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Sometime on Monday, March 23rd WOXY’s front page splashed the sad news. “Due to current economic realities and the lack of ongoing funding for WOXY’s operations, we’ve been forced to suspend our live broadcasts as of March 23rd.” The initial shock was quickly tempered by remembering that WOXY has had its fair share of trouble over the last six years. Since 2004 the internet-only radio station has been sold three times, each sale followed by uncertainty and finally saved by private investors. WOXY, as a mid-sized media outlet struggling with the changing landscape of distribution, is just one of many companies constantly needing to reevaluate its model in order to sustain itself.
Founded in 1983 by Doug and Linda Balogh, 97.7FM benefited from a powerful signal (3,000 watts according to Programming Director Mike Taylor) and its proximity to college campuses in Cincinnati, Ohio. Around 1998, it began its slow journey into cyber space, streaming its programming as an experiment. Finally nearing retirement age, after years of refusing generous offers, Doug and Linda Balogh sold the broadcast license in 2004. The terms of the sale made sure to keep “97X,” the station’s vast musical library and its tagline “The Future of Rock ‘N Roll.” The mom and pop owners hinted at their hope of radio by keeping the brand and within a short time, WOXY was saved by an anonymous source, what business culture refers to as “angel investors.” The sale and new ownership prompted a move to Oxford, Ohio and with that, it became an internet only radio station with live DJ’s hand-picking the music and hosting the air shifts. Not only was this a radical move for an established institution, it was further cemented into the media history books by its success. With a considerably smaller budget than other, larger webcasts, 97X is considered on par with household names like KEXP and The Current. “KEXP and The Current have six times the budget that we do. We never had the equity, resources or access of stations like that but we are still equated with them,” says Taylor, who has been an employee of WOXY for 20 years.
Two years later in 2006, over objections from the staff, WOXY moved to a subscription based model, where listeners would pay in order to listen. This was an attempt to offset increasing budget deficits and operating costs, but the switch proved temporary. “The online audience was tremendous at first, and it peaked eight or nine months after the switch. Unfortunately, I saw a steady decline in listener numbers from then on,” says Taylor. He says the falling numbers only got worse, “Subscription drove away the majority of the listeners.” That happened in early 2006, by August the pay-to-stream idea had failed. Once again WOXY had to close its doors and its future was uncertain.
The late 2000’s not only saw the beginnings of an embrace of online media by historical outlets, but witnessed internet upstarts taking risks. Lala.com, a streaming music subscription service, itself just coming out of its invite-only beta testing, purchased WOXY in September 2006. It could have been seen as an early adopting strategy by an edgy company further moving the music industry in the right direction, however, the reality was not that great. “There was an attempt at starting a blog, but the efforts were not as strong as they should have been,” says Taylor. Meanwhile, the frontline DJ’s and programmers strove to integrate new media into their product, but their bosses were hesitant. “The problem was not the product, but the delivery. A solely online identity with live DJ’s – I don’t know if there’s an audience for that. Online listening to anything that is not Pandora, is skewed older, while cutting edge music skews younger. WOXY, which cuts that difference…there is a disconnect there.” Taylor, being a broadcast veteran continues, “There has to be a larger scope with additional content, a one-stop place, and DJ’s hand picking music for a stream, I’m not sure if there is an audience for that. “
Still, a brand with a loyal audience, strong name recognition and a deep library of music should be able to thrive. Joe Long, a DJ at WOXY for three and a half years, loves the idea of curating for his listeners and thinks WOXY’s live, subjective format takes a little longer to warm up to, but is rewarding. “With the growth of technology and blogs for example, music is readily available to the consumer and allows them many options. People can listen to almost anything they want, whenever and wherever they choose. Because of this, in order to stand, you have to gain peoples trust with your recommendations and with your voice. Once you do that, they will be back for more.” Ali McDonald, a club DJ and former WOXY listener, confirms that. “I listened to it during the day while I worked at my computer. The music was consistently good. At the time my other primary online music source was the WFMU stream but my interest in listening to WFMU would change depending on which show was on. I knew with WOXY, however, that I could listen at any time.” No longer able to listen at work, McDonald as found other ways to find new music. “These days, I learn about music primarily from blogs and recommendations from friends. I really like it when websites compile their new music into an embedded music player, like RCRD LBL and Pitchfork.” It’s this time gap, the amount of seconds it takes to click out of one window and on to the next to get to what you want, that all media is struggling to fight. It literally takes a couple of seconds, but that difference is what will make or break any new company. Currently, Pitchfork uses Lala.com as its embedded music player for all its album reviews.
The most recent purchase of WOXY by Future Sounds Inc, was intentional in its attempt at bringing a throw-back distribution model like live, human-curated radio to younger audiences. Lala.com, while saving 97X from evaporating, did not force any changes or help WOXY succeed. Link exchanges to purchase music heard on the station directly seemed to be the only tangible difference, and in early 2009, Future Sounds, Inc . purchased the company. However, this transaction was done with the intent on making huge relocation and repositioning changes. Based in Los Angeles, Future Sounds manages bands and promotes events. John Mascarenhas is currently in charge of handling business between FSI and WOXY. “Future Sounds is a media company whose prime focus is giving small and unsigned acts mass distribution. We had a radio show [on WOXY] that focused on those acts.” The established partnership and vision to expand WOXY’s audience made making changes an easy decision. “The goal was to move WOXY to a stronger market where they could have more access to touring artists, the ability to sponsor/present more shows, create more original content (lounge acts) that could then be syndicated across the web. Austin was a perfect fit because the local music scene is dominated by ‘indie’ music and you have two major festivals (SxSW and ACL) annually that bring great artists directly to our doorstep….not to mention a robust local music scene that does not get the coverage it deserves.”
A move from Ohio to Texas was ambitious, but Joe Long thinks it’s still a good idea. “When we moved to Austin the city really embraced us. We moved into a great space in a great location and had our sights set on taking everything up a notch. Nothing changed about what we did, except we had two more competent full timers to help make it happen. The intentions were excellent but in the end it was the lack of funding that held us back.”
Despite the setbacks of starting over three times and facing flash changes in the music industry, WOXY and radio still have their devoted followers. Zachary Hersche is 23 years old and made a mini-documentary about WOXY in 2007 (video embedded at the end of the article). “There is a whole lot to like about WOXY. The DJs love what they are doing and I have been turned onto band’s I have never heard before because WOXY played it. I think radio still matters to a lot of people. Radio stations are realizing they need to take advantage of technology and are finding new ways to advertise besides audio commercials. Radio, newspapers, magazines, and TV stations all do it. WOXY is different though. They do their job because they love it. They are playing the music they love, unlike corporate radio that only cares about money, not the music they play.”
The latest bout of dead air could be just another one of the company’s temporary closures. The staff I spoke to all allude to current negotiations being made and they all have a hopeful attitude. Mike Taylor, despite being exhausted by all the changes, wants to see something happen. “I would never count this place out. In my opinion, the structure of what we do needs to change. The brand is strong, admired and loved but can’t continue to exist the way we’ve been doing business. The recent owners had good ideas but didn’t have the plan or the resources to enact that plan.” In our conversation, Taylor inquires about CHIRP, and when I confirm we are all volunteers, he seems validated. “I wouldn’t do this without getting paid and my colleagues wouldn’t. I’m compensated for a well crafted, well done product, and it’s our owner’s responsibility to get it out there.” Macscarenhas from Future Sounds, Inc., confirms this, “WOXY will be back on the air soon…there are too many people that love the station whom are already working on our behalf to make that a reality.”
In the meantime, a cursory search on Twitter.com for #woxy finds many results, from people lamenting its current state to those promoting their own streaming broadcast. What you won’t see is a public that will settle for inconvenience. An all encompassing, one-stop place for music and information has yet to bubble to the top, but we are trying. When looking for music to spin, Ali McDonald, aka DJ Reaganomix, isn’t going to wait. “One of my favorite things about internet based radio stations as opposed to traditional radio stations that stream online is that DJs don’t talk as much, and so it’s less talk more rock.” If the audience won’t wait, then the eventual king of its distribution shouldn’t either. Here’s to counting the seconds.
WOXY DOC from Zachary Herche on Vimeo.
In a matter of days, I went from hipster-platinum to waeguk-nobody. In the beginning of May 2009, I packed up my crates of LPs, stepped down as Music Director of the burgeoning Chicago Independent Radio Project, quit my job at Reckless Records, handed over the helms of Plustapes/Addenda Records to my co-founder, canceled all my DJ gigs around Chicago’s west side (Whistler, Burlington, Danny’s, etc.), handed my cat over to my little brother, and left the city. Days later, I stepped off an airplane at Incheon Airport and took a late night bus to Daejeon, a city located in the heart of South Korea. I slept that night on a single-sized mattress, the only piece of furniture in my allotted studio apartment. Moments before I fell into a deep sleep after my 24-hour journey, I heartily questioned my decision.
I had no idea what to expect coming to South Korea; I had little time to prepare. On a whim, I inquired about a teaching job and not three weeks later reluctantly accepted one. It happened fast and with little premeditation. All I knew was that Chicago was feeling stuffy and redundant after four years. I needed adventure and a setting where I could effloresce into adulthood without too many outside influences. “Individuality” was the word of the moment, and nothing was more foreign to me than South Korea.
Innately, Korea is very different. But superficially, it’s rather westernized. Besides the Hangul script and the copious amount of dragonflies in late spring, Daejeon didn’t seem that far out. The kids dress rather stylishly, the technology is modern (if not slightly ahead of the U.S.) and commerce bustles. Daejeon is certainly a city, but it’s no Chicago. It’s about the size of Portland, OR actually. With the rather uneventful cultural touchstones and nightlife though, it’s much more akin to the Charlotte, NC’s of the world. It’s a city built around a particular business ethos (technological innovation in this case), not around the arts. The opportunities and communities that I gravitated toward in Chicago were obsolete.
Everything, and I mean everything, in Korea is animated. Nearly every store on every corner is blasting music out its doors. Or, at the least, there are dedicated and luminous neon lights for décor. My senses were saturated, and that I was thankful for. But where my sight, taste, smell and touch were satisfied, my hearing was left dumbfounded. Throughout the country, Korean pop is ubiquitous. And not just in placement, it’s loved in the hearts of the people as well. I have yet to meet a person who does not like the sugar-loaded, bubblegum techno, pop-rap, pseudo-soul of K-pop. Even after years of careful music listening, I have a tough time differentiating the groups, even after 7 months. But I have nary a student who can’t list every song on the current pop charts from memory (along with a quick rendition of each song’s chorus).
The song-of-the-moment – and moment in K-pop terms is about 6-8 weeks of chart dominance – when I arrived was Big Bang and 2NE1’s “Bubblegum.” Big Bang, a substantial veteran of the scene for being around for three years already, is a hit-making machine. Every female student of mine has a pencil cased covered in stickers of the five members’ smudge-free images. The production company behind them, YG Entertainment, is dominant and sly. They had just finished fastening the female equivalent of the Big Bang mold, 2NE1, and paired them together for a promotion song for a cell phone by LG Cyon. It is a popular strategy by promotion companies at the moment: crossover jingles. The song was a smash, two Big Bang members would go on to release lucrative solo albums in the fall, and 2NE1 would win numerous awards and accolades during the many year end award shows.
I, on the other hand, needed refuge. The culture I enjoyed, the music industry I loathed. That would change (somewhat). But for the moment, I needed escape. I turned to Miles Davis, an artist that I respect but don’t really get up in arms about. In fact, besides Sketches of Spain, Get Up With It is my only real focus in the vast discography of the archetypal jazz trumpeter. Its inch-thick haze of electric-organ-derived ambience was the perfect opposite of the crystalline K-pop. Composed of a series of session ranging from 1970-74, it also helped that the album was 2 hours-plus of music. Whenever the three-minute onslaught of hook-hook-hook would wear me down, I’d hole myself up in my apartment and lose myself in the endless funky grooves of Reggie Lucas’s static electric guitar and Michael Henderson’s loping bass lines. The tectonic shifts of atonality and seemingly structure-less jam sessions became just the rabbit hole I needed on those special occasions. It’s no wonder this record was so influential on Eno. Even without drugs, it easily trips you out.
The intersection of webcomics and music got a little richer this week with Meredith Gran’s Octopus Pie telling a story centered around The Shaggs.
The Shaggs are… hard to describe. They couldn’t really play their instruments, but they don’t have any kind of punk or garage aesthetic. They go a step beyond that DIY sound. As musicians, it’s not just that they can’t play; it sounds like they’re not even in the same room as each other. And yet they have a real winsome quality; an earnestness.
Here; just do this. First, go read the story at Octopus Pie then give them a listen on YouTube.
Octopus Pie tells the story of two young roommates in Brooklyn navigating the world of relationships and hipsters.
(And speaking of hipsters! My favorite assessment of hipsters remains “Everyone’s seen a hipster but nobody is one” — but I also suggest you check out Kate Beaton’s take on hipsters through the ages: part one and part two.)
With the advent of compact discs, and now MP3s, the cassette tape went the way of the dinosaur. And, with it, went the mixed tape. Made of an “A” side and a “B” side, the mixed tape provided music lovers with the opportunity to create a sonic theater of sentiment complete with an intermission. Having two sides made it possible to fit two themes onto one tape, to make two full acts of music and to draw the crescendo of the tape out in a dramatic way.
It is easier, of course, to make a mix on a cd. All that is needed is a computer and a burner and a mix can be made in less than ten minutes. Tapes required elbow grease. Pulling the tapes you wanted to dub, searching for the tracks. Re-taping it if the sound didn’t come out right the first time, and trying to get the timing just right, so that no songs got cut off but also trying to avoid minutes of blank tape at the end of a side. I have fond memories of spending nights hunched over my tape deck, meticulously making mixes for friends (“Tori Amos Essentials”, “Good Going Out Tape”, “Girls!”) and for partners (“Love/Lust”, “Make Out Mix”, “You, Me, Rock”). Getting a handmade mixed tape was the best gift one could get. There was such an excitement in throwing it in your tape player and putting on your headphones, wondering what the next song, and the next side, would be.
In 2009, it is rare to find someone with a tape player. The last time I made a mixed tape was in 2003, and then subsequently had to buy my boyfriend a tape player to play it on. Cds are the wave of the future, but how can we make them just as good as the old standard, the mixed tape? And what just plain makes a good mix?
It’s a weird thing to sit around and plan your funeral. I can’t imagine I’m the only one that’s ever done it; in fact, I know I’m not the only one who sits and thinks of these things. However, I know it’s not the most casual of thoughts for most people. But one night during college, we were all sitting around and it must have come up and I was expounding on the subject, saying how I definitely wanted a New Orleans-style brass band parade.
I’m sitting in the railway station.
Got a ticket for my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And ev’ry stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band.
I also threw in that I’d like Simon and Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound” to be played at some point during the service. My friends, Dave and Joel, piped up and said that not only would they see to it that my request was carried out, but that they personally would sing it themselves. Although, Joel said he’d be singing the Simon/George Harrison version they did live on Saturday Night Live in 1976.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Fine by me, I said. I was actually pretty honored and touched that my friends were so quick to jump to my aid and volunteer to do me such a noble deed. Especially since neither of one of them were musicians or anything. It meant something in that moment; it seemed like some sort of friendship cement was being laid down — for all the good making promises over a potential future funeral are worth.
But it would come up from time to time as the years passed, and we’d laugh about it and I’d sort of roll my eyes at my younger self and wonder what kind of idea that was in the first place. But Dave and Joel always got very serious at the mention of it and promised yet again that they would, in fact, still show up and sing this for my hopefully unforeseeable demise.
Ev’ry day’s an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines.
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories
And ev’ry stranger’s face I see reminds me that I long to be
Years and years have passed now, and the three of us don’t really see one another or really talk so much anymore. Things happen, people change, lives grow apart. If it comes to the point where this needs to happen, honestly, I’m not going to be around to do the asking. And I guess I’m old enough to start thinking about some sort of will or something. I don’t have any real possessions to pass down or give away, but I suppose it would be worth it to at least outline to my parents or friends, “Hey, it’s okay if these guys sing this song at my funeral. Seriously.”
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
I mention this because those are the kinds of things that get cemented in your mind forever, that never leave you even when the people shift out of your life. These are the kinds of memories that will never fade. Every time I hear that song, I will always think of Dave and Joel and their promise made during a late-night conversation about life and death, made when we were too young to know much about either. It is the power of music that intoxicates me and always leads me back to the places where I first found it — the radio.
Tonight I’ll sing my songs again,
I’ll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.
It was the radio in my father’s car, playing the oldies. It was the radio in my room, trying to catch my favorite songs exactly at the right time so I could tape them from start to finish. It was the radio station at college, and the new friends I made, who taught me about life and love and the pursuit of new music. It was the years and years of driving around in all sorts of cars on all sorts of roads in all sorts of weather, having endless conversations and calming the tempest that is my mind — all to the soundtrack of the radio.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Silently for me.
It’s good to have another place to be a part of that. It’s wonderful to have another radio home. I am looking forward to sharing CHIRP with Chicago and with the world so everyone else can feel at home with us, too. So we can all exchange ideas and new music and have a place to discuss our community and our world. I can’t wait until we’re live on air with something alive and exciting in Chicago that’s creative and inspiring — something for everyone to hear.
I’m nowhere near dead, but I definitely feel like I’m coming home.
“Homeward Bound,” — Simon and Garfunkel, ‘Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme’