Somewhere between Casino Morongo and the only Burger King in Indio, a part of me died on May 1, 2005. I’m exaggerating, but when you half expect to see the Fox News text crawl reveal which celebrities have developed a taste for human flesh, it’s obvious that hyperbole is now the new black (forget pink, it’s over).
Anyway, while driving back from Coachella, my iPod’s tape adapter became snagged on something and the subsequent snap of the wire produced a Bambi’s-mom-gets-shot level of sadness. My library of driving music was decimated. I have a CD changer, but it’s nothing like having your entire library on call. I tried my mom’s radio adapter for the iPod, but that nonsense with finding the right station was like using a ham radio. Plus nothing kills the mood like listening to Elvis Costello and then having it jump to mariachi music as you drive over a hill.
After getting back to L.A., while driving to my internship one day, I had a dilemma: During the commute I needed something to listen to. CDs wouldn’t cut it, and I was forced to go back to an old flame – radio.
An initial listen didn’t inspire confidence. KROQ is still a 10-deep playlist whose DJs are like the unfunny kids who ran for class president and thought they were Dave Chappelle during their speeches. Arrow 93 is now “Jack FM,” which alternates between great (Depeche Mode) and execrable (the “I Know What Boys Like” song). And Power 106 still rattles my windows with an incomprehensible explosion of bass.
My saving grace was the venerable Indie 103.1, L.A.’s truly unique station. But I switched to it during my commute and was instantly disappointed. “Great,” I thought, “I’m sitting in traffic and I’m stuck with ‘Jonesy’s Jukebox.’”
For the uninitiated, “Jonesy’s Jukebox” is a talk show hosted by Steve Jones, former Sex Pistols guitarist. He interviews guests, plays whatever music he pleases and generally hangs out. Before, I found the show to be downright puzzling. Now, choosing between Jonesy and KROQ’s resident tool Stryker, I decided to give the Englishman a chance. Within moments my opinion of Jonesy did a 180.
It took 30 seconds of Jonesy interviewing singer/songwriter Aimee Mann to change my mind. I came in on Jonesy asking Mann if she likes her stepson less because he isn’t technically hers and being met with awkward silence and a bewildered response. Stuff this fascinatingly insane cannot be scripted.
What makes the show so intriguing are the little things. Jonesy, like anyone, has his favorite artists. Actually, he seems to have exactly two: U2 and Frank Sinatra. Don’t be surprised if you turn Indie on at 1:30 p.m. and suddenly hear Old Blue Eyes crooning “My Way,” which is a baffling yet strangely fitting change of pace from typical rock radio.
And as an example of some of the bizarre things Jonesy does on the air, he once told a story about hearing a “really great CD by some chick” whom he’d never heard of at a mall and buying it, and then proceeded to play it on the air. The chick? None other than Ashlee Simpson. This is all par for the course on Jonesy’s show.
Now truthfully, I do miss my music. Yet hearing Jonesy sing the Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy in the UK” and forgetting the words despite having been in the band is infinitely more interesting than anything on my iPod.
So really, radio still has the potential to be awesome, but only when it’s run by someone who has no idea what in God’s name he’s doing – especially when he takes pride in that fact.
Think KCRW is L.A.’s truly unique station? E-mail Humphrey at mhumphrey@media.ucla.edu.