Dear FM radio, Oh how I loved thee. In 1980 you turned me on to The Clash’ London Calling and I was changed forever. I remember walking down the street, boombox planted firmly on my right shoulder, volume at 9 cranking WMMR 93.3 making sure anyone within a football field distance could hear this new discovery that this great rock station turned me onto. There were plenty of other moments…The Talking Heads remake of Al Green’s Take Me To The River just before that and back in the early eighties I owe my discovery of local artists to Philadelphia FM stations. Bands like The Hooters, The A’s and Schooly D never would have been known to a teenager who could not get into the club shows or have that luxurious thing called the internet to discover these great acts, thereby opening my world to exciting new music.
Fast forward to 2014, where we now have the internet, thank goodness, as well as good ol’ commercial FM radio. Still huffin’ & puffin’ amidst a bevy of music listening options. I imagine I am not alone in that I rarely use radio for discovery. Radio for me has become nostalgic.
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Dear FM radio, Oh how I loved thee. In 1980 you turned me on to The Clash’ London Calling and I was changed forever. I remember walking down the street, boombox planted firmly on my right shoulder, volume at 9 cranking WMMR 93.3 making sure anyone within a football field distance could hear this new discovery that this great rock station turned me onto. There were plenty of other moments…The Talking Heads remake of Al Green’s Take Me To The River just before that and back in the early eighties I owe my discovery of local artists to Philadelphia FM stations. Bands like The Hooters, The A’s and Schooly D never would have been known to a teenager who could not get into the club shows or have that luxurious thing called the internet to discover these great acts, thereby opening my world to exciting new music.
