the dotmatrix project

It’s a pretty drastic move for me to spend a chunk of cash these days on a technology that delivers any type of programmed content, but music in particular.

Ever since human-spun radio soured on me in the mid-nineties — with reports of payola and label deal rotations influencing DJ plays — I’ve evolved to relegate my radio listening patterns to drive time NPR, practically disregarding the very existance of music. The radios I owned slowly began to reflect my reduced appreciation for the medium. Out of my boom boxes, clock radios, my tower stereo tuner, etc., only one working radio remained: my factory issued truck stereo.

I mean, who needs a radio with the internet in play?

Around 2001, I discovered Launch FM (Yahoo Music), which I immediately considered brilliant for its discrete feedback mechanisms to personalize my Launch station. I mean, where else could I state that A Tribe Called Quest was a perfect expression of Hip Hop, while declaring that J-Live falls short of perfection by 8 points out of 100 and issuing a decree that P.M. Dawn was to never be heard from again on my station?

Since then, Pandora, Last.fm and numerous other music services have added various axis’ and dimensions for introducing discovery along side personalization; all have contributed greatly to radio’s potential within this digital age.

Yet with all this progress, something tangible seems to be missing from the equation.

I’ve tried my best to disregard it — “it” being the obvious exclusion of human personality in the mix — by telling myself that the masses know better than any one DJ; that the “wisdom of the crowd” definitely trumps a human editor with the potential for an agenda.

But that distrust of all editors, all human filters, doesn’t match my core take on people or my belief in the need for human creativity, nor is it true to my upbringing.

Back In The Day

My relationship with radio dates back to being an eight year-old latch key kid in North Jersey. As dusk settled in, and after watching my father pass out after one too many Martini’s, I’d head up to my room to stay up late into the night listening to acts like Cliff Richard croon their latest on the AM channel of the day in NYC:

It’s so funny how we don’t talk anymore
It’s so funny why we don’t talk anymore
But I ain’t losing sleep and I ain’t counting sheep
It’s so funny how we don’t talk anymore

But it wasn’t just the song or the act that captured my imagination; it was the flow spit by the DJ of the day, Wolfman Jack. His raspy delivery, cool as the other side of the pillow demeanor and the Wolfman howl transferred coolness to the very tracks he spun.

He was radio.

A few years later, each night after drifting off to side two of Rhythm of Youth (”I Like” in particular), every now and then I’d wake up just to fire up the station and request a song. I don’t know what moved me to roll out of a deep sleep, but it probably had just as much to do with connecting with another human being than it did with my desire to get my song played live.

There was just something real about talking to the DJ, a person with the cool ass job of spinning whatever vinyl they damn well pleased. And when my tune request actually caught a spin on-air!? The feeling was something else, akin to maybe wafting the very scent of Rock n’ Roll itself. It’s arguably a sensation that kids in this DIY-only media generation have completely missed out on experiencing.

It’s all relative, I guess.

When I check Molly’s play stats on Last.fm or Amie Street and see even a slight gain from the previous week, it’s a different type of adrenalin rush from when my request gets spun by a DJ.

Cool for sure, but not that cool.

While all these relevancy algorithms, metadata input fields and recommendations each serve as precise hooks of input leading to greater chances of discovering new artists and the collaborative, yet passive pimpage, is completely relevant in how this decentralized, yet connected age of music is being shaped, the texture of the experience isn’t anywhere near the same as when I catch a DJ infusing one of Molly’s songs into their rotation.

I know that now, because that’s exactly what happened yesterday.

The Hookup

A couple of weeks ago, while taking in Molly’s show at The Blind Tiger, I handed out Girl with Slingshot to folks who seemed like they were digging her set (read: everyone not too drunk to stand). Afterwards, as Molly and I sat on the pool table watching Chuck Folds Five do their thing, I recognized a woman from across the room. We had never met formally, but we had crossed paths a few times at her day job, so I decided to introduce myself… with a free CD in tow.

After introducing each other and chatting for a bit, it turns out that this woman, Kathy Clark, is the very same Kathy Clark who DJ’s the Worker’s Playtime slot on 90.9 WQFS, from 12pm -2pm each Monday afternoon. Before I could begin to grin, Kathy tells me that she’ll check out the album and if she digs it, she’ll start playing it the following week.

Uhm, cue the adrenaline drip.

On The Radio (whoa oh oh)

I missed Worker’s Playtime last week, as I couldn’t find a good enough radio to purchase in such a short period time, so I could only guess how Molly’s music was received on a popular college radio station. Thankfully, Kathy ended my angst by emailing me after her show:

[...] i was only going to play one molly song but ended up playing three. after playing “preachers and thieves” a caller ranted and raved about it and wanted to hear something else by molly. (i love it when that happens! the FIRST time EVER anything gets played on the air and it elicits that kind of response… i take as a good sign for that artist’s success.) so i played “kill devil hills.” and when i was looking for a way to end my show, i impulsively threw on “travel well and safely.” it’s always good to end with ukulele, yes? (it is a ukulele in that song, isn’t it…?) [..]

I’m sorry, but can you say w00t!?

So last weekend I made it a point to remedy the state of my non-existent home radio. Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to my new living room radio in all its intrinsic retro-glory.

I’ve no idea if I’ll ever use the HD aspect of the box; all that mattered to me was that it had digital tuning, that it sounded great and that it would look nice in my living room.

So yesterday, with the radio perched up on my bookcase, I fired it up and tuned-in to Kathy’s show. No sooner did I sit down to start in on my lunch did I hear the familiar sound of a certain rhythm guitarist… and then her voice:

Slow down, you talk too fast
I can’t hear what you’re saying
And you know how I like to
Hang on every word

Black Paper Silhouette

Yeah, I can admit it… I had a moment.

After leaving a ridiculous voice mail message for Molly, I picked up the phone and called the station’s request line (336-316-2444) to thank Kathy. Before I knew it, she had me requesting Bad Jokes and Blues and pimping Molly’s running 9pm Tuesday night show at M’Coul’s in downtown Greensboro.

Sure, Last.fm gives me an event page to describe her show, but man, nothing is better than hearing a person that digs the music pass on the info in earnest.

Nothing.

To Kathy and Josh (of J’s Indie/Rock Mayhem, from 6pm - 8pm on Wednesday nights), I look forward to hitting you up at least once a week.

I swear I’ll vary my requests.