An avant garde cellist from New York City and a Dutch punk rock group, both with discographies predating Reagan's presidency, collaborated on a 1991 release. The result was a unique and exhilarating fusion. One of the songs on this album is a version of a Hungarian folk tune also recently issued by a group of classically trained musicians from Budapest. The translation of "Hidegen Fujnak A Szelek" is "Cold Winds Are Blowing"; it is a grim tune about the lack of freedom. In this sense, it might be called an East European blues tune, leaving its audience (provided they speak the language) with that low down, my-baby-done-left-me kind of blues mourning. The two groups' treatment of the song represents the old/new, the rural/urban, the acoustic/electric, and the organic/industrial schisms between tradition and modernity. At the same time, they convey similar feelings of despair.
This amazing on-air concoction inspired every DJ's dream, a listener comment! A young man's voice, presumably a Tech student, sounded confused. "That was wierd," he offered.
The word "weird" has become the most meaningless adjective in the American English vocabulary. Rather than search for a truly representative modifier (or perhaps rather than figure out what they really want to say), many folks opt instead for "weird". I figure the least I can do is inquire further - demand a real adjective - to do my part in the fight against mental atrophy.
I began my investigative effort. "Do you mean 'unsettlingly' weird, or 'refreshingly' weird?" After all, we already know that punk versions of Hungarian folk songs are not exactly a dime-a- dozen. Our listener did not seem troubled by what he heard, only bewildered. And that is good.
His inarticulate response to such a distinct stimulus was, I honestly believe, healthy. It is what WREK is all about. A local 'easy listening' FM station once had a motto, 'We Play Favorites'. Perhaps WREK should go with 'We Create Favorites'. Whether it reaches back to a pure and uncorrupted folk tradition, or whether it presents a new and unique hybrid between supposedly unrelated genres, WREK seeks to broadcast what we have not heard before (although we do play oldies, they tend to be the more obscure ones). The effect of this approach is intriguing.
If DJ's are discovering new music (new to them) at the same time it is being aired, then they are put in the same position as the listener. There is a connection between the WREK staffer and the WREK listener that you do not often find elsewhere. Our DJ's do not have our rotation memorized - the possibilities are endless. DJ's stumble across wonderful new performers in the course of their airshift, just as hungry listeners hear gems for their first time.
So there's really not much of a distance separating our listener and me. We both reacted strongly to the same performances. WREK is where we both first heard the Dutch punk rock, the Hungarian folk, and the New York cellist.
WREK does have a programming philosophy, and it coincides nicely with the mission of both Georgia Tech and non- commercial radio. Education, of all involved, is actually taking place. We are not talking 'hip alternatives' here - they are just as fleeting and formulaic as the 'mainstream'. We seek authentic and/or innovative artists.
There is a method to our so-called 'weirdness'. Of course, it's not weird to those involved at all - in fact, it is 'natural', or 'invigorating', or 'shocking', or 'mind-boggling', or 'amorphous', or 'soothing', or 'rockin'', or 'refreshing'. Use a thesaurus if you must, just do not call it 'weird'.
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