In the coming weeks we celebrate the holidays in full indie music style — is that really a thing? On Tuesday, December 17th we will be playing new, classic, and cover holiday songs on the show. Another year has come and gone. Can anyone else believe that we have been doing this for at least fourteen years, sheesh time does pass fast!
Indie holiday music is like that stray cat you take in—scrappy, scruffy, full of attitude, but somehow comforting. It’s the sound of bells and lo-fi drum beats weaving through a haze of reverb and melancholy, like a cold winter’s night painted in pastel hues. Forget those sugar-coated carols, these songs are the unsung heroes of the season, cloaked in irony, aching for connection amidst the forced cheer. They’ve got that off-kilter honesty, a rawness that refuses to conform to the Hallmark image of Christmas. It’s a quiet rebellion, but hell, it’s also really kind of beautiful.
We know that there is a lot of stress during the holidays with all the planning, shopping, and whatever else we are told to do during the holiday season. Well, we believe that any task goes better with music. So, pour yourself the ‘Nog, eat a cookie or three and let us help you relax with some great indie holiday music. If you have a suggestion for a cool holiday tune, let us know on drjytaa on the gmail!
Dr. J can’t wait to co-host the 14th Annual Indie Holiday Radio Show on WUDR Flyer Radio 99.5/98.1’s Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative with our good friend and frequent guest on the program, Tom Gilliam, who always brings some interesting holiday music to the mix. And as always, the talented Mrs Dr. J has made many a fine contribution to the show as well! You expect nothing less.
This year you have two chances to hear the indie holiday festivities! The first broadcast is on Tuesday, December 17th from 3-6 PM. Listen on 99.5 FM in Dayton, Ohio, USA, or stream the broadcast at wudr.udayton.edu. And if that was not enough we load the show into Mixcloud! You can listen on Wednesday at our Mixcloud page! We just can’t wait to play new and classic indie holiday songs for you. Save us some of the ‘nog.
Every year, like clockwork, the music world implodes into its annual rite of passage: the “Best of” lists. It doesn’t matter whether we need them or not. We could all be listening to something that absolutely shreds, some obscure record that deserves reverence. Still, here we are, obsessing over arbitrary rankings, as if these lists will unlock some divine, objective truth. It is as if, somehow, this tiny, self-appointed cult of critics, bloggers, and tastemakers can distill the whole sprawling mess of 365 days of music into neat little categories that tell you what was really good.
It’s a bit comical, really. These lists are nothing more than trendy cultural currency, an exercise in opinion policing. As if, come December, we all need some authority to tell us what albums we should have liked. Sure, there are some gems in those Top 10s, some records that hit like a lightning bolt, that maybe wouldn’t have been discovered without the almighty guidance of Pitchfork or Rolling Stone. But let’s not kid ourselves – the list itself is a product, a marketing tool, another algorithm feeding on your desire for validation. The music may be real, but the rankings? Please.
Every December, the ritual plays out like a predictable drama: the same predictable indie hits, the same half-baked arguments, the same flavor-of-the-month that gets hyped until the world collectively shrugs and moves on. It’s all just noise. And yet, we devour it like it’s gospel, eagerly waiting for the validation that maybe, just maybe, our choices are “correct.” But here’s the thing: music is personal. These lists? They’re just noise. It’s time we recognize them for what they are: empty, meaningless packaging for a world that’s forgotten how to just listen.
And with all that said, we do an annual show featuring several hours of bands, musicians, songs and albums that impressed the hell out of us. But not going to make some silly rank order, just a bunch of songs that we thought were incredible. So, yeah if this is a bit speaking from both sides of the mouth, so be it.
Our YTAA Faves of 2024 show includes music from many excellent musicians, such as Tamar Berk, Wussy, Palm Ghosts, Nada Surf, Waxahatchee, MJ Lenderman, JD McPherson, Jeremy Porter, Former Champ, Jason Benefield, J. Robins, Dreamjacket, David Payne, Bad Bad Hats, Bike Routes, Brian Wells, The Campbell Apartment, Amy Rigby, The Armoires, Librarians With Hickeys, Bottlecap Mountain, Liv, The Popravinas, The Nautical Theme, Smug Brothers, The Cure, The Reds, Pinks & Purples, The Umbreallas, Nick Kizirnis, Guided By Voices, and The English Beat and The Tragically Hip re-releases.
So, if this is just another end-of-the-year ritual that nobody needs but everybody wants, then maybe it is worthwhile as a way to share some of the music that deserves to be heard.
Let’s get something straight from the jump: independent radio—college stations, community stations, those hissing, crackling signals of barely legal wattage—are more than relics. They’re lifelines, and in a world drowning in curated blandness, they’re salvation that is desperately needed. Sure, you’ve got your algorithmic playlists and big-budget streaming platforms that can spit out the sonic equivalent of a hamburger combo meal, but let me ask you this: when’s the last time one of those songs on the apps and services truly blew your mind? When’s the last time a Spotify playlist made you feel something raw, something real, something alive?
Enter the humble, often-overlooked world of independent radio. These stations don’t play by the rules and thank God for that. College and community DJs who aren’t bound by focus groups or corporate overlords telling them which ten songs to cycle endlessly. They’re the anarchists of the airwaves, throwing down pop punk at 3 a.m., jazz fusion at noon, and some spoken-word poetry over ambient noise just because they can. They’re the kid in the back of the record store who’ll tell you that the B-side of a 7” pressed in someone’s basement in 1984 will change your life—and they’re right. Forgive me if this sounds trite or self-serving, but we believe in the power of music to change your life.
This is radio as it was meant to be: unpolished, unpredictable, and unafraid to go weird. College radio, especially, is often powered by the most crucial demographic for musical discovery—students who don’t yet know the rules they’re breaking. These DJs are sometimes just learning what it means to piece together a playlist, to tell a story in 20-minute sets, to unearth that obscure track nobody else has heard of. It’s raw, and it’s beautiful because it’s real.
And let’s not forget the community stations—the hyper-local powerhouses keeping neighborhoods and subcultures alive. These aren’t just radio shows; they’re conversations. They’re where you tune in to hear the pulse of your city, the heartbeat of your neighbors. It’s where activists and artists collide, where voices ignored by the mainstream get a microphone. It’s radio as rebellion, as resistance, as a refuge from the overpowering heavy challenges we all face.
Here’s the thing the big media conglomerates and tech giants don’t want you to realize: not everything should be convenient. Finding great music—or a great anything—takes work. It takes passion. That’s what makes it matter. Independent radio doesn’t spoon-feed you the hits; it hands you a map, points vaguely in a direction, and says, “Go get lost.” And in that wandering, you discover magic. You stumble across a DJ spinning a 10-minute opus made by an area band or a live set from some local group that sounds like they’re playing from the edge of the world. And you want to go there so you can be part of it.
In an era where everything feels like it’s been prepackaged, sanitized, and optimized for maximum engagement, independent radio stands as a glorious middle finger to the machine. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, and it’s alive in ways that nothing else in the modern media landscape can touch even thought they try to say that experimentation came from them.
What’s more, independent radio matters because it’s often the training ground for the voices we’ll be listening to in 10, 20, or 30 years. Think about all the media icons who got their start in college radio. Two words: Howard Stern. Ever heard of Rick Rubin? He was just some punk kid spinning records at NYU before founding Def Jam. Or Ira Glass, who honed his storytelling chops on the airwaves before becoming public radio’s golden boy. The indie stations are incubators for talent because they’re places where experimentation isn’t just allowed—it’s expected.
And don’t let anyone tell you radio is dead. Sure, the format’s shifted, and the big commercial stations are shells of their former selves, but indie radio persists because it’s adaptable. College stations now stream online, bringing their wild, untamed ethos to a global audience. Community stations podcast their shows, extending their reach far beyond the low-powered transmitter on the roof.
But more than that, indie radio matters because it’s personal. It’s not just about the music—it’s about the human connection. There’s something deeply comforting about hearing another person on the other end of the signal, someone who isn’t trying to sell you something, someone who’s just as excited about this obscure Brazilian psych-rock track as you are now that you’ve heard it. It’s a reminder that music isn’t just content—it’s communion.
And yeah, maybe it’s a little romantic to wax poetic about this scrappy corner of the media world. Maybe it’s easier to dismiss it as nostalgia for a pre-streaming era. But dismissing indie radio is to dismiss the very soul of music, the thing that makes it matter in the first place. It’s the idea that art doesn’t have to be perfect, that it doesn’t have to be profitable, that it can just be.
So the next time you’re scrolling through an endless stream of playlists that all sound the same, do yourself a favor: tune in to the static. Find the frequency where some over-caffeinated college kid is ranting about a new band you’ve never heard of, or where a local DJ is spinning records in a tiny room plastered with band posters and graffiti. Listen with your whole heart, and remember what it feels like to discover.
Because independent radio isn’t just a medium—it’s a movement. And in a world that desperately wants you to settle for the lowest common denominator, it’s the one place still daring to reach higher.
Let me tell you something about Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative with Dr. J on WUDR, broadcasting from the unassuming outpost of Dayton, Ohio: it’s not just a radio show; it’s a séance for the musically restless. Dr. J, equal parts professor (sorry), music priest, and punk-rock lifer, orchestrates a sonic sermon that grabs you by the collar and drags you kicking, screaming, and grinning through the unpolished spaces of independent and local music.
This isn’t your prepackaged corporate playlist drivel, churned out by some algorithm. No, this is real-deal, deep-dive, bloodshot-eye curation. We don’t just play songs; we conduct a reckless, unhinged exploration of soundscapes that defy the mainstream’s sterilized borders. One minute you’re grooving to the jangly guitars of a Midwest indie gem; the next, you’re pummeled by fuzz-soaked shoegaze or swept away by a tender acoustic ballad. It’s a rollercoaster for your ears, and you’re strapped in tight for the ride.
The show’s strength lies in its refusal to compromise. We are not here to appease Spotify metrics or chase TikTok trends. We pride ourselves on digging into the marrow of what makes music vital: the stories, the sweat, and the imperfections that turn a song into a revelation. Local bands? We’ve got them. Overlooked gems? You bet. It’s a treasure map to sounds you didn’t know you needed but now can’t imagine living without.
Sure, the production’s raw, the format loose, but that’s part of the charm. A little nerdy? You betcha! It feels like you’re eavesdropping on a record store conversation in town. If music is a lifeline, Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative is one of the buoys that keeps us from drowning in the sea of mediocrity. Dayton might be criminally overlooked, but we strive to ensure it’s never unheard of.
Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative is still on hiatus as we move from ArtStreet to the Roger Glass Performing Arts Center. Let’s be honest, moving sucks. It is simply awful. Moving is often considered one of life’s most daunting tasks, a process laden with stress, exhaustion, and emotional upheaval. The mere thought of packing up one’s life — or in this case an entire radio station — and relocating to a new place can send shivers down the spine of even the most resilient among us. Several factors contribute to the universally acknowledged sentiment that moving is an awful experience.
Firstly, the physical exertion involved in moving is undeniable. From the moment one begins to sift through CDs, vinyl records, and cassettes (yup, we have some of those), rolling up posters, and packing away fragile equipment so it can safely be moved is daunting. It does not feel unlike going through belongings, deciding what to keep and what to discard, to the arduous task of packing fragile items with the utmost care, the process demands a considerable amount of physical energy. Lifting heavy boxes (damn, these records are heavy!), navigating through narrow hallways (you have seen the pictures of the station), and loading and unloading furniture can take a toll on the body, leaving movers fatigued and drained. And remember all of the equipment is incredibly sensitive and expensive! “Do not drop anything!” is a repeated refrain.
Moreover, the emotional toll of moving cannot be overstated. Leaving behind familiar surroundings, our Artstreet friends, and changing the routines can evoke a profound sense of loss and nostalgia. The attachment to a place goes beyond the physical structure of a house; it encompasses memories, experiences, and a sense of belonging. Saying goodbye to all of this can be emotionally wrenching, leading to a mix of sadness, anxiety, and apprehension about the unknown that lies ahead for the station. I wrote about this and stand behind those ideas and memories. Leaving a space that was home for over 20 years is simply not easy.
The logistical challenges add another layer of complexity to the moving process. Coordinating timelines, arranging transportation, and dealing with unforeseen hiccups can turn a seemingly straightforward relocation into a logistical nightmare. The pressure to ensure that every item arrives intact at the new station destination in a brand new building, coupled with the need to settle into an unfamiliar environment quickly, amplifies the stress associated with moving. Of course, we want to be preparing a radio show today instead of moving an incredibly sensitive studio board!
Sure, moving is an inherently challenging and unpleasant experience due to the physical, emotional, and logistical demands it places on us. The disruption of established routines, the strain on relationships, and the overall upheaval of one’s life make moving a universally dreaded endeavor. We can’t even listen to the station unless we set up a laptop or bring in a radio because studio speakers were among the first to get disconnected. While it may signify a new beginning and the prospect of fresh opportunities, the process itself is undoubtedly an arduous journey that tests one’s resilience, adaptability, and good nature.
Perhaps this is just a long meandering path to say, YTAA will not be on this week. Moving is going forward and we are making progress, just a bit slower than any of us would like. We will be back broadcasting the show as soon as possible. Automation has taken over the radio station and during December we are broadcasting indie holiday music! Enjoy and see you real soon!
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