When I was growing up I didn’t hear much I liked on the radio. And I disliked so much of what I did hear that I preferred not to have the radio on.
Buying music was also tricky. You couldn’t listen to records before buying them in our small town music store. And if you had been allowed to, I probably would have felt too self-conscious. Suppose you try a few records — and you don’t like any of them? The music store is in business. They want you to buy stuff. I couldn’t afford to buy more than one record every few months. Besides, there would have been other people — other kids, probably — who would have been waiting to use any listening station.
In any case, there wasn’t a listening station. So my brother and I had to judge music by the album covers. Our eyes were caught by the sci fi style of Boston, for instance. Actually spinning the record once it was home — no. I kind of liked parts of Boston songs, but the music had nothing on the guitar spaceships album art. When I did find an artist I liked, it made sense to buy more by them. A buddy turned us on to ABBA and to ELO. Over time I lost interest in ELO — not that there isn’t ELO I still like. ABBA wore a groove in my head. Yet there had to be a world beyond ABBA.
My brother David made friends who listened to stuff a bit outside the late-70s mainstream. Thus he brought home Talking Heads, whose music intrigued and irritated me in equal measure. David Bowie, ditto.
I remember in a class in high school (1980? 81?) we pushed our chairs into a circle and did a get-to-know-you intro. You were supposed to say a couple things about yourself, like what music you liked. When my turn came around I said, “I don’t like music.” This drew shocked reactions and some protests. I hadn’t liked any of the music my classmates named. In my experience there was no genre that made me happy. I liked individual songs, whatever boxes they were supposed to fit in. I liked my mother’s folk songs — but not all of them, that’s for sure. I liked very little country music, very little disco, very little rock.
If you put those little bits all together maybe you’d get a decent mix tape or two. Which would have been a nice thing to be able to do.
There were San Francisco radio stations that probably would have interested my ears, but their signals weren’t strong enough to be received in Sebastopol. MTV launched in 1981. We couldn’t afford to subscribe.
I stayed up late to watch some video compilation shows on broadcast television and finally in New Wave found a genre that didn’t annoy more frequently than it pleased.
By the time I was attending junior college, SF’s KITS had switched its format from Top 40 to “Modern Rock,” or New Wave / Post Punk, synths, jangly guitars. I would listen while doing my homework. And I was regularly going to Santa Rosa where there was a good record store called, helpfully, The Last Record Store. The Last Record Store featured used records, and a lot of the used records were recent. So, without breaking the bank, I could try out artists I knew by only a song or two.
KITS (now calling itself LIVE 105) offered listeners an opportunity to get their playlist. I sent a self-addressed stamped envelope and got what you see above.
Clearing out a box of papers during the covid-19 shutdown I unfolded the playlist and smoothed it out. Yes, I recognized most of the songs. Some I loved. But even those I didn’t care for didn’t make me want to rush to turn off the radio.
The accessibility of music these days is entirely different from when I was a kid. Pretty cool that I can do quick internet searches and turn up any song on this list. What I loved back then, I followed up on back then. Other songs have provided a hit of nostalgia, without my wanting to add them to my music library. “The Great Commandment” by Camouflage; “Voyage Voyage” by Desireless. But I could now! If I wanted.
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