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Wreck 20-year Anniversary show

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  • ninplant@xs4all.nl
    wReck thiS meSS ~ Radio Patapoe 88.3 ~ Amsterdam Ethno-Illogical Psycho-Radiographies: 366 [963*]: 20 Year Anniversary or Nostalgia is the Opiate of the Asses
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 21, 2007
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      wReck thiS meSS ~ Radio Patapoe 88.3 ~ Amsterdam

      Ethno-Illogical Psycho-Radiographies: 366 [963*]: 20 Year Anniversary
      or Nostalgia is the Opiate of the Asses

      PTP in the ether: 88.3FM
      Where purity & puerility are synonymous
      streaming via internet:

      12 maart 2007 // 17.00-19.00

      Are people getting stupider or what
      o the Vanilla Bean, WFMU DJ, died in 2001

      Percentage of former WFMU staff members who go on to jobs in
      commercial radio: .00004
      o WFMU Index, LCD, Summer 1986

      Freeform [radio] usually implies, and simply put, diversity doesn't sell
      o Ken Freedman, WFMU station mgr, LCD, Summer 1986


      Paloma WTM ID
      Baby Judy > Hawaiian Pups
      The Stripper > Bill Black
      Love Rock Dub > Bam Bam
      A la Carte > James Holloway
      Big Boots > Wildman Fisher
      Peter Gunn Twister > Jesters
      By Myself > Ursulla Dudziak
      Me interacting in a virtual way with my-30is-self 20 years later
      Pink Walter Christo > Eton Crop
      Neighborhood of Infinity > the Fall
      Ping Pong Head > Wildman Fisher
      Less of Me > Teenage Jesus & the Jerks
      Who Do You Love [Diddley] > Honeymoon Killers
      Stormwarning [Dr. John] > Raunch Hands
      Everybody's Got Something to Hide > Feelies
      Da Da Da > Trio
      Jayne Mansfield > Beresford / Toop / Zorn / Marshall
      Guylum Bardot > Residents
      Des Orages Pour la Nuit [Betty Blue] > Gabriel Yared
      Cargo Voyage [Betty Blue] > Gabriel Yared
      La Poubelle Cuisine [Betty Blue] > Gabriel Yared
      Brooding Six [Walker] > Joe Strummer
      Frank Sinatra > Altar Boys
      Ex-Lax for Cheryl tiegs > John Trubee & the Ugly Janitors of America
      Listening to Elvis > Syd Straw
      The Rain > David Thomas & the Pedestrians
      Irony > R. Stevie Moore
      Cargo Culte > Serge Gainsbourg
      Youth of Today > Musical Youth
      Cool Down the Pace > Gregory Isaacs
      11,000 Volts > Mars
      Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo > Lawrence Welk
      Hip Hype > Swimming Pool Qs
      Clifton's Squeeze-Box Boogie > Clifton Chenier
      Only Loved at Night > Raincoats
      Tschik-Mo > Lilliput
      Who Needs Punk Rockers > Lou Guzzo

      * Total number of shows hosted/created/ruined over the past 20 years
      in NY [WFMU, Paris [Radio Libertaire], and Amsterdam [Radio 100 (now
      defunct) & Radio Patpaoe].

      o Nostalgia is the Opiate of the Masses: Just before deciding to do
      this show I said no way and then I received an email from a
      former-listener to my show when WTM was still in NY. Hmm. OUT OF
      NOWHERE: A signal. Another moment of synchronicity was my finally
      getting part of my archive in order downstairs in our new place and
      being able to access [and get a physical perspective on all of that
      passage of time in kilometers of cassette tape] not only archival
      cassette tapes for this show but also get at my old journals from way
      back. What a bunch of gibberish I used to write [probably still do]
      was my first thought. Other synchronous moments include Dave the
      Spazz [WFMU DJ] contacting me because he is putting together an
      anthology of the best of Lowest Common Denominator, the old program
      guide and culture magazine of WFMU, for Princeton University Press. I
      was the editor of that mag for some 4 issues or so right near the
      beginning and also contributed lots of written material as well
      including the VERY earliest versions of chapters from my novel
      [Confessions of a] BEER MYSTIC.

      I began radio at WFMU like most DJs - doing fill-ins at weird hours,
      overnights, Sunday mornings for some 4 or 5 months [some 20 shows]Š
      This fill-in status led to a permanent position on WFMU, as an
      official staff member in the spring of 1987 when I started on Monday
      mornings after JM in the AM with Nachum. This was a very straight
      pro-Israel radio show. Although I was as different as night is to day
      in almost every way from host Nachum, we had a strange kind of mutual
      bemusement. I did try to prod or goad or push the envelope by playing
      sexually tinted songs or Arab music to begin my show.

      By 11 AM [a 2-hr show was NEVER long enough for me] it was time to
      begrudgingly hand over the mike to my co-audionaut, Dave the Shyboy.
      Our friendship began and evolved out of those
      heightened-begrudge-incident transition moments of virtual tension
      involving playing up the petty territorialism of DJs. What happened
      was a kind of ad hoc passion play in the interstices between 10.50
      and 11.05 AM. We would do improv skits involving this transition,
      where I would linger into Dave's show refusing to give up the mike or
      he would loudly wander into the studio while I was still on-air. The
      hilarity was probably lost on most listeners although I was surprised
      when listeners periodically would claim to be fans of our two shows
      especially those 11 AM squabbles. We were eventually separated via
      schedule changes and I ended up on Tuesdays, while Dave eventually
      found his way into the nighttime schedule. We have remained good
      friends ever since.

      Those early years were a time of personal turbulence, of self-doubt,
      of evolutionary lusts and secret trysts, of whispered affairs, of
      radio romances, emotional, political and social upheaval, night
      crawls, soul searching, and out-and-out lechery. In other words, very
      exciting times of going out, clubbing, creating, and sleeplessness [I
      went through a period of systematically (trying to) eliminate sleep,
      doing entire shows on 2 or 3 hrs sleep]. It was a period punctuated
      by kinetic affairs and friendships, literary triumphs and amazing
      periods of adventure, public lust, and lots of foreign movies and
      (some) free landmark concerts [On-U Sound at the Cat Club]. Anyway, I
      am not sure if radio fed this excitement, incited it, or merely
      served as a place to document it all.

      As far as me writing about radio, it has been very limited to
      documenting some episodes [semi-fictionally] and to some
      pseudo-polemical essays. I have noticed that events have to gestate
      inside whatever contemplative and brewing/gestating organs I have
      left in my body for a long time before something that may resemble
      art comes out. The more intense or the deeper the period or incident
      the longer it takes to make something of it. I am suddenly feeling I
      may be able to write a novel about radio. As one friend noted not so
      long ago: "if there's anyone who should or could write this novel
      it's you" [that is praise that pretty much ensures paralysis and also
      partly why this friend is a friend I suppose].

      What playing this material today really scraped loose was the intense
      personal nature of some of my shows although I seldom went on mike to
      declare any of this, preferring to let the songs, the lyrics, the
      sequencing, and the segues speak for themselves however obscurely or
      allusively. The shows were an amalgam, a tapestry of feelings,
      inklings, political statements, gripes, desires, woe-is-me-isms and

      Most of what I played comes from old cassettes of my old shows. I
      still have "all" of them - literally thousands of them. And the rumor
      that the tape itself deteriorates has thus far not been true altho I
      DO contemplate putting the best of the material on hard drive or CD.

      Imagine something like 2 cassettes per show for some 750 of my shows
      and you get the picture. The nature of my economic situation
      determined how I did radio. I was poor, or living on a limited income
      and managing to more than survive despite earning not much above the
      minimum wage. I bought next to no new music during my tenure at WFMU.
      I just did not have the money. Honestly. I recycled old cassettes and
      used them to record my shows which became documents of a moment in
      time but also my source for another week of 'new' music I did not
      have in my collection. The formidable WFMU library [and studios] that
      used to be located in the charming basement of Froberg Hall in a
      fledgling private college, Upsala College in East Orange, NJ [home of
      Queen Latifah but also the car-jacking capital of the US], that
      eventually went bankrupt[!!]. I survived with either recycled or new
      cassettes and donated music by indie artists. And so a good part of
      my music collection [as well as my expressionistic diaries] are still
      those many, many cassettes. I learned from listening to my old tapes
      on how to improve my show. I also became enamored of the big mix, the
      long soundscapes I developed improvisationally [radio's charm is its
      ability to be both anonymous and informally improvisational] at Radio
      Libertaire [where WTM continues with Laurent].

      Anyway, the parts of the shows I played today can be strung together
      to tell something of a bit of the story of who I was at a certain
      time. What I have noticed about cassettes [i.e., these shows as well
      as many of my field recordings is that audio is as effective a
      mnemonic device as a photo or photo album - when I listen to old
      period-piece cassettes the exact period of time, emotions, relations
      come back like a video viewed on the backs of my eyelids projected
      there by memory-triggered phosphenesŠ

      o Many of my shows contain literary or audio or emotional allusions.
      Thus the shows dedicated to women musician/singers or the one
      dedicated to all songs with women's names as the title had
      reverie-inducing effects. They expressed moments of triumph or glory
      or love or regret. Playing a song called 'Maggie May' and or 'Laura'
      pretty much meant that I was dating someone by that name or was
      obsessing over someone with that name. The mere playing of the song,
      the singer singing the name, me writing the song title down for my
      playlist, me announcing the playing of the song ALL had the effect of
      bringing me closer to a perpetual state of past-present-future amour.

      I will now try an experiment. I will try to thread the titles of the
      songs together into a vaguely cohesive if poetically hyper-textual
      meandering fashion to create a narrative. The tracks played were from
      shows that took place near the birth of my radio show in the early
      spring of 1987.

      -- Baby Judy was a talismanic call to a woman I was tumultuously
      dating in a mutually obsessive and destructive fashion. Our affair
      was a tumbling, fumbling trip through NYC and its haunts and promises
      and its disappointments, through gallons of rum and beer, through
      passionate kissing on the sidewalks and in the bars, always oblivious
      to polite public discretionŠ The Stripper was an inside joke [I dated
      one stripper, married another, and found out later that another girl
      firend had become a stripper] as stripping became a dying and then
      rekindled gesture but as long as the striptease was done with a
      post-modern nudge into ironic awareness you could get away with. And
      this Judy had some fatal and failing striptease-type gestures that
      seemed simultaneously modern and antique [charmingly obvious and
      awkward], effective and yet somehow tragically desperate. Love Rock
      Dub is a great female reggae-dub piece by Bam Bam that seemed to
      contain [and I don't mean just in retrospect] the essence of kinetic
      seduction, sex, and amusementŠ A la Carte is one of those great
      treasures of weird slim gaillard like junk culture obsessed with
      weird meals and eating habits. This kind of material was this door
      into weirdness but also kept my show buoyant, kept it from sliding
      into a homogenised gruel of haughty obscurity-driven elitism [not
      that ironic worship of pop/junk culture doesn't have its own caste
      system]. Indulgence and journeys into the farthest reaches of taste,
      style and hip meant daring to retrieve junk that had not yet been
      revalued as high culture. Big Boots is a great ode to big black
      boots, which I had at that time and which my gurl fren at the time
      used to comment on. They were big and black and had metal tips and I
      wore them year round, the boots became me, let us say. Peter Gunn
      Twister shows that popular songs that were so very popular fall so
      far out of fashion that they become retrievable gemsŠ By Myself by
      Ursulla Dudziak is amazingly interesting Jetson scat, intriguing
      abstract vocals with an undeniable flicker of mirth around the edges.
      And then there was I, 20 years earlier, announcing what I had just
      played then - and now - and I turned on the studio mike and began
      having a conversation with myself.

      Somewhere between the Fall and the Mekons was Pink Walter Christo by
      Eton Crop, noisy, snotty and yet just complex enough to pass as both
      sophisticated and as trashing gesture. The Neighborhood of Infinity
      by the Fall could have been written in 79, 89, 99, 2007. The amazing
      thing about Mark E. Smith is that the Fall always sound
      simultaneously exactly the same as always and totally fresh. Ping
      Pong Head is Wildman Fisher looking in the mirror and lamenting that
      his head looked like a ping pong ball! Teenage Jesus & the Jerks and
      Lydia Lunch lingered around to survive the suicidal no/ise wave scene
      of the early 1980s. A lover 'knew' or had hung with LL. Who Do You
      Love [Diddley] by the American Honeymoon Killers was pure noisecore
      grunge that sought to rescue rock and roll from new wavism and to
      romanticise great marginal sounds [not that Diddley is/was marginal].
      Stormwarning by the Raunch Hands, was again a noisy dingy dirty sound
      of inverted exhilaration in the face of too much attitude, too much
      style. This was the power of being associated with nihilism as a smug
      fuck you gesture at all that was false and glittering and babbling
      and lying and false and off-kilter in society at that time. My old
      friend Nels was a great fan of the Feelies and we saw them a time or
      2 and when you saw them you knew they were onto something that was so
      new it sounded old or vice versa. He also played bass in the
      Cucumbers, a nice little local band. He also played in a band with my
      ex-girl friend. They even played CBGB's and they sang 4 songs I'd
      written. She looked so much like Chrissy Hynde, going out with her
      was like being famous by association. Da Da Da by Trio is one of the
      greatest simple/simplistic melodies, beats and songs with lyrics
      consisting basically of 3 words [all the same!] and like the Feelies
      and Suicide and other bands they managed to make the simple sound
      full and complex and allusional and necessary.

      Jayne Mansfield by Beresford / Toop / Zorn / Marshall was great high
      end international atmospheric experimentation. The Residents,
      although running out of conceptual gas already by 1987, were still
      capable of some amazing warpings of culture. I have by now seen Betty
      Blue about 5 times in theatres [expressive hand-holding at distinct
      junctures] and the somewhat romantic heart string soundtrack by
      Gabriel Yared remains an amazingly evocative soundtrack to a still
      powerful love-obsession movie that I and whomever could really relate
      toŠ The Clash, one of my favorite bands was long gone and Joe
      Strummer managed to do some interesting projects including this
      somewhat successful atmospheric soundtrack to the Alex Cox film,
      Walker. The Altar Boys I have no idea who they are and that was the
      magic of the WFMU library [and I mined that library like NO other DJ
      ever - it was a running joke - because I would either get to the
      station the night before and sleep on a makeshift mattress in the
      office or get to my show some 6 hours early to browse and preview and
      prepare my shows. This was heaven really]. John Trubee & the Ugly
      Janitors of America was great disturbing political/sociological
      commentary punk where the erosion of all values into the abyss of
      consumerism was commented upon by a whole new generation of post-Gang
      of 4 bands that trashed the trash so bad that they were able to
      convert rubbish into power, into energy, into slumbering glints of
      poetic illumination. Syd Straw was a vocalist who was probably a bit
      overrated because she worked with the Golden Palominos.

      I helped program some modern dance pieces and one of them included
      using David Thomas & the Pedestrians. Thomas in his post-Ubu period
      became a flaky arteest type capable of walking that tightrope between
      lo and hi culture. Part of wanting to create my own sound was
      basically avoiding WFMU's very own darling and indie musical
      home-based genius R. Stevie Moore. It seemed like everyone at the
      time on WFMU was playing him so I did not. I also did not play XTC.
      There are many stories that involve RSM, but also the Vanilla Bean
      [RIP] and other DJs that head into a sordid area of seduction,
      worship, denunciation. But late-night witnessing the exploits of RSM
      and the Bean when they did their ground-breaking earth-shattering
      comic "Larry & Mookie" radio show of barely controllable comic
      improv. I was dating 2 French gals and while in France in 1986 I was
      turned on to Serge Gainsbourg via MB'S brother and soon I was
      bringing back Serge material and was probably the first DJ [why not
      just make the unprovable claim!?] to play Serge extensively in North

      Musical Youth: This reminds me of living in Ocean Grove [and
      simultaneously in NYC as well] and writing and listening to WFMU
      before I had my own show and would record lots of radio shows off the
      radio and later reproduce them for people in other parts of the world
      [the Bean, TKF [RIP], Rockin' Groove, the Hound, Val Sebastiano
      [RIP], etc.]. It also reminds me that although listening to Lee
      "Scratch" Perry, On-U, Mikey Dread, and Prince Far I, I was also
      taken by something so cloyingly novelty as this. I don't know, it
      holds up OK as VERY few hits done by kids do. VERY few. Gregory
      Isaacs, from 'Night Nurse' period also reminded me of a strange
      period of amorous wanderings and having his music as a soundtrack to
      my senseless groinal drifting and with wife #1 [art pseudonym Lil
      Dude] driving around in our Datsun B-210 with wildly painted dash and
      our self-installed tape deck and speakers riding along the Jersey
      shore amazed at how alien we felt and thus having to turn up Isaacs,
      Suicidal Tendencies, the Fall and other musics to armor ourselves, to
      fortify ourselves, to tell ourselves WE weren't the insane ones -
      AND INSULTS AT US WHEREVER WE WENT those joyous summers of 1983 and

      Mars was a no wave permutation of pure jangly noise that sounded like
      trash can lids tied to the end of exposed blood veins. The scary
      thing was that this sound so purely and expressionistically expressed
      precisely the noise and junk we were daily absorbing in 'our' NY.
      This is what made it great although we should have taken heed of
      their unconscious warnings - there is something amiss with an
      environment that creates a music like this. Playing Lawrence Welk was
      part of the evolving need to cross genres, transgress all matters of
      logic and taste and press ahead to create a new poetic logic and
      instants of ecstasy that occurred at the segue [the intercourse of 2
      or more sound inputs] and this was to become my heroin, the segue.

      I have no idea who/what the Swimming Pool Qs were but that was OK
      because altho some of us knew a lot about music we [I] never wanted
      to let ethno-musicological and logical considerations and other
      strait jackets of taste prevent you/me from doing what was almost
      impossible almost anywhere else in the world - playing what you
      wanted [except of course FCC-defined obscenity!] regardless of
      whether you knew anything at all about the particular piece. Zydeco
      defined an as-yet inadequately written about trip cross-country with
      my then soon-to-be-ex-wife as we crossed the US and 14,000 miles in 6
      weeks. Intense like a Sam Sheperd play on 4 wheels or something.
      Clifton Chenier was one of the few records I bought on that trip as
      we passed through Louisiana sitting next to one another in our Datsun
      both thinking ways of how to murder or leave the otherŠ The Raincoats
      [the Delta 5, Lizzy Mercier, ESG, Bush Tetras, et al.] exemplified a
      high period of chick coolness and great clit rock that did more for
      amour than could ever be imagined from this barbed and aggressive
      music. It brought together some unlikely couples united in their hope
      and fascination and fandemonium for these chick bands. Ditto
      Kleenex/Lilliput. I finished off with Who Needs Punk Rockers by Lou
      Guzzo because there was an innocent time when punk [and other style
      genres] were taken seriously or somewhat as demarcations between
      souls of differing degrees of evolution. There were plenty of
      fulminations against punk that made it all the more attractive.

      Even this anniversary show was thrown together without too much
      aforethought and I would certainly do it differently if I had
      hundreds of luxurious hours to contemplate each cut and track and
      sample. In the summer of 1988, I departed NY for [what seemed like]
      for good and I went to Paris to live where I got a show on the
      venerable anarchist station Radio Libertaire whose studios used to
      lie in the shadow of the Sacre Couer in Montmartre. There I invented
      Wreck This Mess, a show that would remangle re-engineer, reprogram
      existing musics into a very noisy [sometimes] engaging mix. I came
      back to NYC in 1991 against my will just at the height of the first
      Gulf War and settled in to do a weekly WTM with an extra resurrected
      mini-show thrown in, "Word is the Bird," featuring live and recorded
      spoken word. In 1996, I had been in NY a total of some 15 years and I
      moved with muse NA [the subject of MANY WTM broadcasts] to Amsterdam
      where I have now been for 10.5 years doing radio for 2 squat radio
      stations, Radio 100 [extinct] and Radio Patapoe, the junkyard cat of
      squat/free radio with about 20 lives, which has survived some 20+
      years now without a budget, a record library, a hierarchy,
      bureaucracy, or a fixed address.

      ::::::::::::::TWO ANNOUNCEMENTS:::::::::::::::::


      It's coming up to the 10th anniversary of Allen Ginsberg's death (April 5th).
      Chanticleer magazine, published in Edinburgh, Scotland, has just come
      out with a special Sixties theme issue (poems, essays, reviews),
      which also
      includes two poems by Eddie Woods, "Woodstock Without Mud" and
      "Amsterdam Kaddish."
      Copies are obtainable for three pounds (+ a quid postage for outside Britain)
      to Richard Livermore, 6/1 Jamaica Mews, Edinburgh EH3 6HN, Scotland, U.K.
      (Pound sterling cheques only, payable to R. Livermore, or cash if you dare.)


      Jodel Reading --> bart plantenga

      ABOUT 'black truck driver yodeler Mike Johnson'
      and yodeling in general with some 80 global samples and many images

      in connection with the publication of
      BIG MAG #1 theme: Outsiders

      30 March
      20.00 uur
      Tolhuislaan 107, Rotterdam, Katendrecht

      31 March
      20.00 uur
      NSplein 16, Tilburg

      0031 (0)6 4185678430

      Also performing:
      GOODIEPAL (performance)

      LORDOFTHEYUMYUM (performance)

      KEREN CYTTER (video's)

      BART PLANTENGA (reading on yodeling)


      HEIN DINGEMANS (exposition of drawings)

      o Jonges v/d Vlakte [Boys from the Plains]: "De cottonpickin' Jongens
      van de cottonpickin' Vlakte" play a piquant, illuminating, and
      playfully irritating mix of faulty music, of near-misses, of obscure
      failures, of world music that is not from this world 19.00-20.30
      [Dutch time, subtract 1 hr for UK, subtract 6 hrs for US East Coast]
      Mondays @ PTP

      o Dr. Doo Wop is one of the most eccentric and stimulating radio
      shows anywhere. Sartre, DeSade, Doo Wop and music from the gonads.
      Now on Radio Patapoe on Sunday 17.00-18.00 Amsterdam time

      o Solus: Minimal electro techno acid french hiphop / Thursdays 22.00
      o Super Nova is a big potpourri of sounds influences and information
      both local and elsewhere. Can you picture a sound? On Sundays

      o Wildcat Radio: Anarchist organization presents radio as it should
      be - in your ear. Saturdays 18.00-20.00.

      o De Oktoskoop: Kinderen /kid /children /rugrats and other
      visionaries. Sat. 11.30-13.30

      o POLYPHAKE PLAPPERLAPAPP: "polyphone audioerosion featuring
      occasional beatweirdniks in an plaperlappap assemblage hosted by
      F.Fiasko 22:30-?? Wednesdays

      o Radio Worm: Rotterdam-based radio collective presents inventive
      programming to baffle all preconceptions. Midnight Sundays and in
      autopilot rotation.

      o HET PROGRAMMA: industrial lounge for collapsing people. Tuesdays 21:00


      * Wreck This Mess-Paris @ Radio Libertaire, Paris 89.4 hosted by
      Laurent Diouf 1/2 PanouPanou on Tuesdays 12:30-14:30 check
      * Black Sifichi / Audiometric radio check <http://www.blacksifichi.com>

      Send all sound material for airplay and review to:
      Wreck This MeSS
      Radio Patapoe
      bart plantenga
      Dina Appeldoornstraat 11-3
      1076 AX Amsterdam
      the Netherlands

      o Check out NEW excerpts from my erotic-dérive novel: Paris Sex Tete
      on Parisiana <http://www.parisiana.com/>


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