Back in 1965, I lost my radio in an explosion. Yep. It just BLEW UP on the patio, just as Sonny Bono was whining-out “I Got You Babe.” Man, it was weird. No shit; this really happened. Smoke came out and everything. Now I realize it was an omen – soon FM formats would suck up the Holy Spirit of cool radio and snuff out the pilot light that was true rock & roll. For years, I’ve offered up my rhythm-horny ears as sacrificial lambs to something – ANYTHING – that could justify my owning a radio. (Heck, if it weren’t for baseball, my squawk box woulda gotten the old heave-ho ages ago.) Then, one day I heard the news…
IT’S TWELVE O’CLOCK
MIDNIGHT AND IT’S
TIME TO HOWL!
This eekin’ beacon was reekin’ with the same sonic earblasts that had once transformed a handful of plastic wires and transistors into a secondary heart. And who, disguised as Cub Koda, wild-mannered DJ for a 50,000 watter, fights a never ending battle for the truth, justice, and the American way, jumpin’, shoutin’, and gigglin’ through platters, chatters, and all that matters? Yesiree Bobalu, it’s the same Cubby the K we know and love as the “Vinyl Junkie” in his GOLDMINE mag column, and the same ol’ boy whose wax (fromhis teen pud combo the Del Tinos to his current rockaroonie blooz boy shenanigans to his shiny gold disc days of Brownsville Station and “Gropin’ In the Girls’ Room”) ranks him right up there with… um, lemme see… Nervous Norvus? Yep! And now right here in the nifty fifty we got us one dee-fried and bona fida Moondog blastin’ a regular riot known as THE BIG DISC JOCKEY SHOW IN THE SKY! But hey, this hi-fidelity shin-dig now knows no bounds, ‘cause plucked rip and ready from outta those high frequency ozone-rippin’ airwaves above our heads is a microgroove pancake featuring the Cubmaster hisself roarin’ and growlin’ and preachin’ and teachin’ and celebratin’ the advent of electricity like he’d been struck by lightning!
Ah, relief at last – an aural antidote to Sonny Bono!
Dive in and dig!
KICKS MAGAZINE, USA