Raised on the Radio

Because growing up on 70s television didn't kill me. It just made me who I am today.


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A New Wave Dance Playlist

New Wave Playlist

 

For me, Dance Music is New Wave 80’s music. Because that’s when I was disturbed and dancing.

I did some dancing in the late 90’s, but that’s when Dance music was just plain old disturbing to me.

Here are some notables:

Ministry with Everyday is Halloween – By the way, this song was our anthem. “Why are you dressed like its halloween?”

 

The Cult – She Sells Sanctuary

 

Siouxsie & The Banshees with Cities in Dust

 

The Cure – Close To Me

 

Sorry I just got so darn nostalgic I couldn’t leave this one out.
The Cure – Love Cats

 

New Order – Blue Monday

 

What was New Wave to you? Did you even know it existed? What makes you want to dance? Speak up!

Tell me about the Music New Wave in your life.

 

Jen Kehl often finds herself stuck in the 70’s with the all the rainbows and unicorns. Where life just drifts away as she listens to her favorite 60’s and 70’s music. She blogs at My Skewed View and created the music site Raised on the Radio, where she invites other writers to share their music experiences with you. She is also a published author as part of the anthology The Mother of All Meltdowns available on Amazon.
Connect with her on twitter @jenkehl.


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There Must Be Some Misunderstanding – How a Missing Genesis Album was Eclipsed by Van Halen

guest dj 200 dark

This week’s Raised on the Radio Guest Post, is by Doug Foster. Doug and I go waaaay back and I am thrilled to have him on Raised on the Radio.

Please click this link to read this post about love and loss and Van Halen,  There Must Be Some Misunderstanding

As much as I have loved having Raised on the Radio as it’s own site, we will now be moving back to where it all began. If you want to stay on top of all the newest posts from Raised on the Radio guests, regular contributors and me, please click over to My Skewed View and subscribe.


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I Wanted My Own Bitchin’ Camero

 camero

 

It’s the mid 1980s. Bands like REO Speedwagon, Foreigner and Wham! ruled the charts. But there’s an underground movement bubbling up — punk rock.

Listening to my Sony Walkman late at night, the local college station would spin strange songs and bizarre artists. Sometimes, the songs were so awful my ears hurt. Other times, the music seemed plain boring and vanilla. But some magical nights, the DJ was speaking directly to me.

One evening while laying in my bed, staring out at the darkness, two sarcastic whiney voices popped through the headphones. A walking bass played in the background while these kids just shot the breeze, making fun of Motley Crue and talking about nothing of importance. What kind of song was this?

Then suddenly, the tone of the song changed. Fast guitar. Banging drums. Staccato voice. The Dead Milkmen’s Bitchin’ Camero took over. Welcome to punk rock.

Check out Bitchin’ Camero. The song takes a crazy turn around minute #2. Although Bitchin’ Camero was The Dead Milkmen’s breakout song, their most popular tune by far is Punk Rock Girl.

The Dead Milkmen introduced me to the idea that music could be irreverent, sarcastic, silly and funny for the sake of just being fun. Songs didn’t have to be about love. They didn’t have to have a deeper meaning. Bands could inspire and move an audience with their acerbic wit and raw musicality.

About the Author:

Jennifer is the moms of boys, the better half (occasionally), a family cruise director, a short order cook, a techie and always evolving. When she’s not playing house, you can find her at The Jenny EvolutionGeneration iKid and The Sensory Spectrum.


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Deep Sleep: In Remembrance of DEVO’s Bob 2

Devo bob2

Unlike he, I had by then passed the Bauhaus test, you see.

Having previously purchased, initially hated, then grown to respect and finally admire their seminal album “Mask,” I was already well versed in the true nature, flavor and potential of what would eventually be coined as “alternative music.”

My little brother, however, had no such tutelage, no such pedigree. And as a result, he revolted in a sulking fashion over the tape that I had just purchased and listened to via my Walkman – the sort that came complete with TWO headphone jacks – as we traversed over the bridge that brought us back from “The Falls” (Niagara, that is) to good old Buffalo. The tape in question was DEVO’s “Duty Now For The Future,” and the track that finally made Alex pull the minimally foam-covered plastic hubs from his ears in disdain, was track # 7 – better known as “S.I.B.” – or “Swelling Itching Brain,” to those of you who aren’t fluent in the Devolutionary tongue.

I liked it – connected with it – because it spoke to me on a wholly different level than my usual punk rock fare. In lieu of the generic anger, frustration, and pissitude I was used to, this went far deeper in. It went to the core of my hurt. The connect of my disconnect. The point of my pain. The feeling of my feeling of being all alone in a world full of people, all of whom were trying very hard to ignore the fact that they were all alone. You see, those silly Spuds from a planet wholly foreign – known simply at the time as “oHIo” – in some ways knew me far better than even did the biological life forms who shared DNA with me, and the same car, as it and we traversed a bridge between The Falls (of Niagara) and The Depths (of Buffalo.)

And of those Spuds, Bob 2 was one of them.

Bob 2

Much like his other fallen cohort, drummer Alan Myers, Bob 2 spoke to me, even though he never knew me. And much like the other three gentlemen still standing today – those who felt that wearing flowerpots atop their heads and toilet seats round their necks was their best option in order to avoid becoming “plugs without sockets” – Bob “2” Casale helped me to understand that while I still was all so terribly alone, I wasn’t quite so “all so terribly alone” as I imagined.

Now, to my continued melancholy, I learned that Bob died last week at the age of 61 due to sudden heart failure (see, it’s NOT always drug abuse, you know). He now joins one other Spud, three (or is it more?) Ramones, a whole slew of New York Dolls and Joe Strummer of The Clash in what could be presumed to be the BESTEST band that Heaven has ever heard.

And as with all the rest, I cry a little bit more with each passing. Not so much because he (or any of the others) is merely gone – I mean, as noted before, I didn’t even know the guy, after all – but because I appreciate that he opened windows for me that no one else could’ve. That he let me know, at a time when it was most important, that I too could “rip away the gates of steel.”

So rest in peace, Bob Casale. Rest in peace, Bob 2. Thanks for the knowledge you shared with me. For the record, I totally understood – and will now forever miss – your  unique potato.

•••

About the Author:

She calls me “Tweetless” because I suffer from a Twitter deficiency. In fact, other than WordPress and Facebook, I’m pretty much a social media recluse all together. I am however, as I like to call it, a Wanna-be Writer who “writes weakly, thrice-weekly.”
Mostly fiction and flash-fiction, I intersperse these two with a smattering of pieces on musical history, culture and memories. You may also find me doing what I would term an “inspirational piece” now and again, though most others would likely just call these works “woe-is-me mope-abouts.” 
As well as that, I am the father to three beautiful, smart, and wholly pain-in-the arse children (side note: normally I would never use the word “arse,” but in writing the bio, I felt it’s use made me sound much more “continental.”) All three of whom have provided me with much more joy than sorrow – much more love than pain. So I suppose I’ll keep them around.
For now.
If you’d care to dig deeper into my writing weakly, thrice-weekly, or just want to see what’s currently floating about in my head  – pop on over to http://aslongasimsinging.wordpress.com


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FirstNotes and ForeverMusic

lizzi guest post ROTR

I was raised in a pretty shut-down household, where the music available was a strict diet of Classic FM (which I now love), Classical CDs (I love some of them), ‘Churchy’ music (still not that keen), and Gilbert and Sullivan (hate it with a passion).

There was one exception (other than the stalwart ‘sung Times Tables’ tapes) – one copy of a hearkening back to my Dad’s childhood; a ‘Hello Children Everywhere’ CD. I listened to it obsessively, whenever I was allowed to use the (gigantic old monster of a) stereo system, in brushed steel, with heavy dials and buttons which swirled deliciously in my hands and would land me in trouble, because somehow the volume always seemed to end up louder.

danny-kaye

So thanks to the lifeline of this one CD, I caught a tiny break and spent my childhood having my mind blown by such wonders as Suzi Miller’s ‘Bimbo’, Burl Ives’ ‘Big Rock Candy Mountain’ and Danny Kaye’s ‘Little White Duck’.

My musical world exploded into life when I went to secondary school.

I’d chosen a school in a town outside the city, which meant being bussed in with a bunch of other local kids. We were herded onto a scabby old, white mini-bus, with a snarkastic driver who tended to be either overly friendly or overly mean, but the journeys had one HUGE redeeming feature, which quite made them a favourite part of my day. The radio.

Tuned for the first time in my LIFE to something beyond the realms of the classical, 103.2 Power FM gave me my first taste of what I’d been missing, and just what depths of wonder there were to explore. Chaka Demus and Pliers ‘Twist and Shout’, D:Ream ‘Things can only get better’, UB40 ‘(I can’t help) Falling In Love With You’, not to mention Rednex, who I can probably hold fully responsible for my ongoing love of countryish music, since then broadened to include such gorgeousness as Bill Monroe, Rascal Flatts and Blake Shelton

I remember with absolute delight my very first tape.

It was given to me for my birthday by neighbours over the road. It was Robson & Jerome’s version of Unchained Melody, with B sides of ‘I believe’ and ‘Saturday Night at the Movies’ (so deeply ingrained in my mind that I didn’t even look it up to check the B sides – I’m probably right, and if not, well it was 18 years ago…). I can’t remember how, but I got a tape player, and discovered, to my delight and awe, that I too, could get Power FM tuned in, directly into my bedroom and began listening at home, ignoring repeated shouts to “Turn that horrible noise down!” as often as I could.

I then discovered (oh sweet day) that a store nearby actually SOLD the music I’d heard on the radio (yes, I was *that* sheltered). My pocket-money immediately became a hugely important deal, and I even began forgoing my weekly Beano comic to buy tapes and tapes…and then I discovered CDs, back when a single was still 99p. To my shame, I can’t remember my first single. Or my first album.

Buying blank tapes and sitting hunched over the radio waiting for my favourite songs to come on, with my finger hovering, poised, over ‘Play’ and ‘Record’ was a massive pastime for me. The irritating DJ or radio jingle forever intertwined with the intro and outro, the missing first three seconds when my attention span had waned.

I developed some serious musical crushes, my ears, mind and soul being touched in ways I’d never felt before – thoughts and emotions expressed in ways I’d never considered possible. I became a cray-cray fan of such acts as Robbie Williams, Alisha’s Attic and All Saints.

And gradually the radio became my companion.

I branched out, finding new stations which weren’t all pop. I discovered rock, house, trance, dance, disco, and later on, music from generations slightly before my own, which is where I feel my musical soul now lives, courtesy of my new-found favourite radio station – 106 Jack FM. They play music from about early in my own musical introduction back to a generation or so before my time, mixed with a few newer tracks for good measure – Aerosmith, Queens of the Stone Age, Dave Edmunds, Faith No More, Queen, Reef, ELO, T-Rex, Tommy James and the Shondells …. But even though it’s my favourite, I can’t stay faithful – my car (which is my ‘Radio Place’) has an old-fashioned stereo/tape player, with a different station (yes, including Classic FM – shh!) programmed into each of its five buttons.

(Small Victory – takes a while to get going; if you want to skip straight to the Good Stuff, head to 2:22 for a guitar riff which just *does things* to me)

In spite of that, my musical ‘old soul’ still has to resort to the not-the-radio resource of YouTube to supply such gorgeousness as The Andrews Sisters, The Beach Boys, Elvis, Flanders and Swann; usually with one or two tracks hitting my ‘favourites’ list on YouTube, as opposed to loving everything the band produced, as in the heyday of First Discovering Music.

But it’s not the same. YouTube is cold and clinical, and sometimes highly irritating (although everything’s ‘on tap’). The DJs on Jack FM have become my pals – I know the ins and outs of their public personas. I follow their news. I even follow the station on Twitter and Facebook. I recognize their voices. I dance in my car to their music choices, and I love it.

The world of music has become an outlet – I can use music to describe how I feel far better than I can use words. Music speaks to the soul rather than the intellect, and since my very first introduction, I knew that radio and I would get along, though it’s definitely moved up in status over the years from ‘companion’ to ‘Forever Friend’. Thank you Radio, for giving me so much.

About the Author:

Lizzi Rogers is a non-professional blogger over at Considerings. Her aim is to Think Deeply, Tell Truths and Actively Seek the Good in life. Creator of the weekend-long ‘Ten Things of Thankful’ hop, she blogs about her thoughts, her world and being a member of The Invisible Moms Club. She finds that when she runs out of words, music can be used to speak for her, and if she had to lose four of her five senses, would keep her hearing, for the idea of a world without music would be far too desolate to contemplate.”

You can follow her on Twitter: @LRConsiderer and on Facebook