Self Help Radio 040414: The Way Out Show

Self Help Radio this week is way out!  It's way out in Kentucky.  Way out on a planet called Earth in the outskirts of the Milky Way Galaxy.  & it's got no way out.

But there are doubtless way out songs on the show you might enjoy.  You can listen to it here: Self Help Radio website.  Or you can listen to it directly here: part one & then also part two.  Way down below here is the list of songs I played.

Thanks for listening!

(part one)

"Way Out Willie" Mickey Hawks _Bip Bop Boom_
"She's Too Way Out" Tony Dangerfield & The Thrills _Freakbeat Freakout_
"Way Out Love" The Four Pennies _Trouble Is My Middle Name_
"Way Way Out" The Girls _New Rubble, Vol. 5: Scratch My Back_

"We've Got A Way Out Love" The Originals _The Complete Motown Singles, Vol. 9: 1969_
"Hey Little Way Out Girl" The Construction _The Wigan Casino Story Continues_
"Way Out Love" The Isley Brothers _Between The Sheets_
"Way Out" Yeah Yeah Yeahs _Show Your Bones_
"Way Out" April March & Steve Hanft _Magic Monsters_

"When There's No Way Out" Guitar Slim _Atco Sessions_
"No Way Out" Joyce Harris & The Daylighters _The Domino Records Story_
"No Way Out" Clarence Reid _Eccentric Soul: The Outskirts Of Deep City_

(part two)

"No Way Out" The Chocolate Watchband _Love Is The Song We Sing (San Francisco Nuggets 1965-1970)_
"No Way Out" Thee Headcoats _Heavens To Murgatroyd, Even! It's Thee Headcoats! (Already)_
"No Way Out" The Legends _Up Against The Legends_
"No Way Out Of Time" Robyn Hitchcock _Spooked_

"Way Out There" Chuck & Bill (The Kentuckians) _Oh Boy! The Brunswick Story_
"That's Your Way Out" The Pandoras _It's About Time_
"The Old Way Out" The Go-Betweens _Spring Hill Fair_
"Way Out Of Reach" The Manhattan Love Suicides _Burnt Out Landscapes_
"Way Out" Bass Drum Of Death _Bass Drum Of Death_
"I Found A Way Out" Bill Cosby _Talks To Kids About Drugs_

"Way Out West" Big Star _Radio City_
"Way Out West" Angel Corpus Christi _The 80's_
"Way Out" The La's _Callin' All_

Whither The Way Out Show?

Holy crap, I'm at this point where I don't really know what I can talk about during a show in which the theme is "way out"!

Why do you have to talk about anything?  Why not just let the music speak for itself?

Damn it!  It's me in italics!

Howdy.

You go away.  You're never helpful.  You pretend to be a more laid-back version of me but your ideas are stupid.

Oh, dude, that's harsh.

Let's take for example that last one: "let the music speak for itself."  It does.  I don't have a problem with that.  But I don't usually talk about the music I play.  I talk about the themes.

Wow, I guess I didn't know that.

You didn't know that?  You're ME for fuck's sake!

I don't listen to your show, though.  I tried once.  It was kinda boring.

Arrgh!

Wait.  Did you really just write "Arrgh"?

Yeah, it's a noise I make in frustration.

But you didn't actually say it, did you?

No, of course not.  Because I'm writing on a computer screen.  Anyway, when someone is talking to themselves, they usually don't make noises unless they want passers-by to think they're crazy-pants.

Writing "arrgh" is like the 20th century way of texting "LOL."

I hate you.

I know!

Preface To The Way Out Show: Frames Of Reference

I might have explained the way I find themes to explore on the show, before, on this blog.  But I will repeat myself.  It's not an interesting or mysterious or inspired process, but it is a process.  I think of something, usually at random moments, & I create a folder on my computer with the name of the theme & then start to fill it in.

A friend calls this "letting the universe talk to you."  I don't believe that coincidences mean anything, but if I am listening to three records in a row, & they all have songs about soap on them, my brain will tell me, "You should do a show about soap."  So I'll create the folder & let my brain work on it in the background.

At some point I decide there's enough songs to do a show.  I take a little more time to do more direct searching for songs, but the bulk of the show is already there.

Sometimes it takes years to get a theme covered.  In my "folder of themes" (which for some reason is labeled "extras" on my computer), I have folders that go back to 2008.  This is true!  Some ideas don't get much exploration.  They just lie there.

In any event, coincidences happen, & although I have left WRFL, I am still aware of the show schedule, & since last fall there's a show called "The Way Out" on the station.  It wouldn't bother me if that show's name (not necessarily its content) inspired this week's show, but I am here to say, it didn't.  The "way out show" folder was created in 2012, when Matt, the show's host, was still doing "Burning Sensations."

I toyed with the idea of contacting him to see if he wanted to record a disclaimer for me ("The program The Way Out is not involved with nor endorses the program Self Help Radio"), but I didn't want to bother him.  I can only say that he does a fine show, & it's on Thursdays at 2pm at wrfl.fm or 88.1 fm in Lexington.

I hope he doesn't think my show is a comment or rip-off on his!

Combatting Sunrise With Hate

This is true: I had an argument last night with someone in a dream in which we were talking about the New Testament's attitude toward homosexuality.  It wasn't even someone who was a friend, or is a Christian, or a homophobe - it was an old acquaintance's wife.  It was in a suite of apartments in which I have never lived but in the dream was my home.  My brain did this wonderful thing it does which confronted with the request for information it did not have: it didn't let me get to my computer to access that information.  I think my brain is clever to do that.

This is also true: The wife got a cable phone for us, but no one knows the number.  That doesn't keep it from ringing several times a day.  At least twice I've received calls from the Kentucky Prison System or whatever it's called.  It asks me to press one to accept the call & to press another key for more information.  There does not appear to be a number to refuse the call.  I don't want want to be rude but I also don't want to waste an inmate's time, so I just hang up.  Then I have the feeling I've broken someone's heart.

This is not true: I am a six foot tall dragonfly who has forgotten how to fly.  But I have not forgotten how to be a dragon.  It's difficult to get my jittery damn wings through doorways so now, out of frustration, I just breathe fire on them & burn my way through.  This has caused me to destroy my own home & also I am not invited to anyone else's houses anymore.  The novelty of having a friend who is a six foot tall dragonfly is made negligible by the property damage I inflict with my awkwardness & impatience (also, fire).  This in turn has caused me to plunge into deep despair but has not, alas, resulted in any real soul-searching or attempts to improve my character.

Five Inches Of Hair

"Is that all it will take?" I asked.  "Yes," he said.  "Just five inches of hair."

He had shifty eyes.  Night shifty eyes.  More comfortable with cold, uncomfortable fluorescent light.

"That's not a lot of hair," I said.  "It's enough," he said.

I looked around his office.  The place was untidy, like a teenager's room.  It smelled of coffee stains & unfinished tuna salad sandwiches.

"What're you looking for?" he asked.  "A ruler," I said.  "If you don't have a ruler - or a tape measure - there's no way to know if it's exactly five inches of hair."

Being exact was important to me at that time in my life.  It was a kind of mental punctuality.

"An inch is about as big the length from knuckle to tip of the average finger," he said, pointing one finger at me & using another (from the other hand) to demonstrate.

I hadn't looked at his hands yet, & now I wish I hadn't.  They looked like they'd been broken at least twice in the past, & repaired by an arthritic doctor.

"I guess that's fair," I conceded, pushing his hand out of my way.  "Five inches of hair is fair."

He clapped his malformed hands together & it made a pathetic noise.  He was happy, & I saw him reach into a desk drawer & remove a pair of scissors that could have doubled as shears.

"No, no," I said.  "Not now!"  "Not now?" he repeated as a question.

I made strange gestures over my head that I initially thought might be self-explanatory, but instead looked like I was trying to clumsily mimic a fashionable dance popular with trendy commercial music.

"I'll need to grow it first!" I finally explained.