Prologue



I think THIS dude should play me in the original HBO series.

 I've been asked, (no, told) to write it all down. I'm not getting any younger and the memory synapses don't synapse much anymore.

I've led an interesting life.

One filled with incredible sadness and incredible joy. I've loved, been loved and have seen a career sky rocket and fall back down to earth. It's been a royal and fun journey and while I can still remember some of it, I thought now was the time to seriously get going on "the book".
I've met Presidents, rock royalty and reached out to hopefully thousands of listeners along the way, some who have made an indelible mark on my life.

If this sounds a little narcissistic, that's OK. It is.

But, who better to talk about a farm kid, growing up in the middle of nowhere with an alcoholic mother and a very removed father who found his calling through the radio and made his name, fame and fortune telling stories that wove through the fabric of the music? No one I know of. The stories forth coming are they way I remember them. Whether that's the way it came down or not may be interpreted through debate but not here.

I have dated beautiful women and have had some interesting tales about what it was like to be the number one jock on the number one radio station in three different cities spanning the 30 golden years of rock radio.

I will practice here, in front of people who are acquaintances, people who know me, people who were there and the people I'm writing about. This is a writing exercise that will be mostly the way it happened.

There might be a few instances where the truth has been stretched a bit to tell a good story. It is up to you, dear reader, to figure out where those parts are.

So, with great homage to WKRP in Cincinnati (who could only go so far on network TV) and hopefully working toward a Showtime or Cinemax series (sex, drugs and rock and roll baby), we'll put the book up for trial here, then see what the reaction is.

Again, 90% of this story is true.

My kids have been warned.

Crazy Train

1979

In a galaxy long ago and far away, I used to be someone.
In another lifetime ago, I was the guy you listened to on the radio as you went to or from work.
Or, if you were in high school or college, I was the bright good evening face that was heard but rarely seen while you were doing your homework. I was with you washing your car, playing frisbee in the park or sometimes yes, even while you were having sex(that thought always turned me on for some reason). Sometimes, we woke up together, sometimes we got really stoned together and I played a song that made you go..."oh,wow".

kfmh muscatine just turned new years day 1978

If you liked (classic) rock, I was the guy who played the new Zeppelin, or AC/DC or the new Stones record on the local powerhouse rock radio station. Whether it was Muscatine, the Quad Cities, Kansas City, Denver or St. Louis, I somehow talked my way on to great legendary rock stations that had a built in great loyal fan base.  All I had to do on my gig was to not fuck it up. This was a time when radio mattered and 40 shares were not uncommon.

1979-1985

I have always defined luck as the crossroads of talent and opportunity. In my case, luck was just dumb luck. It was lucky that a tape of mine landed on Max Floyd's desk right when he was looking to fill a night time opening at KY 102 in Kansas City. Jumping from market 100 (Quad Cities) to market 25 (Kansas City) was not something that a lot of people did. At the time, a person would have to stop in market 44 Nashville or Indy first.

Luck. Just dumb blind luck.

Anyway, as I said, I was king of the world at 23. I tried to never take what I had for granted, I always accepted the opportunity to go out and meet the people. Many years ago, a wise program director told me, "Randy, in radio, you are ALWAYS running for election. Every chance you get, shake hands, kiss babies, one man cuming goes a long way in establishing a relationship with your listeners. If they've met you and like you, they'll tell their friends, who'll tell their friends and so on..."

Sage advice.

Anyway, back to my point and my point being I used to be somebody on the radio that mattered.
I got to interview a number of people, some I liked (Bob Seger, Robin Trower), some I loathed (George Thorogood, John Entwhistle) and some I loved and couldn't wait to see again. When we would have someone on that mattered to the people, I made sure they knew in advance who, what and when. There were interviews I've done that the subject and I hit it off we became acquaintances (Alice Cooper, Steve Perry, Yoko) and one where there was a fist fight in the studio (John McEnroe).

My favorite guy to interview by far was Ozzy.

Ozzy got it. He understood the role radio played in his career and he was very appreciative. The first time I talked to Ozzy was 1981 on the heels of the just released "Blizzard of Oz". It hadn't quite taken off yet but the buzz was building. This "Crazy Train" song was getting a lot of requests and he was just right on the cusp of this thing taking off and being huge. We announced he was coming on that night at KY. "Hey, if you have any questions you'd like me to ask Ozzy, he'll be here about 6:40 or so, give me a call at 5767-102..."
The station was situated in the same building as 61 country and WDAF TV at the time. The back doors were hardly ever locked at night because people came and went throughout the night. Some high school kids got wind to just walk in the back door, met no resistance and informed their friends that Ozzy was coming and filled the halls upstairs.
Not good.
Ozzy shows up in what looked like a feather boa, spandex tights and a tutu. He hangs and parties with them in the hall, takes pictures, signs stuff and proceeded to do a killer interview, talking about how confident he was on this and thought he had the best band in rock history behind him.
I interviewed him again in 1984 and then again at the KSHE studios on April 2nd 1986.

How do I know the date?...let me explain.

The previous day was April Fools day. In my radio career, I've had a few indiscretions on the radio in which, later on, having given it more thought, I probably wouldn't have done.
This was one of those days.

max weinberg 4/1/86

Earlier on that April Fools day, Max Weinberg had stopped by the studio. He was out promoting his new book and he was great, the show had some great momentum and I somehow wanted to keep that momentum going.
Realizing what day it was, I asked Abigail, our promotions gal at the time to assist me with a big April fools joke. At this time, we were in a pissing match with the Libyans. We shot down one of their planes or something so I played off that. We set up the ruse that played out like this...

Abigail, while I was on the air, walked into the studio and said "this just came across the wire..."
So I stopped what I was doing, ruffled some papers and said..."this just in, Libyans jets, based in Cuba have just now bombed the entire southern coastline of Florida and are working their way up the eastern coast as we speak, more details as we get them..."

The phones went nuts and I didn't answer them. Every line rang, even the office lines (it was after six).

EVERY line rang. How cool.

One more time for good measure, I said that the jets were heading this way and were coming after KSHE for being the best rock station on Earth, April Fools and good night.

My phone rang at 7 the next morning.
It was Rick Balis, the program director.
He doesn't usually call me at that time. He doesn't usually call me at all.
"You have 20 minutes to get into my office and tell me what happened yesterday afternoon. If you're not here in 20 minutes, you're fired." Shit, he knew it took me 25 minutes to get there.
He didn't think it was funny.
At all.
"I should fire you right here." He started smoking up a storm and that wasn't a good sign. When he finishes a smoke in about three minutes, he's not happy.
At all.
I was pretty humbled and showed great remorse.
Damn, I just got here ten months ago, I was starting to get comfortable and now....way to go Randy.
He cooled down and ordered me to answer every call that came in about the incident (and there were a LOT of pissed off people that day including members of my own staff), then go on the air and apologize every time I opened the microphone. Every time.

Enter Mr. Osbourne.
Ozzy arrived that day in fine form. He was pretty lucid and fun. He actually remembered the incident in the hallways of the old KY building. "Is that the time the fucking cops came and fucking wanted me autograph?"
Yes it was.
Yes, our own TV station called the cops on their sister radio station.
So, after every time Ozzy and I chat on the air, I say something like "..I was a real ass yesterday and didn't mean to scare anyone, it was a bad April Fools joke...blah blah blah..."
So after a couple of these, off mike Ozzy leans over and says
"So what the fuck didja do, man?"
I told him and he laughed hysterically. "That's fucking rich and you got in trouble for THAT? Fucking pussies HAHAHAHA"

and before the wise cracks of "porn stache" start, this is how we dressed back then. mullet included. 4/2/86

The fun part with Ozzy was trying to get him to read liners promoting the station. With most acts, you'll give them a script and they'd roll through it..."Hi, this is Jeff Carlisi of 38 special and you're listening to real rock radio KSHE 95 in St. Louis" and they'd be done.
Not Ozzy.
Twenty minutes later and he's still going at it "K..H...S...E. rockin real radio"
"No, Ozzy, it's KSHE Real rock radio..."
"Oh, OK.. Hi this is Ozzy Osbourne and I'm listening to HSKE ...really rocks"

No Ozzy. uh..Sharon?

Stagefright

I spent the latter part of my adolescence in the Quad Cities, and after having been really removed from the music scene in Ava, MO it was nice to live in a place where performers came to once in a while. While the Quads were not Chicago or St. Louis when it came to destinaton cities, there were acts who came through regularly. I saw REO at the Racetrack with Queen opening for $1.50, stuff like that. My first concert was in 1972, when Rare Earth, Sugarloaf along with Flo and Eddie appeared at the Rock Island Armory. I took my at the time girlfriend and we sat way the hell up and way the hell away from the stage. It seemed the sound bounced all over the place and then finally nestled into my feedback laden ears. After that, it was Rare Earth again I think with a very young, very young skinny three piece band named Rush opening. I remember because they had a sonng called "Working Man" that was deafening. I then started to attend shows on a regular basis, and each show was usually opened by a goon who would come out, introduce himself and then read a list upcoming shows. He would normally end his spiel with something like...."you guys fucking ROCK!"

My friend Jay "Stoneman" Stone being THAT guy.

The crowd would go wild for a nano second and he would exit stage left.
I always wanted to be THAT guy.










You don't have to ask me why I remember the very first time I did this. It was at "the Ranch" in Port Byron Illinois in 1977. Doucette ("Mama Let Him Play") was the headliner.
This was also the very first time I ever did cocaine, maybe that's why I remember it so much.
Doucette was Jerry Doucette, a very talented guitarist who had a minor hit in the midwest with a song "Mama Let Him Play"...featured here..



I was working at 99+ in Muscatine (this show was about 60 miles from there but we were they only station within 75 miles playing the song), plus my Mom and Dad lived right down the road, so I could crash and then get up the next day. Since this is my first time doing this, I get the premise but I'm not sure on the procedure yet, so I go digging around and I end up backstage with Jerry and his band.

They had just arrived and were feeling pretty ok. I asked him how he wanted to handle the whole thing as far as time and that. He looked at me and asked right out loud if had ever done cocaine.
Now, let's put this in context...in 1977, cocaine was GOOD for you. It helped you focus, it filled you with energy and it wasn't addicting.
"Sure", I said, "lots of times."
"Cool, this is really good stuff so don't waste anything, but for building me up on stage I'll share..."
I had never even seeen cocaine before, but I knew this would be no problem and I couldn't wait.
He promptly took a professional looking kit out and lined up some very "healthy" lines.
"You good?' he asked,
"I'm cool" was my reply.
I proceded to lean down ever so low over the "healthy" line and so not knowing what I was doing snorted it in for about a nano second before everything came back up through my nose and all over everywhere with a gusto. Once the coke got to the inner workings of my nose, it rejected it all over the "healthy" lines, completely obliterating all traces of blow that was on the mirror.
Nice move.
I thought I was dead, my short radio career over for having wa$ted a lot of blow from the headliner.
I looked at him in horror and he back at me with disgust.
"Rookie. Now, let me show you how to do this."
So, he did.
Let's cupple this with the adrenaline rush of getting up on stage for the first time ever to be THAT guy in front of a rowdy crowd of about 300 people approximately 20 minutes later.
Yikes.
All I remember from that night was the manager of the bar telling me to "clean up my act", Jerry Doucette breaking into "Hey Jude" during the solo in "Mama Let Him Play" and me playing the announcer on "Live Bullett"' by getting up on stage and yelling "DO YOU WANT HEAR SOME MORE YOU FUCKERS? COME ON NOW DO YA?" when he was clearly out of material.
He asked me to  "get off the fucking stage."
By the way, I drove all the way back to Muscatine that night and was ready to go for my on air duties at 5am. Probably had a killer show.

I've introduced some epic shows. I did announcements at two "Summer Jams" in Kansas City in front of at least 50,000 people. I've had the pleasure to say ..."ladies and gentlemen, the Allman Brothers Band". I also came full circle as I've introduced Rush at Kemper Arena, Rare Earth at the Uptown. I was there Shooting Star in Denver and the Moody Blues at Red Rocks. Robin Trower, Robin Williams. I always volunteered for that duty. That guy.



So, if you're going to be THAT guy, the guy who does stage announcements, keep this in mind...don't give an audience a chance to boo you. They will. I did the announcements at a Judas Priest/Molly Hatchet show early in my career that went like this..."Hey everybody thanks for coming, my name is Randy Raley from KY 102......" The boos started rolling in from the back of the arena to the front and I wasn't quite sure what was happening. Then I was. It was a Judas Priest, Molly Hatchet show for God's sakes. I quickly got off the stage.

Better way..."Hey everybody, I'm Randy Raley from KY 102...you guys FUCKING ROCK!"

Only Sixteen

(in keeping with naming blogs after songs)

Someone on facebook posted a picture of the WLS Music Survey from pretty much this date in 1972.
I have always marked my days in high school not by the calendar date (who could remember?) but with what was on the radio at that time.

What a trip looking at the different genres represented.

On the survey, Al Green was next to Led Zeppelin, who was next to Betty Wright and The Osmonds. What a glorious time to be musically aware.

I also remember what my life was like at the time. The previous September, I went back to the East Moline Illinois School District after having spent the previous four years on a farm four miles outside of Ava, Mo. When I say farm, I mean the whole deal. Horses, pigs, cows, sheep tomatoes, corn, you name it, we farmed it. I was pretty isolated from the world and living there was about to drive me insane. At that age, the whole world was spinning around and I wasn't on it, I could only watch from a distance in that isolation. There was a certain magic about it though, looking at it from this age. Not sure what my life would have been without the discipline knowing a job must be done every day, rain, snow, heat or shine.

I had attended the EM school district in my early years (I went to McKinley grade school which was certainly on the wrong side of the tracks in a town that was situated on the wrong side of the tracks). East Moline was probably the least glamorous of the Quad Cities. East Moline was where all the "shops" were located. International Harvester, John Deere and their spin off shops had plants working 24/7 365. East Moline and Silvis were populated by factory families, not neccessarily crude but having a certain toughness about them. Certainly middle class and back then, we had it pretty good, but East Moline had a certain stigma. Don't fuck with us, we will fuck with you back. When Campbell's Island (see previous posts) is part of your city limits, it's pretty certain you're not going to be invited to be another country's sister city. I think Moline was pretty indignant they had to share the same name. In fact, I've stated it before that East Moline is now NOT a part of the four cities that make up the Quad Cities, it's been replaced by Bettendorf. An entire city has been banished for bad behavior. With us, it's a badge of honor.

My graduating class in Ava was 68. My graduating class at United Township High School was easily ten times that. And then some. In those four years removed from civilization, I apparently gained a southern accent which was so not cool with the multi cultured student population at UT. "Randy from Mayberry" and "Buck" were pretty common. After having my ass handed to me a couple of times, I realized the first thing I needed to do was lose the accent and fast. Adjusting from an all white rural school to a student populaton with the last names of Soliz, Allejo, Ramirez along with dudes who were quite proud of the length of their afros was quite challenging.

At the time of this survey, I was beginning my second semester of adjusting and I've decided to just get along with everyone who'll get along with me. I got high for the first time the previous Thanksgiving weekend with my cousin who was at that time doing heroin on a pretty regular basis. I was so NOT into that, but I saw no harm in smoking weed. Weed at that time wasn't very plentiful (or very good) and while I enjoyed it, it wasn't something I did a lot of because I didn't have time or the money.

I was working just about all of the time. My job with the drive in theatre ended the previous October and my mother was now the "manager" of a local diner named "Harvey's". Harvey's was at the corner of 34th st. and 5th avenue in Moline(now way long gone). It was located right down by the shops and business was almost always brisk. Harvey was Harvey Mathwig, who constantly hit on my mom. I thought he has a creep and an ass. Harvey had a heart attack in November 71 and my mom took over the regular operations of the restaurant. Harvey's was open 24/7 365 and served "hearty" food as most diners did back then. We were one of the only places in town where you could get Henny Penny chicken that was deep fried under pressure and quite popular. God help you if you ran out of chicken. It was that good. To this day I have a weakness for the smell of freshly fried chicken. It takes me straight back there.

In December of 71, I (prodded by mom) decided it would be a real good idea if I helped her at the restaurant and learn how to do whatever needed to be done. So...here we are, January of 1972.

I went to school from 7:40 to 2:10, took the bus home, rode to work and back with my mother by 3 and work until 11 pm. On Friday and Saturday nights, I worked from 11pm until 7am.  Sometimes from  3pm the previous day to 7am the next , a "double" as we liked to call them. You could really make some money those days and at that age, I was pretty much invincible. I must admit, I had a few white cross stoked doubles. Hey, you did what you had to do. I cooked, bussed tables, washed the dishes, waited on tables, was the janitor, ran the steam table, cooked the chicken, manned the prep table...you name it, I did it. Sunday night was my only night off. My mom made me a deal that if I would spend at least an hour sometime during the evening to do my homework, she'd cover for me and pay me to do so.

Again, Harvey's was open all night every night. This was the first place my mother ingrained into my DNA the importance of service. You try cooking to a restaurant full of drunk assholes at 3 am on a Saturday morning when the place is so jammed you cannot breathe. "Bite your tongue and smile" my mom would say. So I did. However, when stuff was directed at my mother, I did not have much patience. There were a certain group of regulars who loved my mother. My mother was one hell of a waitress. She took pride in it. You were honored to be served by her. She made you feel you were the only customer she had. I would stand back and marvel at her way with people. I learned so much from how she went about her business. One night about this time, there was a gentleman who was getting a bit rude. Now, you must first realize that my mother could kick the shit out of just about anyone and took no garbage from anyone either. This guy, however, in the wee hours of a drunken evening, went one step too far. I walked over to his table, stood in front of him with a steak knife in my hand and said..."no one in this resaurant eats until you apologize to my mother." "Fuck your mother" was the reply and bang, right front of his hand went the steak knife. In a split second, four guys from the table behind him surrounded him, pulled him from the table, drug him outside and returned about ten minutes later having dealt him a bit of regular customer justice.

Pretty heady stuff for someone who wasn't even sixteen.

One thing about Harvey's though was the radio. It was always on. No matter what hour of the day, day or night 24/7, the radio was on. While the maturation process of this fifteen year old was going on, these were the songs that make up the soundtrack of those hours spent at the restaurant, learning to be responsible, accountable and knowing the satisfaction of working hard and establishing the work ethic pattern that has been passed to me from my mom and on to my son and daughters. I bought my own car, my own stereo, paid for my own clothes and all the records I wanted.

The station that was on back the was KSTT in Davenport. KSTT was a"feeder station" for those talents on their way to bigger and better markets and at that time, I was so lucky to listen to guys who went on and made it to bigger markets while honing their craft entertaining me. Bobby Rich, Jeff Pidgeon, JJ Jeffries, Chuck Hamilton, David Bradley (David Craig), Steve Bridges and so on. I didn't watch TV much, but I could tell you when the guys on the radio changed shifts. While I was toiling in the restaurant, they were the guys who told funny jokes over the intros of the songs and would once in a while surprise me with a great song I hadn't heard before. That's about the time I decided I really needed a plan if I wanted to do that. It wasn't long after that I went over to the local radio school and chatted with the owner (who happened to be Chuck Hamilton). That's another story for down the road.


The great thing about this radio survey? For each and every person who looks at it, it will be a completely different set of circumstrances. For me, it meant being a part of something that, while it was happening, completely sucked at the time. I had no free time to play much. I guess I made up for that later on, but when these songs were on the radio, the basic foundation of my entire life was being etched in stone. Times were good, everyone in my family was alive and young and my biggest worries were making sure the paper was turned in on time or making sure the eggs were done the same time as the bacon, potatoes and toast.

I miss you mom, thanks for your valuable lesson.
I didn't know at the time how valuable it was.
A lot of these songs still remind me of you.

To the tune of the 40 most popular songs on this date 40 years ago....



click on picture to make it more clear

Had To Cry Today

* in my continuing effort to be clever, I am naming blog posts after songs. This one was done by Blind Faith in 1969

It still boggles my mind the power and effect on my life music has.

There have been certain songs in my life...I'll call them mile posts...that have come into not only my sense of hearing but have captured my soul. There have been some that, at a later date, have no longer been appealing to me. There are some songs I can listen to and cry every time I hear them because they have connected with some  strange musical umbilicord chord.

Even though some of my friends hate the song, "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg resonates with me. Mainly because of who I was with at the time, but most importantly, I've lived that song.
In my life.

Music rescuced me at various points in my youth but really from all of the white noise of my high school years. From the countless nights spent alone as those nights marched on through my adolescence holed up in my room, to working the over night shift at a restaurant and becoming good friends with the overnight DJ at KSTT in Davenport because I wanted to be like him.

The one constant has been music. All kinds of music, from Hank to Hendrix, Motown, to Yes and Led Zeppelin (don't forget the Beatles), music has been the one constant to mark where I've been and what I've been doing in my life.

I cried today when I found out Dobie Gray died. Probably a silly thing to do, I didn't know him. How can I put into words the magic I found in three minutes and fifty five seconds of his contribution to the soundtrack of my life? "Drift Away", when it was released in March of 1973 was like a light in the darkness. It reached out of the radio, went through my ears, past my head and captured my heart and soul. Don't ask why. I've learned not to do that. Especially with me,It's usually a complicated answer.
The power, mystery and mastery of music.

Most of us stumbled and bumbled our way through high school. I tried to just survive. So, when something, anything grabs your attention, and makes you feel better, it usually means something. This did. A lifelong friendship.

"Day after day, I'm more confused... yet I look for the light through the pourin' rain...
you know that's a game that I hate to loose..and I'm feelin' the strain...ain't it a shame?"

Holy crap! What a song, what a voice. Go on...

"Beginnin' to think that I'm wastin' time...I don't understand the things I do
The world outside looks so unkind...now I'm countin' on you, to carry me through"

Oh man, am I digging this, my question to Dobie was, how did you get so inside my head? Not only was this song getting to my head...but also my heart

"And when my mind is free, you know a melody can move me.
And when I'm feelin' blue, the guitar's comin' through...to soothe me.
Thanks for the joy that you've given me....I want you to know I believe in your song,
and rhythm and rhyme and harmony...you help me along...makin' me strong"

Right about at this point this 17 year old realized that no matter the resistance, no matter all the macho I could muster, I was a quivering bowl of jello. I had found a lifetime friend in this song and when things were not what I had hoped through my life I could always call on a friend for a sweet refrain...

"Yea, give me the beat boys and free my soul...I wanna get lost in your rock n roll..and drift away..."

And I did drift away, to free my soul and I got lost in my rock and roll.

This song will be played at my memorial service...right up there with "Born to Run" and "Into the Mystic".

One of the people I regret not being able to meet.

I think I would have said thanks...thanks very much.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dobie_Gray

Happy Anniversary

Hey bro,
You'd be 63 today.
Really?
I guess that's one nice thing about leaving this world early, no one knows what you look like when you get old. It's been 18 long years, bro. I sometimes wonder how on Earth you could leave me here. But, I know you are in a far better place....playing cards with people who know how to play euchre...and pitch.
Like I always told you...always count on your partner to get at least one.

It's your 63rd birthday. 18 years too late.

Goodbye Again

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on." -- Steve Jobs

Things Goin On'

Lynyrd Skynyrd 1973 (I'm trying to name blog posts after songs).

I have a very good friend who has a completely different take on everything. He is interesting, witty and he will challenge you to think. We usually discuss our "theories" in the sauna. Sometimes we'll get talking so much that the next thing we know, we're almost passed out. We had a very interesting discussion about religion the other day and his postulation was this...

We're a very young planet,comparatively. Our sun is a "new" sun, not an old one. So, if there is indeed a planet out there who has evolved way past us, they have the answers we've been seeking. Everything we know is wrong, starting with the theory of relativity. We can go faster than the speed of light, other "species" have done it and have visited us in the past.

He thinks that we are one big experiment. When this planet was much more sparsely populated, a being from another world was put here to teach people how to live their lives. His name was Jesus. He came with the message of peace and love and taking care of each other. He was proven to have created miracles just to show the world that he was the one to follow.

Yes, he said, the words of the bible are true.

The experiment went like this...we'll put this being on this very young planet and see how many people will follow him and his word.  We'll set him up where he has a physical presence but he also knew that in order for the Earth to follow him, he must show that there is a place where there is everlasting life and that for the people on this earth, you must be like he was in deed and actions. 

He died, went "home" and returned to spread the word that, indeed, there is such a place in the sky. Those who do believe and live their lives as he taught them will, when they die, have their spirit transported to this far off planet ("heaven"), and those who don't...won't.

We also discussed "Pascal's Wager". This was put forth by the mathematician in the middle ages who threw something like this out for people to think about....while the presence of God has not been proven, if indeed, there is a God, I couldn't imagine facing him and saying..."I didn't believe in you."

So, whether or not you believe in God is your opinion, I, for one, will not take that chance.

Now, about the first part, I can't totally discount him. If Jesus did come from a far and away more developed civilization to come here and try and save the world, that's not too far off from his message. Is heaven another dimension that we know nothing about? It hasn't been proven. But, then again, we're disproving just about everything we know now.

We know so little. We don't know 1% of what we don't know. I know that I'll live my life believing in God and his Son.

I look forward to the day I can look the Father in his eyes and say, "through everything that's happened to me on this Earth, I never lost my faith in you."

I'll probably puff my chest out a bit, too.

Wanderlust

..is a song by Paul McCartney on his "Tug of War" release, so the record is still intact.

Every once in a while, I'll go to http://www.allaccess.com/ website which is for radio people. I'll take a look at the job postings and wonder... Today, I saw a posting for a General manager in Palm Springs CA. I then went to mapquest and looked at where it was and then daydreamed about a place far away....

I'm needed here. Maybe this is what God put me here for.

At this time, I'm not sure I have any answers for anything. And time goes by slowly but surely. Tuesday is the day.

I can tell you right now that even without all of this, October sucks.

My dad, mother, brother and mother in law have all died in October.

I wish I could sleep for a month. Who am I kidding, I just wish I could sleep.

Maybe this time, the law of averages catches up with me and October is a good month? Not feeling it.

If you are reading this blog and are a believer...I can use all the help I can get.

"Lost and lonely child..."

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, "I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along." . . . You must do the thing you think you cannot do." Eleanor Roosevelt

Hey KSHE

What the hell was that over the three day weekend?

You guys sounded great. The "Now That's What I Call KSHE" had me listening  a lot this weekend.

So, what happened?

You're back today playing the same shitty 500 songs over and over again. Why did you do that this past weekend where there was NO playlist? To show your audience you could? What are they saying now? I think you guys took a classic dump on your fans this morning when you flipped the station back to Bob and Tom and the same 500 songs. What you've told your listeners is "screw you".

You had them program the station all weekend and now it sounds considerably different today. "Ha Ha, we have all of these songs, but you don't get to hear them...suckers. We'll only play them when we have a special weekend." And now you guys wonder why no one is listening.

KSHE, you have a thousand times as many listeners as I do and it's nice to see that you have come around to my way of thinking when it comes to programming a station that wants to  make a splash on the weekend. But, I would NEVER do that to my listeners.

I would never tell them to program the station and then in another move tell them that their music isn't good enough and our consultants know more than you, the faithful KSHE 40 year listener. We're back to the songs you've told us you're tired of cause very few of them made it on the air this weekend.

A once proud heritage radio station has to resort to tricks to get their PPM meters glowing.

If I was a faithful listener, I would wonder what message they are sending. Hey! We looooove you listeners and will give you a chnce to play whatever you want. But, on Tuesday, we were just kidding.

Nice to see that you guys are acknowledging and are aware of planetradio. I never thought you guys would be reacting to me and my little tiny media outfit. But, planetradio broadcasts 24/7 the songs that you haven't heard in awhile. In fact, KSHE sounded just like us over the weekend except for two things. I didn't have to play 14-15 minutes of commercials every hour. And my playlist today is the same one that was played yesterday and tomorrow and so on. I had 126 people listening on Saturday which, in itself is a drop in the bucket, but planet radio listeners came from somewhere.


And people wonder why I left.

I remember when The Rock! came on. I said something to Rick Balis about The Rock! while I was at KSHE and his comment was .."no one can hear this station and the songs they play don't test well. No one wants to hear these dead songs."

How did that work out for ya Rick? We handed you your ass until finally, after almost two years, you brought in a consultant that said..."just play the same stuff they do and you'll beat them." All of a sudden you started playing "those songs that no one wanted to hear." And your signal beat ours. So, now, that's twice, guys.

Twice I've been right while you flounder in your mediocrity.

Oh, and by the way, I was flipping the dial today and found that you even play the same songs as KHITS. Where's the variety? Two stations playing the same 500 song playlist?

Rick Balis (program director at KSHE forever)was quoted in the June issue of St. Louis Magazine as saying this..."we have a sophisticated music program that we spend an inordinate amount of time setting up...there are lots of types of songs we don't want to play too close together...female vocalists...jocks aren't computers and that's why we have computers..." And that's one of the reasons you aren't the force that you once were. My comment in that magazine about the current offerings in local classic rock radio..."tragic".

To this day, when I meet someone and I tell them who I am, invariably they will say,.."aren't you the guy..." and I'll say yes, that was me. And usually the next thing out of their mouths is ..."what happened to them?"


Stuff like taking their listeners for granted maybe?

On The Road Again

Travels and trevails take me on the road again this week. Heading to Rogers, AR to make a huge presentation to a very important regional client. With a stop in Springfield, it's a down home trip. From Rogers to Dalton Georgia to see an old student get married. Dang, do I feel old. Love the opportunity to hit the blue highways and drive my troubles away.
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P90x is evil. Brutal. Sadistic. Cruel. But, now after about 6 weeks in, I've lost three inches in the waist and have gained three inches on my arms. Yikes. Down 16 pounds and sore in places I have never been sore before. It almost feels like I'm sore under the muscles. Since it's all about the core muscle group, I'm not surprised. Lighter and faster on the basketball court and now, if I can get back into shape, I'll be a happy boy.
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Saw Collective Soul at the Franklin County Fair on Friday night. To let you know where I was, there's a flagpole that displays the Aemerican flag. There was a cross on top of that flagpole. Rural America, baby. Had a 16 kid step in and play the lead guitarists part. What a very fine band. Collective Soul came 20 years too late. If they had been around in the 70s, they would have been HUGE. But, they were between the generations when they came out in 1993.
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Here is an email I received in my in box at work.

Dear “Fan”, I would like for you to know that of all the tributes to Dan that we have read; and there have been many, yours was very close to being the most moving and comforting to my family and me. Thank you for your article.
Incidentally, my son, David thinks he remembers you from an earlier time in your career. This is what he wrote:
“Wow!! I wonder if that is the same Randy Raley who is the radio personality from KSHE 94.7 and other stations in St. Louis??? I spent a better part of my St. Louis years listening to that guy. Maybe he retired and settled in Farmington?”
Regards,
Milton Peek (Dan's dad)

RETIRED AND SETTLED? He does not know me well. I'll never be able to retire and I'm far from being settled. But after sending my last tuition check last semester, I'm looking at waterfront properties in this area. Dad's time.  Woo Hoo!

Miss ya Boo

Lady Jane

Boy, how do I do this? How do I put down in words the love, goodliness (which is not a word, but it should be), kindness and reverence one person can have? Are there words?

Word comes from my cousin that my Aunt Jane is off to meet her maker very soon and also to hold the hand of her beloved Martin. She's missed him desperately for the last 13 years.

My Aunt Jane burst into our lives in 1969 when my uncle Martin lost his first wife, Bette, who was my father's sister. I hated that woman. Profane, mean, nasty, smoked and drank and cussed with the men. I so totally despised her that the disgust toward her almost negated the love I had for uncle Martin.

Uncle Martin was Dean Martin.

Good looking, dark, wavy hair, smoked and drank and probably had an affair with my mother. We're pretty sure something happened in 1965 to split up my mom and dad and signs from myself and others in the family think it happened with Martin. I couldn't blame either of them actually, their lives must have been pretty empty.

He never gave it up. Ever.

Before Bette died, she had Jane's number in a Bible or something. After Bette's passing, Martin and Jane got together and she transformed him from a smoking, drinking party guy to a down to Earth religious man. He found Christ through her.

One life saved.

She came with Martin to the farm in Ava to meet our part of the family. It was 1969 and she could not have made a better impression on this young man. Being 13, she was exactly what the doctor ordered for Martin. I had never ever seen him so calm and cool. She was a cinch.

My mother was an alcoholic throughout my life and there were times she was just not there. Aunt Jane always was. She never had kids, which is a shame. But she knew what to say to me. Whether it was telling me I was lazy or slapping me on the back for a job well done. Don't ask Jane a question you couldn't handle the answer to. She told you the truth as she saw it which was usually the way it was.

When I moved away from the Quad Cities in 1979, one of the toughest to leave was Martin and Jane. I'll never forget what she said to me..."what are you crying for? Don't you understand this is what you've been waiting for all your life. Don't let the enormity of the situation cloud your common sense, son. Go. Don't look back. We'll be here when you get back. Let me know how it is."

Perfect.

She was my mother when my mother couldn't handle the job.
When my dear mother died, I was pretty emotional about it and she said, "I hope you're crying for how much you're going to miss her. Don't cry for her, for she is about to be set free from her chains and demons and for the first time know no pain."

Perfect.

As they got older they took pride in working in the ravine behind their house. That ravine was so full of flowers, shrubs, and gardening that the strongest among us couldn't handle, but there was Martin and Jane, every day out in the hot sun, working all day. "Working keeps you young." A  favorite saying of hers.
Of course as the years rolled on, Martin and Jane slowed down and she lost her beloved Martin at the age of 84 in 1998.

Devastation isn't a powerful enough word.

Looking back, her world was over at that time. Being away, I didn't get a chance to see her as much as I'd like. I regret that now. Jane kept treading water, she kept her life together as well as she could, but after having to quit driving at 86, she went downhill slowly but surely. The family entered her into an assisted living facility not long after.

Everytime I got that way, I went to see her, she always knew me, but sometimes it took a bit. Then her eyes would get big and she'd say "Randy" and smile. I'll never forget the look.


One day, about three years ago, I went to see her and she was feeling exceptionally well. "I'd like to go for a ride." she said. "Where to?" I asked. "My youth", she replied. So, we got into my car and went to the neighborhood where she lived as a young girl. It was right on the Moline Rock Island border. She pointed out all of the local landmarks, where she walked to school, where she stood waiting for the bus, etc. "My father built that house...and that garage...and that's the house I grew up in." Her eyes filled with tears as we drove around the neighborhood over and over. "That's the house I grew up in...and my dad built that..." What a blessed afternoon I spent with her. I knew more about her in three hours than I did in the previous 40 years.

She moved to a home in Rockford to be closer to her family and I saw her a couple of times. The first time, about a year ago, she was eating, perked up and said "Randy" with THAT look. We had a nice chat. I went up there about two months ago to see her. She was sitting in a wheel chair in the middle of the hallway, head in hand. My cousin Chuck was with me. We walked up to her and she didn't recognize either one of us. "I'll get the job done, but I'm slow, you know. I'll get it done, but it'll be a while. I don't like mistakes, so I'm real slow and careful. I can do the job, I really can, but it takes me awhile to do it. I like to make sure the job is done right, so I'm slow..." And on and on.

I'm hoping that the end comes quickly and peacefully. She needs to see her Martin. She needs to go home.

I love you so much Lady Jane. You shined a bright light into my life and you've helped save my life on more occasions than you know.

That's two lives saved.

"Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force."
YODA

Lady Jane passed this morning, 8/11/11
God has recruited another angel.

Dan Peek

I spent part of the morning doing something I don’t think I have ever done before. I paid respect to someone I did not know. Well, I guess I knew part of him. He seemed to know me, anyway, as a 16 year old pimple faced young man whose face was horribly adorned by glasses and braces. He actually seemed to express parts of my awkward adolescent life and the things I was feeling at that time. He expressed it so magnificently through his music.


I am the type of person who isn’t big on dates but if you were to ever do a soundtrack to my life, I could tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing by the song that was playing on the radio at the time. And at the time I was listening to the radio a lot, he caught my ear.

The first time I heard him, it was a song about horses and deserts and such and since I was in a very singer/songwriter stage in my life, I immediately liked the song even though the words were very weird. “…in the desert you can remember your name..”

Ok, then.

But it was the next hit song of theirs that really grabbed my attention. It went like this…”and now you're gone, I guess I'll carry on, and make the best of what you've left to me.” But wait, how did he know that he hit an emotional grand slam home run with a lonely teenager who’s girlfriend just broke up with him in, of all places, East Moline, Illinois? How did he know how I felt?

And thus became my love affair with Dan Peek’s music. I have been in Farmington almost two years and I had no idea he lived here. I don’t know what I would have done if I had known, I don’t think I would have walked up to his house and bothered him to say thanks, but just knowing some one who has affected my life so much lived in the same community just blew my mind.

It seemed that Dan wrote for the disenfranchised, the ones who weren’t the most popular kids in school and his message was always, don’t worry, it’ll all work out. I wonder how he knew that. Because, somehow through the years of this pot marked, scarred life, it did. Like all great composers and songwriters, he had a gift to get below the surface and make a listener feel that Dan knew them and what they were going through.

“This is for all the lonely people, thinking that life has passed them by. Don’t give up until you drink from the silver cup and hide that highway in the sky.” There he goes again.

Dan has a place in the soundtrack of my life when music meant so much to me. His words and music reflect the feelings and emotions of a generation that grew up hanging on every word he and his band mates wrote. His spiritual, uplifting message cleverly hidden in the tapestry of his songs maybe, just maybe, saved a life or two by telling us, hey…”oz didn’t give anything to the tin man, that he didn’t already have.”

His music lives on through youtube and other outlets, but to my generation, we’ll remember him as a man who gave up the rock star life for his faith. We’ll remember him for being a part of our lives because in so many ways, whenever he was in our bedrooms with the headphones on and wherever we heard his music, we thought of him as a friend. And we heard his music a lot.

I got it, Dan, and thanks. It was my pleasure to stand in a room full of strangers and just say thanks. I introduced myself to your family as “just a fan”. I’m sorry I never got the chance to say that to you while you were alive.

If I had only known.



http://www.danpeek.com/

Sweet Music

On this post, I give you song number two of the trinity.

The three (and a half) songs (records) that blew my mind in that 11th  musically magical but emotionally difficult year. I lived in a closet with three other people. This house, (if it had 800 square feet we were lucky), was so small I actually for awhile had to share a bedroom with my father. Then I moved into a closet into bunk beds with my sister. Shit. At least I got the top bunk. The house was so small, I could hear the TV from my bedroom like it was up against my ear. I could also hear beer after beer being opened by my mom, (when she wasn't working).

We lived there from mid 66 to late 67 when we moved back to the farm. My only solaces were basketball and the radio, which exposed me to music. On a post about two down, I talked about the fall of 66 and the wonderful sound of the song "Cherish" and what it meant to my brother and myself, having fallen in love with the same song being some thousands of miles away from each other. I was a music geek who would chart the songs every Thursday night and cry foul when my song failed to move up the charts. At twelve.



One day in early November I think it was, my mother went "visiting" which she did frequently. I miss that. Going over to someone's house just to chat, smoke cigarettes and drink coffee. My mother "visited" with her mother a great deal. It was always an interesting dynamic to get a stubborn, tough mother daughter combo together in the same room. Add alcohol. Or, she would go "visiting" to a friend and, of course, my mother never liked baby sitters, so she'd drag us kids with her and back sometimes just in time to do homework and watch Carol Burnett tell us good night.

It was during one of these visits when I heard it the first time.
That sound.
See, the Beach Boys were big in my house. My brother was 8 years older to me and he was into girls, cars and music. So, vicariously and probably prematurely, so was I. The Beach Boys were The Beatles before The Beatles.
We were riding back home from one of the "visits" and the DJ said it was the new song from the Beach Boys. It was called "Good Vibrations" and from the very first moment of the song, I went on a musical acid trip from which I never returned. We reached home before the song was over and I begged my mom to keep the radio on, just for a second. This song sounded like nothing else on this planet, let alone another one. What a roller coaster...up, down, left, right, up, back, down, forward, stop, start. Whoa, what was THAT!? Holy cow. When it was over, that was as close to self gratification this 12 year ever got.

I heard it on a Thursday. On the following Saturday,  I rode my bike to the record store (about 3 miles away) and they didn't have it yet. Shit. Never fear, the radio was playing it and that song glued my ear to my transistor for the next six weeks. When I finally did get the 45, I played it over and over and over until my dad would bang on the door.

This song opened my ears to listen to new and different things, to seek out good music and to be ready for what the Beatles were getting ready to do and King Crimson in about three years.  It made me realize the value of good production and quality sound. Surprisingly though, I don't think I've ever heard the song in stereo.

To this very day, after hearing it, I feel like I'm a kid and I'm hearing for the first time. There are but a handful of songs I can say that about. "Good Vibrations" is about number two or three on that list. I guess it was about this time that Brian Wilson flipped out. Because it was his song and he's nowhere on this video.

So, who influenced who? I hear a lot of Beatles in this song, especially snippets of different songs put together. McCartney's biggest hits "Uncle Albert", "Band On The Run" are songs that contain snippets of other songs in them. Maybe he learned that from this. I think these guys propelled and compelled the Beatles to be better and this song was serious shit.

This is song number two in the trinity of "musical mileposts" that happened to me in 5th grade. The third part came out in March of the following year. There were two sides to the 45 and they both were mind altering blows that set me on my musical merry way.