My parents started listening to WBCN not long after it went on air. Beginning their 24 hour format in the summer of 1968, 'BCN was part of the FM Underground movement that began with KSAN in San Francisco the same year. The idea was a freeform format, the DJs playing whatever they felt like playing. A Grateful Dead song might be followed by a piece by Beethoven followed by a comedy piece by Lenny Bruce. Or the DJ might go with a theme, playing songs about water, or night time or cars. The idea was to turn the audience onto something new, to create an unobtrusive companion as people went through their day. To create a community using radio. There were many stations in the US that switched to this format in the late 60's, but WBCN was one of the most enduring and respected.
I grew up listening to 'BCN, and learned a lot about rock and roll from the DJs there. They aired national and international bands that nobody else did. I heard LOCAL bands on the radio during prime time, not at 1:00 in the morning. They played "deep cuts," tracks from familiar albums that other stations weren't allowed to play. They hosted the music industry's greatest names in the studio, sometimes just to talk, but usually to play live for the radio audience. They'd broadcast live concerts from local venues as they were happening for the people who couldn't get into the show. They played new releases before they hit the stores (so you could tape them on your analog cassette deck).
I also learned a lot about Boston and the rock scene there, the bands, the personalities, the clubs, the trivia, the places to go when I finally got my driver's license. And for news, Danny Schecter "The News Dissector" reported in greater detail than the big media outlets, letting the station's liberal leanings wave like a freak flag. They took care of their listeners as if they mattered. All those DJs were like a group of friends that I could count on to play good music and entertain me as I went about my day. Charles Laquidara would wake me up on the radio with his silliness, get me to work in the car and get me through the morning at work. Captain Ken Shelton would join Charles for Mishegaas, their game show, and then take over for lunch hour and get me through to Mark Parentau, who would handle the commute home. Carter Alan handled evenings and Albert O manned the overnight slot, taking care of the night shift and the night owls with strange and wonderful music.
There were many other DJs and staff members from over the station's history whose names I'm missing, but that was a typical day with WBCN in the early to late 80's, which is when I listened to them most consciously. They had a conversational tone that Howard Stern (who went to school in Boston) would later claim as something he made up. They were genuine and actually funny, relying on character more than raunchiness (though that wasn't out of the question either). The 'BCN jocks made a big deal out of rock stars' birthdays, did special programming for the holidays. They played "Alice's Restaurant" at Noon on Thanksgiving. They played rock and roll Christmas songs on Xmas. Every new day was ushered in by a track from Led Zeppelin at midnight each day. Rock stars the world over understood that WBCN was a bastion of rock and roll, a place that was worthy of visiting and talking to the DJs on-air. They supported local music, helping bands get contracts with the big companies. They made a profit and gave something back to the community that they relied on to be profitable.
WBCN was such a good radio station at one point that it was easy to take it for granted, as something that was expected in your world. I recall J.J. Jackson, one-time 'BCN DJ and one of MTV's first VJ's, visiting the station and answering caller's questions on-air. Just about every caller asked the same thing: "why doesn't MTV play good music like WBCN does?" To which Jackson kept replying "you people in Boston don't understand how good you have it." And he was right. But we didn't know it yet.
Pulling the plug on them is just finishing the job that CBS started years ago. This radio eulogy is late in coming. They've sucked since the mid-90s when they changed formats and made themselves sound like every other station in the area. It had been a slow, painful degradation to watch. I remember interviewing for a (non-paying) intern position with Charles, and realizing that things were about to change massively around there. They say never to meet your heroes, but Charles was everything I'd thought him and more: an arrogant and crazy celebrity, informing me that he was going to treat me like a piece of shit if I got the job. It was like meeting a family member you knew everything about but had never been in the room with. It was a rare honor that I still recall vividly.
Now as I type this, I'm listening to the station for the last time as a music station. Ironically, Bradley J, who I always felt was the schill of the station, is in charge. He keeps trying to make it sound like this change is good, like this change has anything to do with taking care of the Boston listening audience, like this is anything but a move to enhance a corporation's profits. He tries to sound properly somber and he's drunk. He definitely earned the right to sit in that seat, but it's a flat out piece of bullshit that he's selling us. It's insincere, blasphemy. There's nothing good about having lost WBCN in the first place (unless you're one of the people who made money off of the move). WBCN used to create an audience by informing them, but BJ won't touch on that. He won't go near the idea that corporate radio sucks, that corporate radio doesn't care about the listener. He won't bring up the fact that corporate radio allowed the rise of the iPod, the isolation of the listeners, the thievery of the public airwaves by greedy pieces of shit in three piece suits.
But I listen just the same because this is It. This is The End. He's actually playing some good music. Even the shitty fucking commercials talking about the shitty fucking sports station taking its place are bearable. Because this is IT. This is the major station that I grew up on.
And now he's playing Rush's "Spirit of Radio," a song that has always epitomized what radio should be. There are so few places to hear this song anymore. He's fucking with me because he knows I'm talking shit about him.
But now he's playing Fat Boy Slim, who never had anything to do with rock and roll, in my opinion. This song epitomizes the era after I stopped listening, after the CBS shitheads started turning the station into the same station as all of the others they owned. It's pre-programmed electronic disco.
Next comes a replay of Bradley J and Oedepus at the David Bowie show at Sullivan Stadium back in the 80's, and there it is, the thing that's missing---the passion. These guys are losing their shit over meeting David Bowie. They're hyperventilating on the air live about this rock God. Nobody cares about modern musicians like this. They're actually smoking one of David Bowie's snuffed out cigarettes they took from his limo. Even if they were all fucked up on drugs, this is still cool to listen to. They don't let DJs do this anymore. The people who run modern radio stations don't care about anyone but the stockholders. Personalities only get in the way of the scripted format, the strict playlist, the commericals.
Bradley suggests that we lived the rock and roll life through WBCN, and he is absolutely correct. This is the best thing he's ever said over the radio.
I crack a Stone Arrogant Bastard strong ale as the clock runs down to the last hour and BJ plays "Live Wire" by Motley Crue, a song that in-studio guest Oedipus would have never condoned back in the day. I recall him once stating that 'BCN's success stemmed from their unwillingness to play heavy metal during usual hours (but they did have a metal show).
It's getting close to The End and I don't really care about all the bullshit I wrote above. I'm just increasingly dismayed that the human race is lining up in the boxcars and waiting to die in so many ways. We're just supposed to understand that business is business and it's more important to allow profit to rule all our lives than it is to fight for the things that matter. WBCN was something that mattered, but money won out. It always seems to, yet for all the money, nothing seems to be getting better in the world for all that wealth. Ironically, Oedipus is talking about how hard he used to fight for the station back in the day. He's talking about fighting the man in the same sentence as talking about capitulating to some stupid sports station concept. When did he stop fighting for this station's integrity? There's something I don't understand here, and I'm sure I never will.
As if driving home the truth of the matter, the commercials pile up towards The End. Dunkin Donuts is going to be a big part of the new sports station. Predatory lending companies promise instant debt relief. Comcast's Student Bundle offer is a "big deal." HD Radio is infinite like the stars. Gene Simmons sells some shit. This is all it's ever been about in the end. Except it was okay when the station didn't suck. If corporates understood this, maybe the iPod wouldn't be kicking their asses.
Bradley signs off as best he can. He plays "I Feel Free," the first song ever played on WBCN. He plays Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and while I'm impressed, I think it would have made so much more sense to play "Echoes," a song about the connections between people, which was so important to the station in its heyday.
But the emotions are difficult anyway. This is one of those songs that Albert O would play at 3:00 in the morning when you needed it most, when the power of the drugs you'd taken were in need of a filter. This was in the true spirit of the WBCN of my youth. Of many people's youths. The memory of BCN will shine on, but that there's nothing to take the place of the station's ideal is not a sign of the times, it's a decision made by people who have nothing to do with entertainment and everything to do with money. WBCN earned its money back in the day with quality content and radio talent. And it's a sad thing to see that corporate policy is quite prepared to continue delivering inferior product.
In the last minutes, Bradley J plays a fast collage of all the snippets throughout the station's years--the old station calls, the April Fool's parade, Charles, Ken--it's like the station giving it's one last gasp out into space as it dies, a concentration of all that I remember about WBCN. The words "Over and Out" are the last thing we hear before the static. It's a very sad moment, like the death of an old friend. Nothing drives home the loss like that last moment.
In the end, the world needs another sports media outlet like it needs another war. Sports can be an interesting and inspiring pastime, but like WBCN, it's been sold out for a long time to souless dickheads concerned with balance sheets more than content.
