myself from an email I sent earlier this week and then recommend you listen to the archives of my friend and fellow radio host Paul Simpson, this Grand Royal mixtape, and the first hour of my archive from last Friday. Having a trainee with me in the studio helped me keep it together, or else I would have been a sloppy mess and that's totally unnecessary.

Quoting myself:

"With one paragraph, he [Blake Madden] approaches one of the thoughts I keep having, which none of the other articles I've read (not that I've read more than 4 or 5) have dwelled on. The brutal unfairness of it. How come we get to hear every day about disgusting monsters like octomom and the tanning mom and whoever else, murderers like Dick Cheney who get to live long lives, all the useless pieces of shit in the world, but a righteous dude like Adam Yauch doesn't even make it to 50? This is why people invent religions, to cope with crap like this. "Oh, God needed him in heaven" or some shit."

Paul's amazing three-hour tribute show
The Grand Royal Mixtape
Tight Pants, May 4, 2012

Goodbye, MCA. You were always my favorite.

Let's Trade Tapes!

I'm spending a lot of time lately with cassettes. This isn't because I'm a neo-hipster (I'm too old for that) although I have heard that cassettes are trendy again for them. It's actually because I've got a new old car! It has AM/FM/cassette so now I don't have to drive around wearing headphones!

Recently - really, really recently for this blahg - I explained to you how playing records on the radio every week was not necessarily a great boon to my music awareness. Well, this is a continuation on that thought, to some extent.

Being a radio DJ has also made it dramatically harder to create a good old mix tape. There's more than one reason for this so let me see if I can explain. In a sense, I make a mix tape every GD week, on the radio. I guess some people plan extensively for their shows and then of course there are commercial radio stooges who don't get to plan at all because a robot is doing it for them, but I don't plan at all beyond taking a few records from home and maybe thinking of what I'm going to play first.

I arrive about 30 minutes before the show, pull out a bunch of things I think I want to play, and with that stack, whatever I've brought from home, and listener requests (if I can get to them) I do the show. I've gotten really good at flying by the seat of my pants to a point where if a song is longer than four minutes and I have something in the queue after it, I feel bored and over-prepared. Describing it makes it sound like every show must be a total trainwreck but I listen to my archives every week and seldom gasp in horror.

With a mix tape you have the luxury of time, and also to go back and record over "She Blinded Me with Science" when you realize that hearing it once every ten years is enough. Futhermore, you are presumably creating something that you or a special someone will listen to more than once, whereas a radio show airs once and is then forgotten. It should be anyway. Unless you save archives. Anyway, they're different. Which is why it's ironically so much harder now to make a mix tape.

Perhaps this is all complete bullshit. Making a mix tape is a skill and an art. If you don't do it for ten years, you're going to be out of practice, just like the time last week when you tried to play "Michelle" on the recorder for your special someone but you couldn't do it because you hadn't played recorder since second grade. The more you do it, the better you'll get. So if you also have a car with a cassette deck, or you're a neo-hipster on the 'tapes are cool again' bandwagon, then let's make each other some tapes. I like ones I can sing along to while driving.

Being a radio DJ has kinda ruined how I listen to music.

I am old. I have been buying records for a very long time. Before I became a radio DJ, I used to bring records home and listen to them, the whole things, over & over. I could pull out any record I owned and know what all the songs were by name. If they didn't jive over time then I would get rid of them, mostly.

This is because duh, we listen to music because we enjoy it, right? I mean you kids today don't have any concept of an "ALBUM" but humor me for a minute. The bands work very hard on the package, including the song order and artwork, so out of decency you need to listen to the package as it was intended. Back in the mix-tape days, getting to know an LP intimately would help you make tapes no one would ever want to record over after you gave them to them.

These days it's totally different. Thank god a lot of record stores let you preview records at least, and I do. I play a couple seconds of a few tracks to see if they get my attention enough to play once on the radio. Sadly, this is frequently where my attention ends. I play the record on the radio a few times but once I stash it in my stacks, I forget about it.


Of course the record gets rediscovered every so often. I may stumble upon it while looking for something to play and I go "oh yeah, I forgot about this!" Like the proto-Birthday Party Boys Next Door record I keep forgetting I have.


Or I'll be listening to an archived show (this helps us become better DJs) and have to check the playlist and be reminded of something I played once that was awesome, like the Plungers "Let's Get Twisted" record.


The good thing about this is [re]discovering awesome stuff in your collection. Remember Rye Coalition? When they first stepped on the scene I gobbled up their early 7" records and the split 12" with Karp. Then they put out their first LP and I left Amerikkka for an overseas adventure which lasted almost 10 years. I guess they're still making records, but anyway, right now I'm rediscovering "Hee Saw Dhuh Kaet."


Tell me what you've [re]discovered lately.

Tight Pants Obsession of the Moment: Franz Ferdinand

I was toiling away at work today when I got a sudden earworm. I just had to hear the first Franz Ferdinand album, but I didn't have it with me because duh, I was at work, so I was reduced to playing youtube videos. They actually got the job done pretty well.

I realized that I know almost every word of this album, but not proudly because it's one of my guilty pleasures. As if I need to care what anyone thinks. As if I'm somehow losing punk cred with myself for being in love with this record.

So for the record, I'm in love with Franz Ferdinand (the record.)

I used to think sheepishly that it was pop bubblegum and was apologetic for liking Franz Ferdinand, but this is a genius album. Today I realized it not only is kind of like a Gang of Four record for the aughts (ahh, well, before Gang of Four actually made a new record for the aughts), it is also like a Talking Heads '77 album for the aughts. I'm making this parallel mainly based on lyrics and therefore attitude.

Plus I really enjoy saucy, fuckoff lyrics like "come on home, but don't forget to leave" and "I know I won't be leaving here with you." A girl can sing along with this record from start to finish. That is why I never take passengers in my car.


There aren't many albums I can remember hearing for the first time. By this I do mean a song on the radio or friend's house or whatever, not literally the whole album, but the implication is you hear the song and then you procure the album that comes with it, unless it is a single. What I also mean is the details are clear: not only do you remember hearing it but you remember where you were, what you were doing, maybe what year it was.

I was in Prague the summer of 2004, hanging around a friend's apartment and thought it would be neat to turn on a radio and check out some Czech radio and maybe discover some Czech bands but of course pretty much every station was playing English language pop or rock. It was under these conditions that I first heard "Matinee."

Do you think the nice Czech DJ came on the radio like we do at WCBN and clearly announced the name of the band and song? It was weeks before I heard it again, and I'm lucky it was a huge smash because it did reappear by way of Asian MTV. I used to live in a faraway land, you see, and I was in Prague on holiday from my Southeast Asian residence where I lived for six years.

So thanks to MTV and Asian CD piracy I bought my first copy (a burned CD in a plastic envelope with a shittily computer printed album cover and song list) of Franz Ferdinand and listened to it quite a bit for quite a while. Next six Tight Pantses, you're going to listen to it too.

...but if you're still looking for punk cred, how's this: drummer Paul Thomson was also in the wicked awesome Yummy Fur, although he wasn't on their incredible first album Nightclub. (See how uuhngschpugg can't admit that Franz Ferdinand is a good record.)

Into the Future, with Gramma K

I have some things to tell you.

1. I have handed off the Program Director duties to a new recruit, so prepare to witness my transformation from the Wicked Witch of the East into Glenda the Good Witch.

2. I invented a super-fast-amazing way to create my playlists without typing any html myself!!! (No, not by making the new PD do it.) This may result in Tight Pants playlists being more up-to-date!

3. I can personally confirm that The Listenership (WCBN's 40th anniversary commemorative smoked pale ale created for us by Logan at Arbor Brewing Company) is delicious and won't fuck you up too much. You can safely drink it on a work or school night, so waste no more time and get down there in WCBN's honor.

4. Not being a native of Michigan, I have never been able to wrap my head around the fact that this bridge is privately owned. How is that possible? It's so fucked up I can't digest it at all. So I did some googling to see how many other major international, or even interurban, connectors there were in the USA that were privately owned and I found this website which is pretty cool. Bridges!

Happy Friday, which it will be soon. See you at 3pm.

WCBN IS TURNING 40! Arbor Brewing Company helps us celebrate with BEER.

Hello friends,

Some are saying 40 is the new 30. The age until which a growing number of modern Americans are waiting to settle down, become half a marital unit, and begin to breed. But not WCBN. In its heart WCBN will always remain single, independent, and carefree. Actually it wouldn’t be that bad if WCBN reproduced.

Anyway, to commemorate the 40th anniversary of WCBN moving to FM on January 23, 1972, Arbor Brewing Company has brewed up a smoked English pale called “The Listenership.” You may join us in its unveiling on Wednesday, January 11, at WCBN’s monthly movie screening. This month the movie will be “Jailhouse Rock.”

Doors open at 8:30pm in the Tap Room Annex of the Arbor Brewing Company in downtown Ann Arbor. No one is sure how long this brew will be available (true greatness is always fleeting, so be thankful WCBN has existed as long as it has) so make sure you show up for the movie if you want to get a taste.

Your truly,

WCBN

NORTON RECORDS 25th ANNIVERSARY BALL: Part IV.

At last....day 4 and the last instalment. Wait, instalment only has one "l"? Oh, anyway, Saturday was an incredibly late night. When you get home at 5:00 the next morning I'm pretty sure it isn't technically Saturday any more. Put a long Saturday spent outside in the cold on top of a long Saturday night rubbing shoulders at the club, drinking beer and riding the filthy subway together and you get...sick on Sunday!

I felt so shitty that during my dinner date with family I almost blew Sunday night off entirely. That would have been a mistake, though. Because of said dinner I missed out totally on what could have been my first time ever seeing Bloodshot Bill. I take back what I said about one-man-bands belonging on subway platforms, by the way. I also fucking missed the Figures of Light for fuck's sake! Just get your info, I don't know, here

The Real Kids were scheduled but couldn't make it, so the last-minute addition was The Swingin' Neckbreakers. How ecstatic a couple young ladies in front of me were to see them! They knew all the words to all the songs and between each one kept raving about how totally psyched they were to see their old faves unexpectedly. For me that is like if the Jesus Lizard had bbeen substituted in or something.

Since I spent most of Sunday night half-asleep leaning against a wall, I was able to observe the crowd more. During the A-Bones a girl in front of me was texting her lame friend who wasn't at the show for like the whole A-Bones set. The exchange went something like this:

Lame Friend: So like how's the big concert?
Girl: So like the A-Bones are on right now.
Lame Friend: I so do NOT like that band.
Girl: You should have seen the Condo Fucks.
Lame Friend: LOL
Girl: They had this guy named Gaylord singing.
Lame Friend: WHAAT?!!
Girl: It was pretty funny.

...and then...the Tandoori Knights! King Khan, Bloodshot Bill, and band all wearing south Asian-ish costumes and parodying south Asians in a way only south Asians could get away with. Oh but also great rock'n'roll. As you know from my post below about Bloodshot Bill, I was swept entirely off my feet, although that was pretty easy on Sunday night. Hell, I didn't even stay for the Sonics. I had already seen them, and was so dead tired and sick that I slouched on a couch in the front room at the Bell House until my friends came out and we got a car home.

That's all! Now back to posting on this blog only once every three months.

OCCUPY MY TURNTABLE

I admit it, I had not heard of Bloodshot Bill before the Norton Records Ball. How is this possible? Well, due to living in a 'depressed market', as one promoter called the southeast Michigan area, and smugly but erroneously believing that having my own radio station would keep me informed about good new music I needed to hear, I'm pretty out of touch. I realized that at the Norton thing.

If you've been as deprived as me you may not realize that Bloodshot Bill has about a million records out. He's like a modern-day Hasil Adkins, only somewhat more sophisticated, and Canadian. But don't take my word for it- see for yourself! He has a blog.

I will get back to telling you about the rest of the Norton Dance in a little while, but for now enjoy this brief interlude inspired by the amazing Bloodshot Bill, who played in Detroit Sunday night November 27 at the Magic something or other and whose new record I finally discovered and which may well not leave the turntable for two months, a record previously set in 1993 by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion's second album Extra Width which, incidentally, has been reissued this year.

NORTON RECORDS 25th ANNIVERSARY: Day 3

Saturday night. Minds were blown. At least, mine was. Not to sound like a cop-out, but for the one of you actually reading this blog on a semi-regular basis, I got the idea that you probably don't need seventeen paragraphs of philosophy. If you did you'd go to grad school. So I'll do what I can to be brief.

Here is the Norton Records 25th Anniversary theme song: JJ Jackson's "OO MA LIDDY". By the third or fourth time I heard this record in between sets, it started to stand out as an obvious DJ favorite. Were there others I didn't notice? Possibly, but this song will now always remind me of these fabulous four days in New York.

Saturday was so much fun, I got sick. Saturday. Saturnalia. The Nortones by day 3 had found their groove and achieved full sloppy appeal. Brooklyn's Daddy Long Legs were next, purveying a cruder, lower-fi Legendary Shack Shakers (who are an excellent live band) or perhaps Link Wray of the "Hidden Charms" style of Link Wray. They were joined by Cyril Jordan and Roy Loney of the Flamin' Groovies. I think I would have fainted if that had been my band.

I didn't imagine that The Hentchmen, a Detroit band I have seen many times and (I admit) take for granted a little would be one of the highlights of the ball. I heard they were a little nervous before they went on. Nervous! I can't say they stole the show that night entirely, because Luis & the Wildfires were also great, but they were great. Did going on early enough not to be drunk yet have anything to do with it?

The South Bay Surfers are said to be the West Coast's answer to King Uszniewicz & the U-tones. Someone please tell me if these bands suck out loud (in a good way) on purpose. I'm definitely not in on the joke...or maybe I am! Russell Quan played drums and at one point during their set, the singer/sax player turned around and told him he had to follow along with the rest of the totally dysfunctional band.

WCBN's rockabilly DJ shared Luis & the Wildfires' new album "Heart Shaped Noose" with me a few months ago and I was on the fence. That neo-rockabilly scene occupies a grey area between sorta cool and really corny as far as I am concerned. Robbie Fulks sums it up pretty well with this song. Chances are if someone raves about how "authentic" one of these bands is, they spend more time on their costumes than on the music. Luis & the Wildfires, thankfully, turned out to be a fantastic live band. I don't think I was the only one thusly impressed: later on at the bar, as I tugged on Luis's coatsleeve to compliment him on an awesome set, several other drunk boys & girls were doing the same. He very graciously thanked us all and called all the girls nice things like "honey" and "beautiful."

Saturday night was the only night I drank more than my share of beer. By this time I was half in the bag. I'm pretty sure that Untamed Youth and Randy Fuller Four with Deke Dickerson were great, but this is the part where you might want to look at the Youtube videos. The last act was ? and the Mysterians. I was that drunk lady next to you singing along too loud with "Be My Baby" which I am certain they played twice. We didn't get home til about 5am, but that is partly because I refused to take a cab and spent an hour and a half on the subway. Bad move.

Damn. Still not brief enough.

NORTON RECORDS 25th ANNIVERSARY: DAY 2

I thought it would be cool to show up fashionably late on Friday, but I overshot and missed not only the Nortones but also the Condo Fucks with the Great Gaylord. I walked in just in time for the last song on their set. It looked good. Luckily there is video footage of the whole thing, both tolerable video and godawful video, for those of you who prefer to have your senses assaulted by shaky pixelated images and bottom-of-trashcan sound.

One-man band Mark Sultan was next. It was hard to tell if he was seriously berating the audience for its generally tepid response to him (plausible) or if he was being punk rock. He plowed through a set that couldn't have lasted longer than 15 minutes, breaking his drum pedal at some point and appearing to use that as an excuse to finish and leave even though Billy Miller brought him a different one. I like Mark's records but I have to say the one-man-band routine live is the sort of thing that belongs on subway platforms. What I mean by that is it's not the most spectacularly interesting thing to watch unless you are one of those "how does he DO that?!" geeks. Which you probably are.

I picked up a new copy of the formerly readable, now useless newsrag The Village Voice either Friday or Saturday and it had a teeny little teaser someone had written for the Norton Fest. It said basically that each night had a band or two worth seeing, but the best night would probably be Friday. It was all moot of course since the whole shindig was sold out for weeks prior to the printing of last week's Voice, but that didn't stop them from recommending Friday night and listing the price of tickets. At least it's free- you can use it to line your catbox every week, or light your barbecue. And for your information, Village Voice, Saturday was the best night, but we'll get there soon.

Oh anyway. Jackie and the Cedrics! From Tokyo! I believe they said this was their first time in NY in about 5 years. They wore matching loungecoats like the Phantom Surfers, but worked a lot harder to appear competent and pulled it off. It is always a challenge to look like you are rocking out while you play most any kind of keyboard instrument; extra member Tucker Rodriguez made it happen.

The Reigning Sound is a band (and by band I mean a rotating cast of musicians supporting Greg Cartwright) I've always wanted to like so much more than I do. The current lineup is basically the Jay Vons with Greg Cartwright. They played an excellent set and were appreciated by a moderately sized but enthusiastic group of fans. Seeing them live was definitely more interesting than listening to Reigning Sound records, some of which (the new one, I'm thinking of) border on positively pop and ballad-y. You can download that new record here, by the way.

The crowning event of the evening was ostensibly the Norton Records Soul and R&B Revue. It was weird.

I know I stated previously that sloppy is about what I merrily expect from Norton...but the R&B Revue was supposed to be better executed. At least I imagined it would be, which was why I was surprised to see essentially a garage band with a bunch of old gentlemen singing a few songs. The Mighty Hannibal was led out by King Khan and did fine as long as he held onto the mic stand. You see, he's had a stroke and a heart attack, can't see a thing, and looked pretty feeble up there. His mind is obviously still sharp because he said a couple funny things including telling us that he had had a stroke and a heart attack, but tonight he was gonna give us all strokes and heart attacks.

Andre Williams came up next and did a couple tunes, including one of the newer ones, "Agile, Mobile, Hostile." Someone missed a cue and the result was the band repeating the same refrain over for a couple minutes, looking confused and embarrassed, while Andre Williams snapped his fingers, tapped his feet and opened and closed his mouth a whole bunch while he apparently waited for the band to do something. I started wondering if he was OK. Then finally they moved on to another song.

I know they still want to perform, and they are finally receiving their due after many years of relative obscurity, and I want them to receive the credit (and pay) they deserve, but trotting out elderly musicians in questionable health has a certain level of exploitation involved. It reminds me of the horrible spectacle of Chuck Berry fainting on stage in Chicago in January of this year. I won't post a link to that video- google it yourself if you really need to see it. You're a terrible voyeur, though.

To sum up, Friday night was not the best night of the four-day ball, in fact, it was the least best. I ended up being a little depressed and weirded out by the last hour. The most exciting thing about Friday night might well have been walking back to the train station and seeing some drunk driver totally plow over the median on 4th Av without even slowing down.

NORTON RECORDS 25th ANNIVERSARY

You didn't ask for it, but you got it anyway: the obligatory post-bonanza writeup of the bands events party etc that were the Norton Records 25th Anniversary Ball. They didn't call it ball but it was a ball. It was such a ball that I came home ill and had to stay home from work hawking phlegm balls. Oooh I said ball/s again. Ball.

As a prelude to all this, let me tell you that the Meat Puppets passed through Ann Arbor again on Wednesday November 9, the day before I took off for New York. They're great people and they always stop at WCBN when they come through and everyone gets on the pest list. I went to bed around 3am and had to get up to go the next morning at 7am.

Never travel anywhere with me because my bad luck will fuck you up. We were supposed to leave at 10:25am and yet, I didn't land at LaGuardia until 4pm. My plan to take a nap before the Norton Ball commenced was thwarted. I got to the Bell House in time for the Norton Records house band, the Nortones. They played covers of songs like Link Wray's "Jack the Ripper" and the Ramones' "Judy is a Punk" and the Rivieras' "California Sun." They were wearing matching white cardigans with red "N"s stuck onto the right breasts. I said breasts. Given what we've come to expect from Norton Records (you know what I mean!) I was surprised that the Nortones were pretty tight but also little stiff, as if they had rehearsed quite a bit and were nervous. I'd be nervous too if I were kicking off a four-day Norton Ball. I was expecting something sloppier, but by the third night they had relaxed and were closer to what I was expecting. I like sloppy.

Up next was Dex Romweber and his sister Sara in the Dex Romweber Duo. She is some kind of drummer! I saw them once before, on a night in Detroit where there were three great things all happening in one night so we were like "ooooooooocheckoutdexromweberooooooocheckouttheseotherbandsnotimetothinkjustgogogogo" so maybe I forgot to notice that she could really play the shit out of the drums, not just your standard perfectly passable garage drummer but like Bruce Brand or something. At this point I finally stopped thinking I should've taken a nap and skipped the first couple bands. Dex Romweber is great.

After Dex it was the Phantom Surfers. I think Russell Quan used to play drums but this night he was the singer. All good instrumental bands need a singer. He did a really good job conducting with his back to the audience, waving drumsticks and dropping papers on the stage. At a certain point he started doing jumping jacks. He also climbed up on a flimsy folding chair and then fell off it and even though that was probably deliberate, it was still hilarious.

Following up after the Phantom Surfers were the Alarm Clocks. Their single "No Reason to Complain" is obligatory proto-punk fare and appears on countless 1960s garage comps everywhere. Norton put out a record or two recently by the recently reunited revitalized band. The Alarm Clocks are on my "probably should but don't give a shit" list. I spent this 45 minutes mostly looking through the Norton records at the merch table. Sorry, Billy & Miriam, if I drooled on any of them.

The Hentchmen were booked at this shindig, for Saturday night. It was nice to see familiar faces so I talked to Johnny Hentch for a few minutes and met the closest thing I have to a counterpart at WFMU, the inimitable Terre T of the Cherry Blossom Clinic.

It occurs to me I haven't mentioned emcee Kim Fowley yet. I don't remember specifically any of the things he said but I believe his main role was to horrify and offend (and thus delight) the audience. Mission accomplished! He is a depraved old man who was funny but also offensive. He asked one woman to shout the worst word she knew into the mic. Of course she said "cunt!" Someone in the audience yelled "Kim Fowley!" Cunt's not such a bad word, though.

Finally, the 5.6.7.8's were cute and coordinated and everyone loved them and after that it was the Black Lips, a last-minute-addition to the bill to make up for the last-minute-cancellation of the Gaye Blades. I'm a little embarrassed to admit I had never seen the Black Lips- in spite of multiple opportunities, including one where they played with Quintron, I've just never made it in to Detroit to see them. So they were young and punk and sloppy and unshaven and they made out with each other, maybe to shock people or maybe to demonstrate their love for each other, I'm not sure. At this point though because of the previous late night and the all-day trip to LaGuardia I was kind of crashing so I left before they were done. I'm old so I can do that now.

This was only the first day. Let's post this now, how about that, and add in the other days one at a time. I know you are on the edges of your seatses.

Going to rock & roll shows used to be more fun.

I'm revealing my age by stating that I can hardly stand going to rock & roll shows any more because of all the "hipsters."

For those of us who don't remember the original "hipster," the term used to evoke images of young jazzbos hanging around New York clubs or in artists' lofts making paintings and poetry (some of it shitty, surely.) I'm guessing the original hipster we picture is a highly romanticized version of what they really were, but I've always imagined they were untouchably cool.

It's ironic (and what isn't, in this millennium?) that the word never really enjoyed a rebirth- or a reapplication- until now. These days, the term is used to refer to a certain type of young person, one that is not likely to play bongos, listen to jazz or write poetry. I think you know what this kind of "hipster" is.

A "hipster" is a rich white kid who buys his/her clothes at a thrift and doesn't ever wash them. He/she can't tell the difference between styles of the 60s, 70s or 80s, all of which he/she is borrowing and mixing. He/she wears your 6th grade English teacher's giant eyeglasses and thinks ill-fitting moth-eaten clothes, hair feathers, and fur hats are cool. For purposes of distinguishing these clowns from hipsters of the 1950s, I'll indicate that I mean the new kind by saying "neo-hipsters."

Neo-hipsters, I was the grumpy over-30 lady whose feet you tramped on in your high heels the other night. Who wears high-heels in a pit? I was the one who kept taking advantage of the vacuum and getting in front of you every time you got shoved to the side by one of your fellow hippies. It was my face that you bonked repeatedly with your big hairy fake fur hat. I was the one who didn't move out of your way just because you tried to push me deliberately/accidentally.

Actually, in very good humor I waved away your tepid apologies, when they were offered. I've been in a million pits and had my feet stomped, my kidneys kneeed, my ribs elbowed, my tits twisted, my head kicked, and my nose broken by a feet-first-stage-diving metalhead at an Agnostic Front show in 1987ish. I understand the risks of standing front-and-center. I even understand that you might not have taken a shower before the gig, and I certainly have been drenched in other people's sweat after a show many hundreds of times. But there's something about your anti-style that is worse than all the ones before it. Is it because I am old, or is it you?

You don't really smell like B.O. Your problem isn't necessarily your failure to wear deodorant, although I have heard that as many as 20% of you never use the stuff. I've rubbed up against enough sweaty young boys and girls (I've been one myself! it gets hot in the pit) to be resigned to smelling other people's odors until I get home, strip, take a shower, and throw show-clothes in the laundry. But you guys don't smell like sweat. You smell like trash.
No, literally- do you bunk with Oscar the Grouch? Do you live in a dumpster? Do you sleep in gutters routinely? Do you mop up spills with your wormy cardigans and then put them back on?

I'm all for belonging to a counter-culture and expressing yourself as a unique individual. When I was a teen I thought that meant a painted leather jacket and studs and spiked green hair. I still let my mother wash my clothes, though, and I even showered routinely! Not like those gutter-punks you're probably also emulating.

Neo-hipsters, you are as much of a cliche as any other cliche, just like hippies and punks. Thanks to the internet, you've achieved this in record time. Congratulations! Now take your stank-ass and get a shower already. Then get your moms and dads to take you to the mall and buy some new clothes from H&M.

Too much Flipper is never enough.

I'm catching up on posting radio show archives and having the brilliant new idea that won't last a week that I should post whenever I add a new archive, e.g., once a week, and have the post have something to do with the archive. Of course in reality it won't work out that way since my archive manager (hello Mischa!) only manages to upload my archives once a month or so and then he does a whole bunch at once. It's obvious we're related, actually, because we do things the exact same way. Also, there's no way I'll be able to think of something engaging to tell you about every archive and therefore about each Friday I was on the radio. That would imply there's always some sort of special occasion or agenda going on, and there isn't.

None of that interests you. I'm not sure what interests you, but you came to read this, so I'll try to keep interesting you. On Friday, August 12, I picked out a wide range of music to play as usual, but then I started off with Flipper and afterward just wanted to play a bunch more Flipper and then a bunch of pissed off punk rock. I mean, more than usual, since that's what a lot of Tight Pants is about: pissed off punk rock, pissed off soul, pissed off r&b, pissed off spoken word, and pissing on hippies.

If you didn't already know it, Flipper is one of my most beloved bands. I love how they were so punk, they stuck their middle fingers up at punk and hardcore and were punker than anyone. When everyone else was trying to play as fast as possible (thus encouraging the popular conviction that slow music therefore sucked) Flipper was playing slow. Every word they said was clear, so you could follow along without a lyric sheet or a bouncing ball.
If you've never listened to Flipper, I don't know how you ended up here, but may I helpfully recommend that you begin with Flipper's first album, the one known as "Generic," the yellow one that PiL ripped off four years later. It only has nine songs so you won't be too overwhelmed with your short attention span. Also, two of those songs are incredibly long- "I saw you shine" clocks in at over eight minutes, while "Sex Bomb" (which says the same thing over and over again so you get the idea after two or three minutes) is nearly eight- so you could take a break and come back to them later.

I keep getting older and wondering why this album keeps getting better and better. You would think that something so juvenile would someday become too embarrassing to listen to once you get into your 30s but I'm pleased to tell you it doesn't. So August 12's show opened with three in a row by Flipper, including one from this lovely album, and I'm linking the archive for you right now. Thank you for reading. Now listen to Flipper.

It's July. It's been 2 months. I'm very busy.

Contrary to popular trends at WCBN right now, I will not gripe about how much I hate the Art Fair. In fact, I don't really mind it that much. It only lasts a few days, and in those few days I can cross downtown streets without peril (admittedly, that depends on one's concept of peril) and in general enjoy a slower pace of life in this already slow-paced small town.

It did occur to me today that ArtFair should really be staged outside of town, on some fairgrounds or something, but then how would local businesses be able to capitalize on it? However much some people complain it does break up the monotony of daily life in downtown because face it, this is a small, mostly boring town. Oh yes it is.

One more comment: ArtFair isn't as bad as football Saturdays, so I'll take ArtFair, thank you very goddam much. If it inconveniences your drive, don't drive. It's not as if there's no other way to get into town.

Now, since today is Friday, readers are reminded that the horrible radio show known as Tight Pants is on WCBN today, and will be as fresh and exciting as a new bag of old records, because that is precisely what I have. Listen for vinyl selections of The Buzzcocks, Davie Allan & the Arrows, The Falcons, Hound Dog Taylor,and more.

The new WCBN movie schedule is posted on the website, and I'll be on for an extra hour tonight doing the 6 O'clock Shadow. If you're looking for a way to escape or undermine ArtFair, then tune in to Tight Pants from 3-5:30pm and stay on for the 6 O'clock Shadow at 6pm.

88.3fm

WCBN Ann Arbor

13 is my lucky number

I have nothing better to talk about today, so let me direct you elsewhere: WCBN's bookface page, WCBN's blog, my favorite place to read, anywhere.

I first heard this song 20 or so years ago on WHRB at some ungodly hour of morning when they used to have nightly punk programming during summer called The Record Hospital. Actually in looking up these links it's evident the show still exists, which is great. Long live college radio and the outlooks it forever changes. Anyway, I am certain that every DJ who has ever played this song has taken a perverse pleasure in doing so. I certainly have. I'm not really sure what's up with the images accompanying it but whatever.

Enjoy The Child Molesters. That's all I've got for today.

Omni: from the not so lucky country, back to US.

Americans make great music. There might be a lot of shitty things we hate about this place, but no one can argue that we make some of the greatest fucking music ever produced by the human species. Many of us are descended from British settlers, and the language we speak is still called 'English', but now it is they who emulate us. This is no great revelation. For instance, The Rolling Stones have never been anything other than a rhythm and blues band, trying their very hardest to emulate their idols: Chuck Berry, Scotty Moore, Jimmy Reed, Bo Diddley, Howlin' Wolf, Lightnin' Hopkins, the list goes on, and on, and on. Led Zeppelin were the same.

I hear people comment with some degree of incredulity that it is the Europeans- the Germans, for example- putting together all these collections of American music and then selling it back to us. The Bear Family label is a good example, not to mention all the hundreds of rockabilly comps like the Desperate Rock'n'Roll or That'll Flat Git It serieseses.

I'm not really leading up to any major point here, only that...DUH! We humans frequently take for granted what is easily accessible or at least familiar, and rhythm and blues, rock'n'roll, country and rockabilly certainly are that to Americans. It isn't really surprising then that an Australian label is now giving us back some of the bitterest, weirdest, not-square-est country music we've ever made. I'm talking about Omni Recordings, a project of basically one guy who happens to have a taste for American country music and has licensed quite a wide range of it from Columbia and other original labels. In many cases, he is using the master tapes and reissuing recordings that were previously available only on 78s. A friend of mine who works for Allmusic got this as a promo, and I decided I could no longer be aware of the great shit Omni was doing without asking for some of it for WCBN. As a college radio station, it just isn't in our budget to go out and buy everything we want, so we have to ask for freebies. That is how things work. In the old days, radio was free advertising for record companies.

So I wrote to Omni, and I asked nicely and said please, and would you believe, I received a reply saying they were trying to cut down on promos because postage was so expensive from Australia but what the hell, since I made a great case for WCBN. Two weeks later a box arrived, with 12 CDs in it. It was far more than we expected, and then last week another bigger box with even more goodies in it arrived, and all we've done is fax the guy some money for the international postage. We now have practically the whole Omni catalog.

This post is basically me urging all three of you to buy something from Omni. Even if you don't like country, there is probably something there you will like. He is reissuing Bruce Haack, for example, for all you vintage electro heads. Keep the man solvent so WCBN can keep playing more great American music. And all music. On this phony, dying-music-industry-created "record store day", be glad there are still labels out there making great stuff available to you.

What a nice young man...

Sunday, April 10: Another record fair at Weber's. (Next one July 10.) I broke my usual rule of avoiding the collectibles or pretty much any record priced higher than $1. The reason some people have this rule is obvious: because if they didn't, they'd either go home frustrated because they couldn't buy all this stuff they really wanted but was out of their price range, or they'd go home knowing they were going to spend the next six months eating out of dumpsters and hitting up relatives to pay the rent.

There was this one dealer with a corner spot who had hundreds of 45s, in stacks and in boxes, no sleeves, no order, no prices. They were filthy and beat up. How much did he want? A dollar a record! Crazy record fair motherfuckers: I swear I am not imagining that you think I was born yesterday because I am a girl. Well then, kindly bend over and suck my dick. Come back when it's quarter to four and you still somehow have 40 boxes of records to carry back out of the basement.

Anyway, close to the crazy man, there was another man, with one box of quarter 45s and a table of newer, pricier stuff. I made the mistake of looking and got a Talking Heads album of demos they made for CBS in 1975, before they had Jerry Harrison. I also got a 3-CD box of live New York Dolls from 1973-1974 (sound isn't bad) and the Bruce Haack LP "Electric Lucifer". It's not an original, it's the first reissue, but I am not a collector, I am a listener. I also picked up the Dick Hyman "Age of Electronicus" LP, which is Dick doing whacked out versions of the day's hits on the Moog. For instance, check this one out:

There's lots more great stuff in this list but I can't remember what it all is right now. Anyway, you don't need a list. You're probably wondering if I'll ever upload an album and post a link to it on this blahg. Hmmm. I wonder, too.

Now, back to the title of this post. I think my eventual stack ended up totaling in the $60 ballpark, but the nice man at this table knocked quite a bit off, asked me for $40, and said me and my accompaniment were the nicest people who had been at his table all day. Aww, shucks. What a nice young man.

Lightning Strikes!

One post per week. Maybe then you'll click on the ads enough that this will be worth my while. No just kidding. Saturday April 2 the B-Side hosted Providence's Lightning Bolt. It is my belief that much of the audience did not know what hit them.

Instead of setting up in the middle of the floor, as they are known to do, the duo stuck with convention and used the stage. Presumably half the crowd was just there for a spectacle and expecting insanity, so they created it. The last time I got so crushed by an audience surging towards the stage was probably the time I saw the Ramones about a million years ago. Funnily enough, that was in Providence. Anyway, there wasn't really enough room to move for people to get out of hand, but somehow a few of them managed to levitate out of the mob enough to crowd-surf. They nearly destroyed the suspended stage lighting in the process. To their credit, NZ staff on the premises did not freak out or try to stop people from...uh...dancing.

Well. It's been some time since I was pressed hard against so many sweaty youths. As much as I enjoy it, this time I opted out of elbows in the throat and armpits in the nose and heads in the chin, and retreated to higher ground behind the mob.

For some time I lived far away in an exotic land where rock & roll was still new, fresh, and forbidden, and on the rare occasion a band managed to play a few songs on a stage before the authorities shut them down, the teenage audiences would lose their minds and go into this frenzy of emotional release. They needed to blow off steam and rock music, the heavier and louder the better, was their way of venting, rebelling, escaping, shocking, and banding together. In writing this appears to sound tame and obvious, but this was a society where expressing your individuality was frowned on, where no normal kids would dare to scream in public or behave in any way that might embarrass their families.

In a weird way, this crowd last night reminded me of those days when it was clear the kids didn't care what was in front of them as long as it was loud and they could rip their shirts off and scream their lungs out and then go home and change back into their public persona.

Are you still reading this? Wow, thanks, I guess. This is why I don't post every week. Who wants to read it, anyway.

WCBN Fundraiser and the fabled power increase

Dear John, I guess it's been a long time since I last wrote. The thing is, I have something to tell you. It's WCBN's annual on-air fund drive, and they really need money.

You might have heard WCBN talking about increasing its transmitter power. It seems like a long time since they first mentioned that. In fact, it's only been two years, but this is a process that can't happen overnight.

First, the station needed to conduct a feasibility analysis. With only zero full-time paid staff, and a part-time engineer, this was not a job that WCBN could do itself. It had to hire a firm, and that cost a lot of money.

Then, once the study was complete, an application to the FCC had to be submitted. Once again, the firm was called upon to carry out this task. The application might have been submitted sooner, but in the year between the feasibility study and the application, WCBN lost its only paid employee, a half-time engineer. This slowed the station down, impeding its actions, communication with the firm, and appropriation of the necessary fees, but nonetheless, an application was submitted to the FCC for a power increase. This application also cost thousands of dollars in fees.

At this point in the story we have just arrived at 2010. The application was approved, but WCBN was still a long way from seeing permission to effect a power increase transform into the purchase of a 3000 watt transmitter (tens of thousands of dollars), the purchase of a compatible antenna (thousands of dollars) and the construction of a taller tower on the top of U of Michigan's Dennison Building (thousands of dollars, permission to build, god knows what else.)

It is now 2011. The permission slip to increase WCBN's power, if nothing is done, will expire at the end of 2012. We don't plan on doing nothing. We have a new engineer. We are negotiating with U of M for placement of the new tower, transmitter and antenna. It is likely that we will have to move them to a different U of M building, in which case we will have to submit a re-application to the FCC for transmitter relocation. This is likely to be approved, but...have you guessed what I'm going to say next? It's going to cost us more money.

The point of this is to respond to questions some DJs have received from listeners regarding our past discussion of the new transmitter (an oversimplification in terms) and assure the public that we have every intention of following through on our plans to increase our power. However, Rome wasn't built in a day, and this process- without multiple paid professionals working at WCBN full-time- will take us until the deadline. We will have to apply for grants, loans, whatever is available, and in the meantime, we will keep appealing to our listeners for donations.

Our fund-drive raises somewhere in the neighborhood of $20,000 annually. That's enough for our usual overhead. It will never be enough on its own for the power increase, but that doesn't subtract from WCBN's daily dependence on your generosity for the station's operations. Please stay with us, and help us continue to produce the programming you crave every day for another year.

Sincerely,

Kristin
WCBN Program Director and host of Tight Pants

Record Fairs

Every quarter year, the Ann Arbor record show comes to Weber's Inn. The fliers in fact call it a "Monster" record show. Having only one record show to compare Weber's to - the truly monstrous WFMU record fair - I disagree with its self designation as a monster show, but it's pretty good anyway. Weber's Inn is a hotel/restaurant/convention center on the road heading west out of Ann Arbor. Their billboards sport such catchy phrases as "MEAT WITH FRIENDS" and pictures of, what else, meat. If I had larvae to escape from I'd probably get a sitter and book a weekend at Weber's. I'd invite a special friend and soak in a hot tub and then do some other stuff too.

Oh, anyway. The record show. If you can dodge the many exhibits aimed at weenie collectors who buy records to look at instead of listen to, and buzz directly to the budget 45s, you'll crap yourself at the megatude of little records with big holes just waiting for you to take them home. You can hear some of the newestlatest on the last Tight Pants in January. They include such gems as Del Shannon: "Don't Gild the Lily, Lily"; the 5 Du-Tones: "Divorce Court"; Little Johnny Taylor: "I'll Make it Worth Your While"; and Led Zeppelin: "Immigrant Song" which must be played at 33rpm.

Once I win the lottery or whatever, I'll be able to show off all the wrapped-in-plastic never-to-touch-a-phonograph-needle record ripoffs I pick up at real monster record shows in exotic lands but for now you'll have to be content with little scratchy jukebox singles on WCBN. If you want to comment, tell us about the last fun things you took home from a record show!

To Rock, or Planet Rock

One fine day in 1957, my grandmother was headed out to the general store and she asked my wee mother if she'd like anything while she was out. Having just heard Chuck Berry for the first time, my mother asked for the single "Rock and Roll Music". Imagine her horror when my grandmother returned home and deposited into her hands a copy of the Royal Teens' "Short Shorts".

Now, "Short Shorts" was the hit song, but on the flip side there was an instrumental entitled "Planet Rock". The story goes that the little country store did not have any Chuck Berry, and the old folks, not being hip to the new fad that was sweeping the nation, opined that my pre-teen mom would be just as happy with the Royal Teens since there was a 'rock' in the name of one of the songs. Hell, she probably wouldn't even notice the difference.

As long as I can remember, there has never been a 45 of "Rock and Roll Music" in my mother's maroon box of seven inch little records with the big holes, but in addition to "Short Shorts" there are several Elvis records, the obligatory Beatles records, a couple of picture-sleeved Rolling Stones and Animals, and many more.

I'll be Frank. Some of these records stink. But this is a box of nostalgia, so that's not really important. When we were kids, my brother and I did so enjoy playing every record in the box, both sides, at all four speeds available on the 1970s Dual turntable we had. Let's not dwell too much on how bad that was for the needle- the turntable is long gone, anyway. And the records?

Well, what do you think the mail lady just dropped on my doorstep the other day, but a box of 45rpm little records. Their maroon box expired and my mother decided to ship them to me. Some of you might have heard me abusing your ears with them last Friday on Tight Pants. You can get a replay on that as soon as the archive of the show is posted. I can only wish WCBN had 16rpm turntables so I could play "Alvin's Harmonica" for you at that speed, but one thing I could never do as a child was play three of them at the same time. This, and many other reasons, is why I love college radio.

Child Bite "Fantastic Gusts of Blood" (Subterranean Sprawl, 2008)

Oh how pretentious. A record review. What do we think this is, Pitchfork? Oh no, it's a WCBN record review, written for the express purpose of letting DJs know what to expect before they put the disk in the player. Talk about a limited audience.

WCBN finally received a copy of this two-year old Child Bite album. One of my favorite bands on the current SE Michigan scene, Child Bite plays loud, intense shows where band members reel around the stage and things get broken. We just received this 2008 CD, and by now the
lineup of Child Bite has changed somewhat. Although Zach Norton (guitar) and Danny Sperry (drums) have moved on, the main forces behind Child Bite are Sean Clancy's unrestrained bass playing and Shawn Knight's demented vocals (he also plays guitar and keyboards, sometimes at once.) Yes, it's true what people say: he sounds a lot like David Thomas from Pere Ubu. Now that we've got that out of the way, Child Bite is fast, tight rock & roll. You can't really generalize that any one instrument is always in the lead-instead, the keyboard, the guitar, and the bass trade off and complement each other more than supporting or harmonizing. There is a lot going on with not a lot of over-production or added instrumentation.

I can't rave enough about how much I like the bass sound this band has, and how well I think it works on this album, but I don't want to give the impression that the bass overpowers the other instruments. It's just that it's much more than an accompaniment. If you like that sort of thing, you'll love this.

Child Bite is recommended if you like Six Finger Satellite, the Jesus Lizard, or things from the 1980s classified as "post-punk".

See Child Bite Friday, November 26 at the Magic Stick in Detroit when they play Hellmouth's CD release party.

The Bridge is Over

Traffic Entertainment, under license from B-Boy Records, recently released a 3-CD reissue of Boogie Down Productions' first album "Criminal Minded." I'm enjoying rediscovering this record after so many years - it came out when I was in high school - and one of my favorite things about it has always been how KRS cops Billy Joel's "It's Still Rock & Roll To Me", changes all the words and then rap-sings the song as he taunts the Brooklyn hip-hop scene.

When I first bought my own copy of "Criminal Minded" I was baffled to discover it contained only instrumental versions of the songs. One of my best friends had the record, and hers had all the lyrics. I even checked to make sure there wasn't something wrong with my turntable, studied the album cover for clues suggesting why my copy was different, but remained unenlightened. I very vaguely remember hearing at some point that because of some dispute between KRS-ONE and B-Boy Records, the album had been re-released, but without the vocals. So I shrugged it off and continued listening to the album on the cassette I made of my friend's copy. Not a DJ at the time, what use would I have had for an instrumental rap record?

A few years after high school, several apartments and roomates later, I discovered that my copy of "Criminal Minded" had suddenly developed vocal tracks! I was mystified! Was this some kind of metaphysical miracle, achieved by half a decade of standing, overlooked, between Blondie and the Boomtown Rats? Was I crazy? Or just retarded? Had my "Criminal Minded" had vocals on it all along, and I just wasn't listening closely enough?

It took me until recently to guess that the disappearance of my vinyl copy of A Tribe Called Quest's first album, "People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Wisdom", and the spooky acquisition of vocals by my instrumental BDP record, were probably connected and most likely the work of a former roomate who also does a radio show. I was listening one day and was amused to hear him use the very instrumentals as his music bed. He must have switched his BDP record for mine. It seems plausible enough...maybe the instro copy was by then a collectible, and somehow the original was not?

I'll always wonder what really happened, but now, I can also have both versions of the album, plus a bonus disc of alternate mixes (including the raunchier, rawer, and much better version of "The P is Free") thanks to the music industry's growing re-release culture. I guess it's nice to know that sooner or later, every record we've ever loved, lost or sold will eventually come back to us in some kind of digital manifestation.

Subs for two weeks

Because of an incredibly secret prior engagement, I will be turning over the reins for two weeks to DJs Lillian (or possibly Rob) and Manos. Since there are so many thousands of you following this blog, please give me your feedback. Were their pants tight enough? Did they slack off, perhaps leaving the top snaps undone, letting their guts hang out? Did they just blow it off entirely, arriving in worn out green sweats and Uggs? Or did they breathe new life into Friday afternoons on WCBN, in the form-fittingest pair of Levi's 511s available? Let me know.

I hope you'll call and harass them on the telephone. You don't call me enough. Usually I am pleased not to have to answer the phone, since I'm busy playing "pong" on faceweb and checking my text-mail. Occasionally, I long for the affirmation that comes with my fleeting chats with you as you call and ask me to play The Offspring. If I could, I would play nothing but Van Halen and Led Zeppelin all afternoon, but unfortunately, the program director is a seething asshole so I can't. Someday I'll start my own radio station just for you all.

I'll be with you this Friday, October first, urging you to go to the free Japanese film at the Askwith auditorium, and the non-free Italian horror film on Saturday at the Michigan Theater. These are things worth doing in Ann Arbor, so I hope you'll take advantage. Then I'll be taking a break to apply for clown school on Fridays, October 8 and 15. See you when I see you.

Pontiac: we build excitement!

I can't help it but every time we drive to Pontiac for a rock & roll show, that 1980s ad jingle runs through my head. Pontiac is so depressing it needs a song like this. Last night we decided we should return to Pontiac in the morning (or just stay overnight) so we could hit this fish fry at a church on one of the state-named streets. The fish fry starts at 11am and goes all day, Thursdays and Fridays! Then on Saturdays, there is a place right downtown where you can get all-you-can-eat pancakes! Then of course there's the pawnshop with a display window that defies description. You have to see it for yourself.

So last night we went to see Shellac at the Crofoot. It's the first time in 15 years I've seen them (unless they were at the Touch & Go party in 2005, but I just can't remember) so it was cool for old time's sake. They look and sound exactly the same, having been crystallized or waxed or whatever back in 1995. They also still do the Q & A between songs. However there were fewer references to Canada and none to ventriloquists, so I guess they were a little different.

No offense if you are a member of Shellac or one of their affiliates- At Action Park is still one of my favorite records and I have nothing but respect for these guys- but blogging is a stupid waste of time anyway, empty chatter that fills up the infinite reaches of interwebspace, so what I'm saying is pretty inconsequential. Why are you even reading this? By the way, if you are, Todd Trainer is too cool for words.

Listen to WCBN-88.3fm in Ann Arbor for a pretty subdued radio station ID from Steve Albini. I don't know what we expected- "Hi there, kiddies, this is your old friend Steve and you're on the air with 88.3 megahertz WCBNFM Ann Arbor! Don't touch that dial or I'll say something really mean!"? Nah, I guess not.

WCBN is transitioning to its Fall schedule so if you're a student and somehow stumbled on this "blog", before you navigate away screaming, read this: we take students and mold them into dorky music snobs free of charge. Join us on Sunday afternoons at 4pm for introductory training in the basement of the Student Activities Building. Go to the WCBN web page for more instructions.

What's new in Tight Pants?

Well, there's this article. But actually, I remember reading this one two years ago, at least, so clearly someone isn't asking AskMen.com enough questions. Let's think of some new ones!

1. Do you consider Zach Braff a role model? What about David Schwimmer?

2. If you answered 'yes' to the previous question, do you think your girlfriend respects you?

3. Do you even have a girlfriend?

4. What kind of underwear do you prefer and why?

5. You do realize these questions (and your responses) are totally insignificant, don't you?

Stay tuned for more nonsense.

The Faux-Hawk

It's probably not even called a faux-hawk any more. They probably have some new name for it. You know what it is: a man cuts his hair a teeny bit shorter on the sides of his head and when he gels up in the morning, with praying hands, he self-consciously shapes the longer part into a crest. When he's done he looks like a chicken. The longer hair sticking up in the middle of his head resembles the far more daring, but every bit as cliche, mohawk, and because it resembles a mohawk but isn't, it is a fake mohawk, or faux (that's French for fake and rhymes with mo) hawk. It's a ridiculous looking style, and it says of its wearer, "I'd like to be more outrageous than I am but I don't dare."

I once cut out of the New Yorker a cartoon of a guy in a barber's chair looking at his new mullet in the mirror and saying to the barber, "no, leave it long in back so I can look like a nincompoop." The mullet, or neckwarmer as we used to call it, is now one of humanity's most reviled hairdon'ts. Anyone who still dares to wear a mullet (it takes balls and/or a complete lack of any sense that it is the 21st century) is guaranteed ridicule by children, strangers, and even old grandmas. Someday we'll look back on the faux-hawk in the same way.

I have to say, there doesn't seem to be any other major men's sport that's as narcissistic as "futbol". I don't actually care much about sports so I'm probably totally wrong. It's one of the only major sports where its players are not required to wear hats or helmets (basketball being the other) so the amount of attention each player seems to pay to his hair is noteworthy. I do like some World Cup action, however, and I can see the faux-hawk is alive and well amongst many of the world's soccer stars. I would prefer to see them all in mullets.

Bring back the neckwarmer!

Mini-Vacation

This Friday, May 28, Sophie will guest DJ on Tight Pants while I travel to Chicago for no apparent reason other than to get out of one burg and into another for Memorial Day weekend. Perhaps I'll head out to see Andre Williams at Schuba's on Saturday night. Maybe I'll check in with Eleventh Dream Day at the Hideout on Sunday. In between, I'm sure I won't go to any record stores, because I really hate records and everything about them. I hate the weight of a big, heavy, old one when you hold it in your hands. I hate wiping it clean before placing the needle into the grooves, which I also hate. I especially hate the totally conceited artwork and reading material that comes inside. These bands actually think you want to know who played on their stupid album and how it was recorded! Sometimes they even have pictures or posters! And lyric sheets that you don't even need to squint to read! And don't even get me started on the seven inch little records with the big holes.

See you next week!

More silly hogwash

There are two principle types of people in the world, and they can basically be sorted with the following questions:



1. Beatles or Stones?

2. Dogs or cats?

3. Analog or digital?

4. Night or day?

5. Chicken or lasagne?



Which one are you?

Bollywood night with WCBN, April 14, 2010

A bunch of people wanted a list of the songs we featured for WCBN's free night in Bollywood, so here they are, in the order in which they were screened! The song title is first followed by the movie name:

Choli Ke Peeche- Khal Nayak (1993)
Mitwa- Lagaan (2001)
Meri Jaan Balle Balle- Kashmir Ki Kali (1964)
Dhoom Taana- Om Shanti Om (2007)
Yeh Dosti- Sholay (1975)
Yaamaa Yaamaa- China Town (1962)
Aasman Se Aaya Farishta- An Evening in Paris (1967)
Mourya Re- Don (2007)
Duniya Mein Rehna Hai To- Haathi Mere Saathi (1971)
Baawre- Luck By Chance (2009)
Dard-e Disco- Om Shanti Om
Ghost Dance- Gupi Gyne Bagha Byne (1968)
Dekhoji Ek Bala- China Town
Dil Usey Do Jo Jaan- Andaz (1971)
Aaj Kal Tere Mere Pyar Ke- Brahmachari (1968)
Aaja Aaja- Teesri Manzil (1966)
Lekar Hum Diwana Dil- Yaadon Ki Baaraat (1973)
Jaan Pehechan Ho- Gumnaam (1965)

Tight Pants soon to be even more annoying

It's Friday. Two posts in one week! This is to make up for the several months I have spent nobly ignoring this "blog".

Today's radio programme will be the last boring one for a while, I hope, because on Sunday the Ann Arbor record fair returns to Weber's on Jackson Rd. Actually, it returns four times a year, but I've been so broke for the past year I have avoided it. This Sunday I have taken half a day off from my job, where I work, in order to fill my old messenger bag with as many 25-cent 7" little records as it can hold. I suppose I might browse the LPs as well, but greater variety is assured with the 45s.

TTFN. I have to go crank-call my job on my day off.

Blogging really is silly.

OK OK, I will try harder. It's the same as a diary, man. Sometimes you feel like writing in it, but usually you don't.

Tonight (as if anyone was reading this "blog") WCBN presents a collage- no, a compilation- of song & dance scenes from movies of the Indian subcontinent. I personally spent innumerable hours of my time scanning innumerable Bollywood films for exciting musical scenes, and then innumerable hours importing them into iMovie (the only program we have that will do this, I guess) and innumerable more transforming it into a compilation that flows and plays on a regular DVD player.

Not being a Mac expert, I was not able to produce as good a result as I had envisioned, but hopefully no one else will really notice all the imperfections. You'll all enjoy the show, drink beer, and clap when it's done.

WCBN's free night at the movies is the second Wednesday of every month at Arbor Brewing Company. It starts around 9pm and there's no charge at the door. Hope to see you there.

-Kristin

Jay Reatard died on Wednesday, but I won't make a big deal out of it or launch some big tribute show today. Nick already covered that ground yesterday. Maybe when we hear more details about the tragedy- what killed him at 29, for example- we'll revisit it. Most people presume drugs for someone that young, and I always go through this stage of denial where I say, no, he was too cool, he wouldn't be so lame as to kill himself accidentally by drowning in a puddle of puke or suffering heart failure induced by overconsumption of cocaine and pills. But what would be more reassuring? Certainly not a heart attack before 30.

The Power of College Radio

Friday, September 11

College radio is not a high-tech operation. Most DJs are alone in the studio, picking records & CDs, cueing them up, previewing them to see if they'll transition well from the last song, and all the while keeping track of the songs so they can tell you once in a while what you've been listening to.

All that can go to hell in a heartbeat if you have a skipping record or an unexpected guest or malfunctioning equipment or a long-winded phone caller. With experience and imagination, disaster may be averted or transformed to triumph.

Cue Inki's Buttcrack (Rapeman): A 7 inch little record with a big hole, released in 1989 on SubPop as a limited edition installment to their monthly singles club, (posted on this blog). I am lucky enough to have one of these, but it's warped, with a visible curl turning up the edge of the record.

I'd never had a problem playing it though, until yesterday. It seemed like a good idea to open the show with it- it is instrumental, has this slow buildup that you can talk over, and then morphs into a righteous ear-boxing of a song. But because of a very minor (and fixable) technical problem, the intro to the show was practically derailed by the needle jumping up and down and refusing to stay in the grooves.

Perhaps it was the radio gods' intention to throw us a curveball yesterday. I was training a new DJ who was thus able to learn three things: always have a backup thing you can put on, such as a PSA about strokes; needles sometimes are mounted to the cartridge at an angle by careless persons before you so you have to twist them to stop the plastic riding the vinyl and jumping over the warps; and the counterweight on the tone arm can be pushed up to 3.5 to force the needle to sit more heavily on uncooperative records.

Of course, some records are just beyond salvation, but yesterday, things worked out just fine. Listen to it for yourself here.

What the hell is Tight Pants?

Not to be confused with current legwear trends, the Tight Pants radio show was named after the Stooges song of the same name- the one which became Shake Appeal once Raw Power was sufficiently sanitized for the public.

Tight Pants doesn't purport to be strictly a rock'n'roll show, but it often is and most listeners seem to appreciate it for that reason. I like to think of it as "Music for Barfights" or like "Soundtrack for Smashing Whiskey Bottles While Standing on Tables and Throwing Chairs." If you listen to the show, you probably have your own description. Feel free to post it below.

Tight Pants made its debut in January, 2006 on a podunk radio station in a cowboy-cum-old hippie town out west. I grew up listening to college radio but was under the mistaken impression that a person had to be a music expert or like wicked popular in the scene or something in order to get a show on a good station like WMBR. It was mostly true that you had to be a student at most of the other colleges to get shows. So I never did radio in my youth beyond the occasional visit to a friend's radio show.

Then I lived overseas for a long time, and then I came back to go to grad school and became consumed by this urge to do a radio show. WCBN was really pivotal in bringing me to UM-Ann Arbor, but before relocating, I shacked up at a relative's for a few months, so Tight Pants was first unleashed onto the unsuspecting public of aforementioned old hippie town. I don't think anybody listened to it. I sure hope they didn't.

Inaugural Post

I applied for what could have been a cool job recently, and one of the questions the bossman asked was, did I maintain a blog? Mildly incredulous, I responded that I had enough work to do without adding to it with something as frivolous as a blog. Apparently that wasn't the right answer. I did not get the job, and that wasn't the only reason either, but here goes...a blog for the program which airs on WCBN every Friday from 3:00-5:30pm. This show is Tight Pants. Welcome.

Tight Pants Archives

2012

Friday, February 24. Sooo many Buzzcocks. PLAYLIST! LISTENNN!!

Friday, February 17. SECOND SHOW OF WCBN 2012 FUNDRAISER. PLAYLIST! GET DOWN! This 150 minutes brought in $800.

Friday, February 10. FIRST DAY OF WCBN 2012 FUNDRAISER. PLAYLIST! GET UP! This 150 minutes brought in $500.

Friday, February 3. Put on your brobes. PLAYLIST!
Take off your pants.

Friday, January 27. Exhausted! PLAYLIST!
Caffeinate!

Friday, January 20. On fire! PLAYLIST!
Burn!

Friday, January 13. Screeam! PLAYLIST!
Yow!

Friday, January 6. Interrupt the DJ! see hear

2011

Friday, December 30. Tally ho, 2011, you were a great year and a horrible year all rolled into one. see hear

Friday, December 23. Say it, don't spray it! see hear

Friday, December 16. O'Ding on caffeine before radio is not a very good idea. see listen for yourself

Friday, December 9. You got to lose. You can't win all the time. Also, heavy metal. see lose it!

Friday, December 2. Flesheaters, DOA, Big Boys and the Black Flag. see hit it!

Friday, November 25. Ding dong! see come on in!

Friday, November 18. Got a couple goodies from Nortonfest 2011.see hear

Friday, November 11. Definitely out of town on this day. Click this archive for very not-tight pants.hear

Friday, November 4. see hear

Friday, October 28. hear

Friday, October 21. hear

Friday, October 14. hear

Friday, October 7. Bye bye Cleetus.see hear

Friday, September 30. hear

Friday, September 23 . hear

Friday, September 16. hear

Friday, September 9. hear

Friday, September 2. hear

Friday, August 26. More new wave! see hear

Friday, August 19. Bye bye Spooky. see hear

Friday, August 12. Flipper! Fuck you!

Friday, August 5. hear

Friday, July 29. hear

Friday, July 22. hear

Friday, July 15. heat

Friday, July 8. hear

Friday, July 1. beer

Friday, June 24. rear

Friday, June 17. queer

Friday, June 10. fear

Friday, June 3.hear

Friday, May 27. I might have been out of town for this. hear

Friday, May 20. listen, commentary coming later...much later.

Friday, May 13. So hot. look listen"

Friday, May 6. Training DJ Ant. look listen

Friday, April 29. RIP Poly Styrene. look listen

Friday, April 22. Earf Day. look lsiten

Friday, April 8. OMNI INFLUX!

Friday, April 1. Lightning Strikes!

Friday, March 25. More fucking Chuck Berry!

Friday, March 18. Give us your money, 2 More Chuck Berry!

Friday, March 11. Give us your money, 1 Chuck Berry!

Friday, March 4. slushaite

Friday, February 25. escuchate

Friday, February 18. In solidarity with college radio out of San Francisco, Tight Pants joins a nationwide simulcast of KUSF in exile.

Friday, February 11. first week in new job

Friday, February 4. whoa!

Friday, January 28. listen

Friday, January 21. listen

Friday, January 14. listen

Friday, January 7. listen