“Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative,” hosted by Dr. J on WUDR Flyer Radio has been around for almost 20 years now! I try to offer an eclectic mix of indie, local, and alternative music that appeals to both dedicated fans and curious newcomers. I try to balance both well-known and emerging artists, providing listeners with a blend of what we hope are fresh discoveries alongside some familiar sounds that keep each episode engaging.
One of our show’s unique aspects is the passion for showcasing local and regional artists, particularly from the Dayton area, giving exposure to the rich musical talent often overlooked by mainstream outlets. Shame on them! I hope that our enthusiasm shines through, as we weave in anecdotes about the bands and tracks we play. This is meant to create a deeper connection to the music. We strive for passion but also for a laid-back, conversational tone that allows listeners to feel as though they’re joining a friend who’s sharing their latest musical finds. Because, in truth, that is what I do every week.
This time of the year every music writer’s fancy turns to the ubiquitous quest for the best of/favorites of the year. We start with a list of albums and singles we played on YTAA at least three or four times. Then we consider what songs and records slipped into our consciousness and we spent more time simply thinking about that song, that album — those words. If there is a pattern to what we loved in 2023, it is a bit hard to pin down. If we take a wild stab at an answer, 2023 was a year of amazing music from powerful, strong, thoughtful women musicians. From the incredible voice of Sarah Rudy in Hello June to the authenticity of Kim Ware and Van Plating across to the irresistible guitar tones and perfect singing of Tamar Berk, Blondshell, Beth Bombara, and Lydia Loveless, so many outstanding records were made outside of the men’s club this past year — and that is a welcome change.
Every writer, just like every music fan, has styles and sounds that they are irresistibly pulled towards. Clearly, Dr. J loves guitar. For some writers the list is likely to be diverse, reflecting a fusion of genres and innovative production techniques. And that is fine. With the continued influence of technology, some writers are drawn to artists who experimented with new sounds and collaborate across musical boundaries, creating a sonic outcome that resonates. For other writers, the search for a pure direct authenticity of instruments lead them to the streets where the music is painted without electronics. Acoustic and stripped down arrangements played on traditional equipment bring gratitude to the heavens for that music from some writers.
When crafting a list of favorites from the year, some writers will consider representation. Genres such as indie pop, electronic, and hip-hop may continue to dominate, with emerging artists bringing fresh perspectives and pushing creative boundaries. Collaborations between mainstream and indie artists could lead to unexpected yet captivating musical experiences. Shoegaze, for example, has made many returns after some commentators spilled tremendous amounts of ink over the idea that shoegaze had come and gone. Music in the year 2023 saw several bands who represented that style.
Lyrically, many of the themes explored in 2023 revolve around social issues, personal growth, feeling whatever the artist needs or desires to feel, perhaps some of the “Best” representations for the year are the songs that grab and do not let go of the human experience. Artists may use their platforms to address pressing matters, providing listeners with thought-provoking content that goes beyond mere entertainment and that might be the magic that some writers are drawn to when considering all the records and songs that came out during one trip around the sun.
There are some ‘off limits,’ ‘don’t walk on the grass’ ideas for us here at Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative. Sure, the rise of virtual and augmented reality experiences may revolutionize the way music is consumed, offering immersive and interactive performances that redefine the traditional concert experience. But for us, human beings need to be part of the creation and experience of music. Streaming platforms might incorporate cutting-edge technologies to enhance the listener’s engagement with the music and while we can and should debate the lack of compensation, which is only going to get more challenging in 2024, AI generated melodies, tones, and arrangements of notes are not considered for inclusion on our favorites of the past year.
The best albums of 2023 could be those that not only showcase exceptional musical talent but also tell compelling stories or provide a unique perspective on the world. Artists who successfully blend innovation with authenticity may find themselves at the forefront of critical acclaim and commercial success and, to be entirely transparent, will immediate draw our attention for a favorites of the year.
Ultimately, the best music of 2023 will likely be a subjective experience, as individual tastes vary widely. However, it is important to consider this a reflective exercise. Every year is poised to be an exciting time for music enthusiasts, with a plethora of sounds and styles to explore, pushing the boundaries of what we thought possible in the world of music. Every year is full of promise. No annual march of the calendar is without merit and new experiences. So, to create a list of the music that moved you in 2023, is not to close the door to new auditory love but to remember we break our hearts so we can fall in love again with songs and albums we have not even heard yet.
The list below is our start on our favorites from this past year. A longer set of articles will come out exploring what it was that caught our attention in these albums and songs.
This music transcends time and place, resonating with listeners in their quest for meaning and understanding. The lyrics serve as a mirror, reflecting the innermost thoughts and emotions that often remain unspoken. Hello June’s “Artifacts” is a sonic masterpiece — and we are prepared to die on that hill to defend that assertion — that deserves a place in the hearts of all music fans. It is a timeless record that captures the essence of the human experience, a treasure chest of emotions waiting to be discovered with each listen.
In no particular order of importance but records that we believe were mightily impressive:
The 1984 Draft – Best Friends Forever
The Replacements – Tim Let It Bleed Edition (Ed Stasium Mix)
Tamar Berk – Tiny Injuries
Smug Brothers – In The Book of Bad Ideas
Elephants and Stars – Get Your Own Army
The Nautical Theme – Get Somewhere
Palm Ghosts – I Love You, Burn in Hell
Van Plating – Orange Blossom Child
Lydia Loveless – Nothing is Gonna Stand In My Way Again
Kim Ware – Homely
Bottlecap Mountain – O Fantastik Melancholy
Beth Bombara – It All Goes Up
Nicholas Johnson – Shady Pines Vol. 2
The Pretty Flowers – A Company Sleeve
The Connells – Ring (Deluxe Edition)
Black Belt Eagle Scout – The Land, The Water, The Sky
Blondshell – Blondshell
Achilles Tenderloin – Tincture for Trouble
Mike Bankhead – I Am Experienced
Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit – Weathervanes
Some of our Favorites of 2023:
Arthur Alexander – …Steppin’ Out!
Mommy – Be Your Own Pet
Frankie Rose – Love as Projection
Cold Expectations – Static Reactions
Connections – Cool Change
The Connells – Set The Stage
Dolph Chaney – Mug
En Attendant Anna – Principia
Graham Parker & The Golden Tops – Last Chance to Learn the Twist
Guided By Voices – Nowhere to Go But Up/Welshpool Frillies
H.C. McEntire – Every Acre
Jess Williamson – Time Ain’t Accidental
John P. Strohm – Ready for Nothing
Jphono1 – Invisible Futures and Make Believe Pasts
Louise Post – Sleepwalker
Love Rat – Howl at the Moon
Matt Moran – Heartache Kid (Acoustic)
The Radio Field – Don’ts and Do’s
Shannon Clark & The Sugar – This Old World
Special Friend – Selkie
Tino and DJ Marrrtin – La Pie Bavarde
Trapper Schoepp – Siren Songs
Singles
No One Sphere – Fingerz to Lips
Elephants and Stars – Bled Out At The Scene
David Payne – Best Intentions
We Met In Paris – Mont Blanc Massif
The National – Eucalyptus
sparkle_jets uk – He’s Coming Out
The Well Wishers – So Important
Tod Weidner – Raising Pain
Mike Bankhead – Latent
Given Names – Makin’ Eyes
Cowboys in The Campfire – Here We Go Again
Teenage Fanclub – Foreign Land
Hannah Jadagu – Lose
High on Stress – Over-Thru
Jeremy Porter and the Tucos – Five-Foot-Three and Tiger Eyes
In the digital streaming age where we all have instant access to an unparalleled variety of music — at least for now, it may seem paradoxical to consider the existence of unheard records. With thousands of records released every year and thousands of songs uploaded to streaming services every week, the sheer amount of available music is overwhelming. The vastness of the musical releases, coupled with the continuous influx of new creations and the persistent legacy of past works, results in an overwhelming number of records that remain unheard each year. Let’s delve into the reasons behind this phenomenon, exploring the factors contributing to the vast pool of undiscovered musical gems and considering the implications for both artists and listeners.
One of the strengths of music culture is the unending craft of music creation. The United States has long been a melting pot of diverse cultures, each contributing to the fantastic mix of musical genres and styles. From the birth of jazz in New Orleans to the rise of hip-hop in the Bronx, to the adventure of electronic music across the country, American music has evolved and branched out into an extraordinary array of forms. This constant evolution, driven by creativity and cultural cross-pollination, ensures a continuous influx of new records into the musical ecosystem.
The music industry, with its multifaceted nature, encompasses not only mainstream genres but also a plethora of incredible niche and independent scenes. While popular artists dominate the radio airwaves and streaming platforms, countless talented musicians operate in the peripheries, creating music that often goes unnoticed by the mainstream audience which we consider a distressing fact — and a mission of Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative to address. YTAA as a radio show always focused on independent, local and amazing music that needs to be heard.
The expansive musical universe, we all inhabit, ensures that a considerable number of records go unheard each year simply due to the sheer volume of new releases and a cultivated ignorance of the mainstream record labels to push a limited number of artists and records, and a continuation of a narrowcasting approach by radio and streaming services. Consider Spotify’s financial model focusing on records that have high sales and high engagement. And this problem — and we think of the situation as a problem — is occurring despite an increase in the sales of physical copies of records. According to Oliver Payne, writing at Music Tech.com, “Physical album sales overall also saw a notable rise of 13.3 per cent in 2023, with 41.5 million physical copies sold compared to 2022’s 36.7 million. Notably, direct-to-consumer vinyl sales experienced substantial growth, reaching 2.6 million sales.”
The advent of digital technology and the rise of streaming platforms have revolutionized the way we consume music. It is not unreasonable to think of this as a digital deluge. While this has undoubtedly increased accessibility, it has also contributed to the phenomenon of unheard records. The democratization of music production means that anyone with a creative spark and basic equipment can produce and release music independently. And this opening for musicians is to be applauded and supported so that musicians regardless of reach can create music. Consequently, the sheer volume of music flooding online platforms can be overwhelming, making it challenging for even the most dedicated music enthusiasts to sift through the multitude of releases. An amazing song or incredible record can fall through the proverbial cracks all too easily.
Moreover, as we allude to earlier, the algorithms employed by streaming services often prioritize popular and commercially viable tracks, relegating many lesser-known gems to obscurity. As a result, artists operating outside the mainstream are faced with the daunting task of breaking through the digital noise to capture the attention of potential listeners. This digital deluge, while providing unprecedented opportunities for artists to share their work, also contributes to the growing pool of unheard records.
Economic realities and the struggle for visibility in a highly competitive music industry, is a core concern tied to unheard records. The economic considerations play a significant role in determining which records rise to prominence and which remain in relative obscurity. Major record labels, with their considerable resources, can afford extensive marketing campaigns and promotion efforts to elevate their artists into the public eye. Independent and unsigned musicians often face financial constraints that limit their ability and time to invest in promotion. Which assumes that artists are even interested in promotion in a challenging media and advertising environment in the first place. This issue motivated us to have conversations with musicians invested in music promotion on our podcast, Uncool Music Conversations with Andy & Art.
The lack of financial backing can result in talented artists creating exceptional records that languish in the shadows, unable to break into mainstream consciousness. In this context, the economic realities of the music industry contribute to the perpetuation of unheard records, creating a barrier for many artists to achieve the visibility they so richly deserve.
Taste curation, both on an individual and collective level, plays a pivotal role in determining which records gain traction and which fade into uncertainty regardless of how compelling an album or a song is for someone. Individual listeners often gravitate toward familiar genres, artists, or styles, limiting their exposure to a broader spectrum of musical offerings. Additionally, the collective taste of society, shaped by trends and cultural influences, can create a homogenized musical landscape that excludes many innovative and boundary-pushing works. Part of the challenge is encouraging music fans to listen to music that they do not know. Taking a chance on unfamiliar music remains a serious impediment for getting music heard.
Furthermore, the influence of music critics, radio stations, and streaming service playlists can shape public opinion and contribute to the perpetuation of certain genres or artists at the expense of others. This taste curation, while serving as a valuable guide for listeners, can inadvertently lead to the neglect of numerous records that fall outside the established norms.
The existence of unheard records has profound implications for artists, both established and emerging. For established artists, the pressure to conform to market trends and maintain commercial success can stifle experimentation and creativity. This not only limits the artist’s ability to explore new musical territories but also contributes to the saturation of certain genres at the expense of others.
Emerging artists, on the other hand, face the uphill battle of gaining visibility and recognition amid the vast sea of unheard records. The struggle for attention in a crowded digital landscape can be disheartening, and many talented musicians may find themselves overlooked simply due to the fierce competition for audience engagement.
The phenomenon of unheard records is not merely a challenge for individual artists but also has broader implications for the overall diversity and innovation within the space of music. The musical diversity and innovation are limited when all of the attention in music is devoted to just a handful of artists or albums. When a significant portion of the musical output remains undiscovered, the potential for cross-pollination of genres, the emergence of new styles, and the evolution of musical forms is hindered.
Diversity in music is a crucial aspect of cultural expression, reflecting the myriad perspectives and experiences within society. The failure to recognize and appreciate a wide range of musical creations diminishes the richness of the cultural tapestry of music, limiting the potential for innovation and the exploration of new sonic frontiers.
Let’s consider potential solutions and avenues for discovery for a moment. Addressing the issue of unheard records requires a multifaceted approach that involves both industry stakeholders and listeners. Increased support for independent and niche scenes, including financial backing for promotion and distribution, can empower artists who operate outside the mainstream. Streaming platforms can refine their algorithms to better highlight diverse and underrepresented music, ensuring that listeners are exposed to a broader range of offerings. Independent and local labels can and should be embraced and supported! Music fans can contribute to a healthy music ecosystem by supporting local labels! Our area has several independent labels such as Magnaphone Records, Poptek Recs, and Gas Daddy Go.
Supporting local record stores create physical and online spaces where music fans can expand their knowledge and experience of music. A simple solution is to go to these stores and support them. Talk to the staff who work there as they may have amazing recommendations for bands, artists and records that you may not know about yet. We recommend Omega Music, Blind Rage Records, Skeleton Dust Records, Toxic Beauty Records, Shake It Records, Everybody’s Records just to name some of the shops we regularly visit in our area.
Initiatives that celebrate musical diversity, such as festivals, awards, and curated playlists that explore songs beyond popular artists, can play a pivotal role in bringing attention to unheard records. Music enthusiasts can also contribute by actively seeking out and sharing lesser-known works, supporting local scenes, and engaging with a variety of genres to expand their musical horizons. In our city we have several incredible festivals such as Dayton Music Fest, Dayton Porchfest, Holidayton, Dayton Battle of The Bands, Showcase Thursdays at The Yellow Cab Tavern, Dayton Sideshow, and Winterfolk Dayton, again just scratching the surface of music events in the Gem City. Wherever you call home there are likely to be terrific music events where you can explore far more amazing music. Social media platforms and chat rooms where music fans respectfully share music that moves them is another source of information on unheard songs and albums.
The phenomenon of unheard records in the United States is a complex and multifaceted issue, shaped by the interplay of cultural, economic, and technological factors. This is not a concern that is easily resolved. But just because the challenge is difficult does not mean that it is impossible to address. As the music industry continues to evolve, addressing this challenge requires a collective effort from artists, industry stakeholders, and listeners alike. By fostering a culture that values diversity, embraces innovation, and supports independent voices, we can hope to unravel the symphony of unheard records and ensure that the full spectrum of musical creativity finds its audience. Take a chance and listen to something you do not know, it might be the next musical love of your life.
Dayton musician, Jay Madewell passed away unexpected on December 10, 2023 at the age of 51. Jay was not just a passionate music fan and avid record collector but a DJ, fantastic musician, and drummer who contributed to many musical projects in Dayton, Ohio. He had been active in the Dayton music community for well over 30 years where he encouraged many musicians to embark on their own sonic adventures and music-based journeys. His efforts in the legendary Dayton Dirt Collective, the Rock ‘n’ Roll Playdate as well as being an active and adventurous club DJ, hosting several themed nights such as the 1960s-focused Fab Gear, L’80s Night, and others. He was also considered to be the top wedding DJ for local musicians. Jay was involved in far more bands and music projects than can easily be listed here, but to list just a few — Real Lulu, Team Void, Power to the Peephole, Lexo & the Leapers, Dirty/Clean and GeeGee’s Punk Rock All Stars — are all evidence of a profound musical life.
A gathering of friends and family will be held at the Yellow Cab Tavern, 700 E. 4th St, Dayton, OH 45402 from 2-6 PM on Sunday, December 17, 2023 to share stores and memories of Jay.
When Team Void visited Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative, we got to know Jay a little. His enthusiasm, passion for music, amazing drumming, and wry sense of humor were on keen display. It was a pleasure to spend time with him. He had a fascinating charm, easy nature and also decidedly deadly wit, terrific sense of humor and provocative observational skill. Jay was kind and good natured without speaking down to others.
Music has incredible power to cut across the barriers we put up to protect ourselves, the distance of time, and the expanse of place, weaving itself into the fabric of our lives and becoming an integral part of our identity. Often it also becomes part of the experience and sense of a place, music becomes part of how we think about community. For music enthusiasts, the relationship with their favorite musicians goes beyond mere fandom; it is a deeply emotional and personal connection. Music fans wear t-shirts of a loved band or artists not simply to become walking billboards but to illustrate in obvious, perhaps unavoidable fashion, their association with a band, artist, record, tour… whatever connects them in some distant way to the music.
When a beloved musician passes away unexpectedly, the waves of grief that ripple through a community are profound, leaving a deep void that seems impossible to fill in the immediacy of the grief. The shockwave of loss feels personal as if one has lost a member of their family or a dear childhood friend and that feeling is real. It matters. The sudden death of a cherished musician sends a seismic shift through the hearts of friends, colleagues, fans, and others, creating a collective sense of disbelief and sorrow. Unlike other forms of loss, the death of a musician carries a unique weight. Music is the soundtrack to our lives, marking milestones, soothing sorrows, markers of accomplishments, and heightening joys. When a musician unexpectedly departs, it feels as though a part of our own narrative has been abruptly severed, leaving us grappling with an overwhelming sense of emptiness. The intimate connection to something profound and personally meaningful is severed; and that bond cannot be easily repaired or replaced.
Music is a deeply personal experience, often serving as a companion in times of solitude, celebration, sadness, or introspection. The lyrics and melodies of an artist become intertwined with the listener’s memories and emotions. Those who hear the music develop an intimate connection with the artist’s work, feeling as though the musician understands their innermost thoughts and feelings. The unexpected loss of this artistic confidant can be akin to losing a dear friend or mentor who understood without judgement how you feel. That cut is especially acute when the musician is in actuality a friend.
For many, music is more than a form of entertainment; it is a lifeline. The music we listen to is more than mere background noise to many of us, it is a soundtrack to life. Musicians have a unique ability to articulate the human experience, expressing emotions that listeners may struggle to put into words. When an artist passes away, the soundtrack to life is forever altered. The songs that once brought comfort, joy, or solace may now carry a bittersweet resonance, serving as a poignant reminder of an artist’s absence.
In the digital age, social media platforms serve as virtual gathering spaces for fans to collectively mourn the loss of a musician. Social media creates the space for mourning that ripples throughout networks close and those separated and far away. The outpouring of grief on platforms like Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook creates a sense of solidarity among fans, friends, and colleagues who share a deep connection to the artist’s work. Hashtags memorializing the musician trend whether locally or farther afield, amplifying the collective voice of mourning and allowing fans to express their grief in a public forum.
Fans often channel their grief into creating and sharing tributes that celebrate the life and legacy of the departed musician. From fan art and cover performances to heartfelt messages, photos and playlists, these tributes become a way for the community to collectively honor the artist’s impact on their lives. In this shared creative process, fans find solace and a sense of connection with others who are navigating the same turbulent seas of grief. These shared memories and tributes remind us that we are not alone.
The unexpected death of a musician shatters the illusion of immortality that often surrounds artists in the eyes of their fans, colleagues and the wider community. Music has the power to transcend time, and supporters may have envisioned their favorite musician continuing to create and evolve indefinitely. The sudden loss confronts us with the harsh reality of mortality, forcing all of us to grapple with the finite nature of life and fragility of art.
The music we love forms a crucial part of our identity, shaping our tastes, values, and even our sense of self. When a beloved musician dies unexpectedly, fans, friends, and colleagues may experience a profound identity crisis as they navigate a world where the artist’s voice and sound is forever silenced. The process of mourning becomes intertwined with a search for meaning and a reevaluation of one’s own identity without the guiding influence of the departed artist. Whether the contribution would be a song, a sound, a reassuring comment, or a silly joke — that source of comfort is no longer available. In those moments, a community turns to one another to find solidarity, hope and the needed comfort.
As with any form of loss, grieving the death of a beloved musician follows the familiar stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Navigating the stages of grief should not be considered a path to closure but rather a journey in establishing a sense of self and some grasp at understanding amongst the loss. The process is uniquely complex for members of a music community, as each stage is intertwined with the artist’s body of work, their influence on us and the fumbling efforts to come to some form of understanding. Denial may manifest as an unwillingness to accept that the musician will never create new music, while anger may be directed at the unfairness of a life cut short.
Bargaining takes on a unique form as members of a music community may replay “what if” scenarios in their minds, imagining alternative outcomes that would have allowed the musician to continue making music. Depression may settle in as fans grapple with the void left by the artist’s absence, and acceptance becomes a delicate dance between honoring the musician’s legacy and embracing the inevitability of their departure.
While the pain of loss is profound, the legacy of a beloved musician — at any level of experience — endures through their body of work, the contributions to a music community, and the creation of art. Colleagues, fans and friends often find solace in revisiting the artist’s discography, discovering nuances in the lyrics and melodies that take on new meaning in the context of personal and collective grief. The music becomes a bridge between the past and the present, allowing fans to maintain a connection with the artist even in their absence.
Music has always held a special and unique healing force in our lives. In the midst of grief, music has the power to serve as a healing force. Fans may find comfort in the familiar strains of a favorite song, using music as a therapeutic tool to navigate the tumultuous emotions associated with loss. Cover performances by fellow musicians, tribute concerts, sharing of photos, and posthumous releases become cathartic experiences, providing the music community with an opportunity to collectively mourn while celebrating the artist’s enduring impact. The love that they created remains with us if we can only find it and see it.
The death of a beloved musician does not mark the end of a relationship with the artist; rather, it transforms into an enduring bond that transcends a physical realm. Fans continue to carry the torch of the musician’s legacy, introducing their work to new generations and ensuring that the impact of their artistry is not forgotten. In this way, the community becomes the custodian of the artist’s memory, keeping the flame alive through shared stories, photos, traditions, and the perpetuation of the music itself.
The grief experienced by members of a music community when a beloved musician passes away unexpectedly is a complex and deeply personal journey. Music’s profound impact on our lives elevates the loss beyond the realm of simple fandom, creating a unique and enduring connection that transcends time. As music fans and supporters navigate the stages of grief, music becomes a source of solace, a bridge between the past and the present, and a recognition of artistic expression’s enduring power and beauty. While the pain of loss is undeniable, the legacy of a beloved musician lives on through the hearts and ears of those who continue to find comfort, inspiration, and connection in the melodies and lyrics that once emanated from the now-silent stage.
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!
In a dimly lit space of my basement home studio, surrounded by an array of vinyl records, cassette tapes along a small wall, stacks of vintage vinyl 45s, piles of CDs, and an eclectic mix of posters from local and underground shows, I sit hunched over a laptop, ready to embark on music discovery. With a cat on my lap and another nearby, I listen to new songs, local music, and pieces of someone’s heart that they have kindly shared with Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative. This is my sanctuary, the cockpit from which I navigate a vast sea of independent music. As an indie music radio DJ, I’ve made it my mission to curate and broadcast tunes that I believe in, music that resonates beyond the mainstream. There is no shame in loving the music that speaks to you, mainstream or not. But I want to find something new, something unique. Perhaps it is an overwhelming sense of fear of missing out on something incredible, something wonderful that was released and far too few have heard it. Providing a conduit for the amazing music that has gone overlooked has kept me interested in radio for over 19 years at WUDR and for many years prior.
My love affair with indie music began in the smoky corners of obscure spaces, crowded clubs, and hidden venues in Minneapolis in the 1980s. And that interest was heightened in 1983 when I joined KUMM Student Radio at the University of Minnesota at Morris. I had chosen a college a few hours away from home, Herman, Minnesota population 550. My graduation class only had 25 students in it. I was not sure what I wanted to become when I went to college, but I knew one thing quite clearly — I wanted to leave the confines of small-town Minnesota life. The albums that my classmates loved were not my music, they did not feel real and authentic to me. The music that I heard on the few radio stations — mostly country music — did not speak to me nearly as much as the obscure bands and music that I found on late-night TV shows or magazines like The Trouser Press, Cream, and Crawdaddy.
I had a few musically progressive friends and a cousin who was like a brother to me who broadened my music experience. I was exposed to so many unique bands and records by cool friends who introduced me to bands like The Ramones, Big Star, Alice Cooper, R.E.M., early KISS records, The Replacements, The Suburbs, Loud Fast Rules (who later changed their name to Soul Asylum), and Prince. I am still prepared to argue that his first three records were and are brilliant records that fused soul, funk, R&B, pop, and punk. While I enjoyed the British New Wave of Gary Numan and the Romance Wave of Roxy Music, it was Duran Duran who led me to Joy Division, Adam and The Ants, Spandau Ballet, and The Cure. From ‘Planet Earth’ and ‘Girls on Film,’ I found ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart,’ ‘Transmission,’ ‘Ant Music,’ ‘True’ and ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ — I then spent years over Robert Smith’s catalog. I was captivated one late night when David Bowie’s music video for Ashes to Ashes played on some obscure program. It was life-changing and led me to seek out music from Ziggy Stardust in all of his personas and identities.
While others were getting lost in the polished melodies of chart-toppers, I found solace in the raw, unfiltered sounds of independent artists. It wasn’t just about the music; it was about the stories told through the lyrics, the rebellion against conformity, and the genuine passion that fueled every chord, every snap of the drum, every note that was delivered with passion. These sounds and bands were authentic and real to me. I read a story in a music magazine — Melody Maker, New Music Express, Smash Hits… to be completely honest I do not remember — about a band named after a plane, U2, and that eventually led me to their first album ‘Boy’ and that again, led me to be changed. Now, to be fair I was listening to a seriously concerning amount of Pink Floyd, Nick Drake, Television, and Patti Smith. The gateway of The Ramones led to The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Blondie (especially those early records), and more. While I did enjoy some truly strange fascination for some rock and pop groups, I had records and the usual posters on my bedroom walls of Scandal, Rick Springfield, Journey, Styx, Hall & Oates, and a brief fling with The Eagles’ Hotel California and Long Run (that led me to The Flying Burrito Brothers and Graham Parsons — thanks for sharing your records, mom!).
When I got to college, I decided to take this passion to the airwaves, embracing the role of a sonic designer. Armed with a microphone and a collection of gems that I could not wait to share, I set out to carve a niche for myself in the crowded world of radio, one that would champion the unheard and challenge the established norms. It helped tremendously that bands like R.E.M., U2, Ministry, Depeche Mode, Red Rockers, The Cure, and far more than I have the time (or you dear reader – the interest in reading) to recount here were releasing amazing records in the 1980s. The time period of 1983 to 1988 was not only my college years but an amazingly fertile time for what became known as College Rock then was labeled as Alternative or Post-Punk.
It has not always been easy trying to build bridges with the unknown for me. Being an indie music DJ is more than just spinning records or pushing play or fading sounds in and out; it’s about building bridges between artists and listeners. In a world saturated with predictable playlists, my goal is to be a conduit for the undiscovered. I sift through submissions from garage bands in Brooklyn to folk troubadours in the Pacific Northwest, searching for that spark of authenticity that sets them apart. We have a policy at YTAA, anything shared with us gets a listen. And in those perfect moments when we want to hear a song again, that captures our attention when there are so many records to preview, there is magic in the sound waves.
It’s not always about polished production or catchy hooks; it’s about the genuine emotion that reverberates through the music. Each song is a unique brushstroke on the canvas of the YTAA show, painting a sonic landscape that moves beyond the conventional. The thrill of introducing listeners to a hidden beauty, the adrenaline of playing a track that might just become someone’s favorite song – that’s the heartbeat of our radio station. I cannot express how much joy is experienced when someone requests a song we have played or calls the station to ask who was that amazing musician or band that they heard.
In the sprawling landscape of commercial radio, where playlists are often dictated by corporate interests or worse an inhumane algorithm, maintaining independence is a dance on a tightrope. Yet, this dance is the very essence of the existence of Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative and my role as a DJ. There’s a certain liberation in knowing that a YTAA playlist is not dictated by market trends or corporate interests. Sometimes it is an accident of happenstance or from a connection on social media. Whatever the reason, it’s a rebellion against the formulaic, an assertion that there’s value in the unconventional, the unknown, the liminal. I would like to believe that we have built a community of listeners who crave the unexplored, and who trust this program to guide them through sonic places and spaces of undiscovered music.
Behind every track played lies a story – the struggle of an indie artist trying to be heard, the triumphs and tribulations of navigating an industry that often favors the polished over the genuine. It’s not just about the music; it’s about the people who create it. It is a privilege to interview artists whose stories are as compelling as their melodies. From the indie folk singer who busked on street corners to fund her first album to the punk rock trio that converted an abandoned warehouse into a recording studio, each narrative adds depth to the sonic tapestry we weave on the airwaves. These stories resonate with our listeners, connecting them to the music in ways that transcend the superficial. These are real experiences told by real people about the authentic music they have made to present some feelings, emotions, and ideas — the search for solidarity and connection through music is important and it should be protected at all costs.
One of the joys of indie radio is the freedom to be unpredictable. While commercial stations follow rigid playlists curated by algorithms, YTAA revels in the spontaneity of crafting a playlist that mirrors the ebb and flow of emotions. From ethereal dream pop to gritty pop-punk anthems, the playlist is a rollercoaster ride that keeps listeners on the edge of their seats wondering what is coming up next. One of the most exciting experiences in music is when we are surprised.
On YTAA we are not afraid to delve into uncharted territories, juxtaposing genres in a way that challenges preconceived notions. A haunting acoustic ballad might be followed by a raucous electronic track, or a looking-back indie classic creating a musical journey that mirrors the unpredictability of life itself. It’s a sonic adventure that invites listeners to step outside their comfort zones and embrace the diversity of the indie music landscape.
As an indie music DJ, my connection with the audience goes beyond the confines of the radio waves. Social media has become a virtual extension of the studio, a platform where listeners can engage in real-time discussions about the music they love. We endeavor to play as many requests that we receive as possible. Sometimes a request can take the show in a different, unplanned direction, and isn’t that an opportunity? The sense of community that has emerged is a testament to the power of indie music to unite diverse souls under a common sonic umbrella. It has been a rare honor to connect with other music fans on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and on this page. From virtual album listening parties to live Q&A sessions with artists, the digital realm has allowed us to amplify the sense of camaraderie that defines the indie music scene. It’s not just about broadcasting music; it’s about fostering a community where passion for the unconventional is celebrated.
Navigating the indie wilderness is not without its challenges. Limited resources, the constant struggle for visibility, and the ever-present threat of obscurity are hurdles that indie artists face daily. As a DJ, I’ve witnessed the frustration of talented musicians grappling with a system that often seems designed to favor the established. Yet, it’s precisely these challenges that fuel the fire of the indie spirit. The tenacity of artists who refuse to be silenced, and the resilience of a community that thrives on the fringes – these are the stories that inspire me to keep pushing boundaries and championing the cause of the independent. It is possible that the unknown music can be even more captivating than the known.
As I peer into the future of my journey as an indie music DJ, the horizon is both exciting and uncertain. The music industry is in a state of constant flux, with new platforms and technologies reshaping how people find music. Yet, one thing remains constant – the hunger for authenticity, the craving for sounds that defy the cookie-cutter formulas of mainstream music. I envision a future where indie music continues to be a beacon of diversity and creativity. Whether through virtual concert experiences or immersive audio storytelling, the indie spirit will find new avenues to flourish. My role as a sonic guide will evolve, adapting to the changing currents of technology while staying true to the essence of independent expression. Maybe in some way, I am still the same person who knew that there was exciting and cool music waiting to be discovered, the only question was how to find it. Perhaps now the problem is how to find that music in an oversaturated culture of the moment; the internet is both friend and foe.
In the closing moments of every radio show, as the last notes of an indie anthem fade into the ether, I reflect on the journey that brought me to this point. From the dimly lit venues of my youth to the expansive world of radio waves, it’s been a ride fueled by passion, rebellion, and an unwavering belief in the power of independent music. In the vast sea of sonic possibilities, I continue to navigate the waves, a lone captain on a ship of indie music treasures. As long as there are artists pushing boundaries, as long as there are listeners hungry for the unconventional, the journey will endure. For in the realm of indie music, every note is a declaration of independence, and every DJ is a storyteller weaving tales of sonic rebellion. Now, let’s go listen to some interesting music we have not heard before.
All station photos by Tom Gilliam Photography. Photos used with permission.
In American music, there are artists whose regional roots run deep, intertwining with the cultural fabric of their home state. Greg Humphreys, the charismatic frontman of Dillon Fence, has spent decades carving out a musical niche that echoes the soulful resonance of North Carolina. His solo endeavors, marked by a fusion of rock, blues, jazz, and Americana, showcase a maturity that comes from a life dedicated to the pursuit of authentic sound.
Humphreys’ musical journey began in the late ’80s with the formation of Dillon Fence, a Chapel Hill-based alternative rock band that became synonymous with the burgeoning music scene in North Carolina. The band’s sound, characterized by jangly guitars, introspective lyrics, and Humphreys’ powerful, soulful emotive vocals, contributed to the distinctive Southern sound emerging from that fertile music community that also gave rise to The Connells, The Veldt, Fetchin’ Bones, Superchunk, Let’s Active and The dBs.
Fast forward to the present, and Humphreys has embarked on a solo career that demonstrates both evolution and continuity. His 2021 release, “Spanish Steps,” stands as a testament to his ability to navigate diverse musical waters while maintaining a distinct Southern sensibility. His most recent single, “Take a Trip (Catch a Plane)” crosses soul, ’70s pop, jazz, and smooth strands of rock and roll. Humphreys’ voice, weathered by years of musical exploration but never beaten down, lends a richness that serves as the perfect vehicle for the emotional weight carried by his lyrics. The song weaves a narrative that touches on love, loss, and the inexorable pull of life’s forces, creating a compelling experience.
Humphreys skillfully blends genres, drawing from the deep well of American musical traditions. He is equally comfortable channeling a rootsy, folk vibe with acoustic guitars or when creating a sonic laid-back atmosphere. He is also just as skillful when letting everything hang out in a full-blown rock song. Humphreys’ ability to seamlessly integrate elements of the South’s musical heritage into a contemporary framework is one reason out of the many characteristics of his songs that make them feel like lifelong friends.
Whether one is listening to Greg’s solo work or his efforts in Dillon Fence and Hobex, the songs he makes allow him to flex his songwriting muscles, delivering introspective lyrics with a raw vulnerability that resonates with listeners. “Take a Trip (Catch a Plane)” stands out as a poignant exploration of the complexities of life and the enduring power of hope, driven by Humphreys’ soulful crooning and the subtle, never forced, instrumentation that accompanies it. Humphreys’ guitar work, a hallmark of his style, shines throughout the tune, demonstrating both technical proficiency and an intuitive understanding of the emotional nuances embedded in his compositions.
In a musical landscape often dominated by trends, the passing ‘sound of the moment’, and fleeting fads, Greg Humphreys stands as a beacon of authenticity, his music is tangibly real… it resonates. Greg’s music not only pays tribute to the distinctive musical heritage of North Carolina but also adds another chapter to Humphreys’ ongoing exploration of sound and emotion. His most recent music invites listeners to journey through the landscapes of the South, guided by a seasoned troubadour whose passion for music burns as passionately and brightly as ever.
Dr. J: What can you share with us about when and how you started writing music?
I started writing songs in high school. My high school garage band “The Trash” decided to start playing our original music… our members would bring songs in to try. My early songs make me wince a bit, but you have to start somewhere. Dillon Fence bass player (and fellow The Trash member) Chris Goode and I will often sing a line or two from these old songs for a few chuckles.
I have to say, my basic appreciation and understanding of songcraft came from my dad. He was always listening to his favorite songs learning them and playing them on his guitar in his spare time.
I also think that my strong desire/need to create, expressed through art and music, comes from my mom. She’s been a visual artist for as long as I can remember and has had some different, interesting periods to her artistic expression.
Dr. J: What first led to your recording music? How do you approach production?
I started recording on a boombox, then a couple of boomboxes. I remember re-creating the harmony solos on Boston’s “Peace of Mind” with two boom boxes in High School.
After a couple years of this, my parents helped me get a Fostex 4 track recorder, which was my constant companion until I started learning ProTools / DAW recording in the late 90s. I have boxes and boxes of songs and music ideas I recorded in the 90s on that 4 track.
Of course, I learned a lot from the professional engineers and producers I worked with early on when making records with Dillon Fence and Hobex: Steve Gronback, John Plymale, Lou Giordano, Ron St. Germain, Mark Williams, David Leonard. I’ve also been lucky to sit in/take part in sessions with pros like John Wood, Joe Boyd, Al Kooper, Bill Symczyk, Chris Stamey, Mitch Easter, Don Dixon, and Jim Dickinson.
As far as my production approach, I think my main attitude is, that there’s no “correct” way to do things. All that really matters is do you have an end result that is compelling and/or worthy of listening to over and over. If budget was no issue, I’d probably do a more collaborative recording with other musicians/engineers/studios, but I do enjoy making records on my own.
I try to keep in mind that some of my favorite records were made with some of the most basic recording technology. I believe that what is going on in front of the mic is usually the most important factor in recording most musicians or singers.
Dr. J: ‘Take a Trip (Catch a Plane)’ is your most recent music, what led to the making of that song? What were the main influences on your recording of this song?
I talked about it at length in my bio over greghumphreys.net if you’d like to pull from that/peruse that. but essentially it’s a song I wrote for my wife kind of trying to express one of those feelings that’s personal yet universal. Hopefully, the song has the same quality.
Dr. J: The song ‘Take a Trip (Catch a Plane)’seems to capture a remarkable constellation of musical influences.The songseems to have a 1970s soul feel. Is that a correct interpretation? If that is correct, did you intend to create a song that connects to that style? If that is not correct, how would you describe the feeling of the song?
The rhythm section definitely has a ’70s soul vibe – Marvin Gaye records are always a North Star for me. I played bass guitar on this track, which is also a lot of fun and something I haven’t been doing on my trio records. This track is basically a taste of an approach I’ve been taking. Using drum machine sounds to create grooves. Building songs around a melody, groove, or musical idea using a looper. Then, building the arrangement over time either in live performance or in the studio.
It’s not really that different from a songwriting approach I’ve used for bands I’ve fronted over the years. It’s just that I am able to create more of a “keeper” version on my own these days.
The song really started from being inspired by a moment in a George Shearing “Lullaby of Birdland” recording where the musicians play the melody (Jazz terminology would be “the head”) together. I wanted to use that vibraphone sound, and I wrote a melody that is vaguely reminiscent of the Shearing tune – not as harmonically sophisticated, but still good. After that, I just followed my instincts to complete the song.
Dr. J: Where do you often derive inspiration to make music?
Looking back on my songwriting path, I’d say my main wellspring of music-making has been expressing myself – getting out all those feelings I have difficulty manifesting any other way. The confessional songwriting thing has definitely been a big part of who I am as a writer. That being said, I like switching it up and trying different approaches, and that shows up in my songs as well.
Dr. J: How would you describe the music that you create? How has that process evolved or changed over time (especially as you think about your journey in the last few years)?
I feel like in the back of my mind I’m always trying to create something that is timeless and universal. The quality that a great piece of music or song has – if you take it out of its cultural context, does it still resonate? I think that’s why I enjoy going down the wormhole with music from different eras or time periods and finding songs that grab me.
Dr. J: What is next for you musically? How would you describe your thoughts at this point for your next project or release?
I am close to the finish line on a couple of recording projects. One is a Dillon Fence live album that we recorded in April 2023. I think it captures the energy of the band in a good way and I’m looking forward to sharing it with our fans. I am proud of that catalog of music.
The second is another solo album in the same fashion as my 2021 album “Spanish Steps,” using a lot of the approaches and techniques I mentioned earlier. “Take a Trip (Catch a Plane)” will be included on this album, as well as some other songs I’ve been writing over the last 3-4 years. I find that these days with my family life taking precedence I’m not nearly as prolific as I used to be. The songs that I do complete tend to be real “keepers” – songs that I keep coming back to over time.
Dr. J: What is your favorite song to perform live? What is your favorite song to perform in general? What makes that song a current favorite in your performances?
I think the song that I usually enjoy performing live most is usually my most recent song that I really believe in – the song that fits that category lately is called “Fall into the Sea.” That being said, I’ve gotta give props to a song I co-wrote with my old friend Jim Smith, “Windows,” which was originally on the Hobex LP “Back in the 90s.” I still play that song in almost every show. It just works, it connects, it makes people happy, and that makes me happy.
Hopefully, they’ll find inspiration to renew their love for their significant other. That’s what it’s really about. The ‘Take a trip’ part is just an impetus to do that.
Dr. J: As a musician, how are you adapting to the challenges of creating music? What are your biggest challenges in creating music?
That’s a big question. Honestly, I don’t really know which way to go. The sheer volume of music produced these days and the torrential nature of media consumption are obviously on my mind, as far as what is ahead. I consider myself lucky I have an (admittedly boutique) audience that still comes to see me play and listen to my music online, but obviously, the Internet disruption is real and it has affected my life. It has always been a rollercoaster ride and a struggle to pursue a creative life, though.
I think my biggest challenge is managing the balance between my family life and my desire to pursue my art and music. There’s just not enough time in the day to do what I’d like to do. Once I have the time, I’m often too tired to do it!
We want to extend our sincere gratitude to Greg Humphreys for answering our questions and continuing to make some really excellent music! Click on the links throughout the article to visit his social media or to listen to various songs that were discussed! If any musicians or artists would like to participate in future ’11 Questions with…’ columns, please feel free to email us at drjytaa@gmail.com. All photos and images courtesy of Greg Humphreys.
Nineteen years feels like a long time to do anything. Why do a radio show when no one may be listening?
Let me tell you, being a radio DJ isn’t just a gig; it’s a cosmic voyage into the heart of musical expression and requires more endurance than you think. Just the other day, someone came up to me with ‘Hey, you’re that weird DJ guy!’ To which I answered, ‘Yup.’ And then they said, “Why do a show when you know no one is listening!” And, I stopped short, wondered about whether they were right, and then came to the conclusion that as long as one person finds comfort, as long as one person finds a song that speaks to them – then it matters. We are a community. We stand strong in the face of a destructive tide of avoidance and ignorance of new music. And that’s why I am who I am, standing behind the microphone every Tuesday afternoon, steering the ship that is ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.’
If I were to condense 19 years of my life into a single, rhythmic heartbeat, it would be the pulsating cadence of a radio wave, broadcasting stories, music, and dreams to an invisible audience. My journey through college radio has been a dance with the ether, a passionate affair with sound, and a canvas for my creative expression. I invite you to join me on a nostalgic journey through the tapestry of my radio experience.
The Birth of an Odyssey
As the crackling needle touched vinyl for the first time in 1983, I found myself immersed in a world that was both electrifying and liberating. I began doing radio to work on improving my stutter but I also wanted to know more about music. I wanted to comb through the vinyl collection and find records that I had read about but never had the chance to hear. I was hungry for music old and new. College radio at the University of Minnesota was not just a hobby; it was a calling. Like music journalist David Marsh dissecting the nuances of rock lyrics, I dissected the frequencies and wavelengths that carried the voices of generations before me while anxiously awaiting the new music that was to come.
My first show, Radio Artifacts, was from 1983 to 1984 where I truly learned about indie music, Minnesota-based bands, and in so many ways the future of music through bands like R.E.M., Hüsker Dü, The Smiths, U2, The Replacements, The Cure, The Connells, and The Clash. From 1984 to 1988, a new show focused on alternative and college music and the art of music making, the poorly named ‘Art for Artsake’ that was both a play on my first name and — at least to me — a reflection of the mission of the show. During graduate school from 1988 to 1993, I was involved with Bowling Green State Universities’ WBGU where I had a succession of shows whose names were lost to reflections and glimpses of memory. After grad school, I dabbled in radio at WMUB in Oxford, Ohio from 1995 to 2000. For four years I had an itch I could not scratch.
The love of indie and alternative music was something that stayed with me even without a show. But eventually, that itch became unbearable and I started a show “The School of Rock with Dr. J” in 2004 at The University of Dayton’s WUDR. Modeled in some ways on the Jack Black movie — yeah I know: Cue the eye roll. TSOR was an almost didactic approach, I played music that mattered to me and explored current indie, local, and Dayton music. I explored how current unknown and undiscovered music was connected to the music of the past. Several shows explored how The Byrds – The Flying Burrito Brothers – The Eagles – Jason and the Scorchers – Cowpunk – Uncle Tupelo – Son Volt and Wilco were all connected. The airwaves were my playground from which I discovered the richness of independent, alternative, and college music.
During these various shows, I interviewed indie artists and underground bands. College radio was not just about the music; it was about the stories behind the notes. The vibrant community of DJs, producers, and listeners was a testament to the power of shared passion. Just like Dave Marsh in his work united rock aficionados, we united lovers of alternative sounds, forging connections beyond the frequencies.
Nineteen years is a long time to do anything, and within the span of my radio experiences, I have witnessed the tectonic shifts in the audio and radio landscape. College radio stations evolved from humble FM stations to digital juggernauts streaming across the globe. Writers and journalists have chronicled the evolution of rock music, and I chronicled the evolution of radio itself in the changes in my own practice. The use of digital tools has made so much of the “doing of radio” the clicks of buttons and the dragging of files. Many tasks that once involved carts and tape or vinyl were replaced with CDs which in turn were replaced themselves with digital files. The advent of the internet brought a new dawn, expanding our reach but also challenging our authenticity. Is radio still real in the digital age? In an era of Spotify, does radio still matter when you can listen to what you want, when you want, and do it all in the palm of your hand? Why do a radio show when no one might be listening?
The Sonic Shaman
You see, being a radio DJ is more than just “spinning tracks,” It’s more than just “playing music.” It is far more than just clicking a button and dragging a cursor across the soft glow of a computer screen. It’s about conjuring emotions and weaving stories through sound. When I join with the airwaves and internet signals, I am driven by faith in the power of new music. The beauty and the lifeblood of local music call to me. Maybe all of this is some strange and unchangeable part of being a “music evangelist.” Perhaps one becomes a sonic shaman of sorts, guiding listeners through the labyrinthine tapestry of music. Every tune I play carries a piece of my soul, and when those frequencies hit your ears, they transcend mere notes and rhythms. It’s a trip through time and space seeking the person who feels alone with a simple message that they are not disconnected, they matter and the community is better for their contributions.
The Rebel Cry
Lester Bangs, one of the quintessential American rock critics, taught us that music is the language of rebellion. And that’s precisely what I aim to channel with ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.’ It’s a rebellion against the mundane, against the homogenized playlists of corporate radio. in my vision of myself, I am like the underground guerrilla fighter, battling the forces of mediocrity with a vinyl arsenal of sonic revolutionaries. Each song I play is a battle cry, a defiant scream against the mainstream. Or at least, that is probably what I really want to believe because, you know, 19 years is a long time.
The Community Connection
Radio is a lifeline to the community, a bridge between disparate souls. ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative’ is not just a show; it’s a lifeline for misfits, dreamers, and music lovers who still hang tight to the idea that music matters. I’m not just playing records; I’m forging connections. I’m the curator of a sonic underground, bringing people together through the magic of music. When that listener calls in to request a song, it’s more than a request; it’s a statement that says, “I’m part of this, too.” Those moments of connection are more important now than ever before. We need that musical validation: “Look, we are here and the music that speaks to us matters.”
The Quest for Obscurity
Lester Bangs was all about the obscure, the unknown, the raw. I share that passion. My show isn’t about chart-toppers or Billboard hits; it’s about the hidden gems, the indie bands struggling for recognition, the perfect voice that chills us while holding us close and telling us that everything is going to be alright. YTAA is about the beautiful unknowns, the forgotten tracks that deserve a second chance, and the great new songs that need to be heard. I think of myself as a musical archaeologist, digging through archives, near and far, and unearthing sonic treasures. It’s about unearthing the lost voices and forgotten riffs that deserve a place in the sun.
The Journey Continues
So why am I a radio DJ with ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative’? Why continue to be a DJ even if no one is listening? Because it’s not just a job; it’s a calling, a mission, a cosmic journey through the soundscape of the human experience. It’s a rebellion, a lifeline, and a quest for the obscure. It’s about community, connection, and the never-ending search for that perfect riff, that perfect groove, that unbelievable hit of the drum, that chilling voice that makes you catch your breath. It’s about the song that you cannot forget, no matter how hard you may try. It’s about the perfect lyric that shows you that you are not alone in feeling the way that you do.
Today, as I look back on 19 years of college/indie/alternative radio with YTAA, I see the echoes of countless voices, the resonance of music that touched souls, and the indelible mark it left on my life. David Marsh once wrote, “Rock and roll is an attitude, it’s not a musical form of a strict sort. It’s a way of doing things, of approaching things.” College radio, in my world, was — and is — that attitude – a way of doing things that transcended the mere act of broadcasting. So, yeah, it’s more than pushing a button and just playing a song. I would like to believe that it matters, and if it has meant something to just one person somewhere, anywhere then it was absolutely worth it for me.
Hopefully, this essay has helped chronicle my lifelong journey with college/indie radio – a journey that echoed the rhythms of my heart, shaped my identity, and allowed me to be a storyteller in a world of sound. Just as the radio DJs, Music writers, and journalists of the past contributed words that continue to resonate with music enthusiasts, the memories and experiences of 19 years on the airwaves/internet will forever resonate within me, a testament to the enduring power of radio and the magic of its transmission through time and space.
In the spirit of Lester Bangs, I’ll keep cranking up the volume, diving deep into the musical abyss, and taking you along for the ride. Because ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative’ is not just a show; it’s an alternative reality, a refuge for the sonic explorers, and a testament to the power of music to change our lives. So, tune in, turn it up, and let’s keep this cosmic journey rolling for as long as we are able to do so.
Dr. J spoke with Tamar Berk in the evening on Wednesday, May 11, 2022 for Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative. Tamar spoke about the powerful new record Start at The End, her music career, songwriting and her approach to recording and producing her music.
Tamar shared some compelling insights as a songwriter in this interview! Anyone interested in the subject should explore her thoughts on the subject. Tamar was honest and remarkably introspective about how pain can be transformed into art through music. It was a real pleasure to speak with her about the music that she has made in her various music projects (Starball, Countdown, Pynnacles and Paradise to name a few). And it was a singular joy to talk to her about the exciting music that she has made in the past few years under her own name with The Restless Dreams of Youth (2021) and Start At The End (2022).
If you do not know these records, we highly recommend that you explore them. Tamar’s songs evokes The Spinanes/Rebecca Gates and Liz Phair but the musical space she surveys does not end there. She uses a variety of musical ideas to create a sound that paints with a rich pallet of color and texture. The music is infectious, passionate, personal and introspective in an adventure that leads the listener into a communal rather than singular experience. Start At The End is one of our favorite records of the year!
You can listen to Tamar’s music anywhere you stream but we recommend buying her excellent music at Bandcamp!
Streaming Forward, Powered By The Past - if you love the 80s music, new music, Eurovision, cheesy pop and awesome playlists then let's get this pop party started!
your tuesday afternoon alternative 