Confessions of another radio broadcast host

I'm new to KZSM, but not new on the radio. You can hear my show on Monday evening from 8 p.m. to 9 p.m. to 104.1 and KZSM.org. “Search for the first rock'n'roll song” follow the extensive roots of rock through the productions of small regional record companies with domestic music that you have never heard of.

When you grew up with radio, you know the power of hearing at night. With four of their senses, their ears and their minds deliver brain disasters, which range from insomnia to nightmares. However, there is an escape. Follow the light. The radio dial lights. A beacon to a world of unlimited freedoms.

I was the child who constantly called the ten-watt radio station “Underground”. Finally they said: “Okay, child, ride my bike into the studio and I will show you how.” Finally I got my first radio job -the ligaments in the late night -Saturday shift that nobody wanted. But I could deliver the hourly station ID card. After my first week, station management limited my broadcast identifies to the FCC at least from two words. Nevertheless, the unbridled enthusiasm of my “Kunc, Greeley” cannot be crowned by anyone with an ounce. Radio was my freedom.

I took a ten -year break from the radio to follow my career in New Orleans. In the painful consequences of Katrina in 2006 I discovered that new opportunities for radio had been magical. I patched my roof when an employee showed me that a digital recorder in palm size could also keep my lifespan of records for interviews. And there was more! The processing software had replaced the razor blades, the fatty pencils and the overcrowded ashes of the tedious, adverse processing. Music players no longer meant frustration about the broadcaster's mechanics. The Internet offered websites of record collectors that curated and archived every forgotten song that has ever been created.

My memories of radio were replaced by a new vision. I would act with recorders to escape Radio's Achilles Heal, music shortages. Between songs I was able to absorb quirky clamps to frame the next song. And with a music player I was able to keep my notes every week from the hundreds of thousands of songs that I exchanged my notes every week from the hundreds of thousands of songs that I exchanged my early day of rock and roll.

All of this story was packed in an hour on Monday evening and only curated for her.