In the winter of 2000 I was working teaching classical fine art to kids at a mall in Sherman “Boob Job” Oaks, home of Frankie B. jeans (the first super low-rise ones, made by one of the mothers of one of my students–the little girl was named Frankie–and during share-time, when the parents would sit in the rear and the kids would show their work, all the male instructors would line up in the back of the room to gawk at the mother’s thong gloriously effusing its lurid fuschia or cerulean butterfly wings over her spray-tanned backside–but I digress) and a co-worker whose name I’ve since spaced on told me I should come with her to this meeting for an independent pirate radio station.
“But I don’t know how to DJ,” I said, somewhat ashamedly, ‘cuz this was in the days when everyone but me knew how.
“They’ll teach you,” she said.
Thus was my introduction to killradio.org, and I have to say…
(exactly WHAT I have to say is behind the jump.)
…aaanyway, what I was saying was that joining killradio was one of the most lifechanging decisions of my twentynine years on this planet. (Here’s an article on Killradio in its early years, by Deborah Vankin–and it even has a lame quote from me midway through! I was a little flustered, you see.)
I changed from libertarian to greenie pinko. I got cool with standing up for my beliefs. I met people I never would have otherwise met–people who, in turn, took my life in amazing directions I could never have imagined. I discovered Silver Lake, then Echo Park [the “Eastside” was yet to be scouted until, as I’ve discovered, 2006, because I am a white girl from the Valley and don’t know jack shit about city nomenclature sometimes], and Downtown. I discovered the art scene, and the Cacophony Society, and Burning Man, and Mr. T’s Bowl and the holy grace of a 6am bloody mary at the Drawing Room (where the matchbooks read, “Come in as a friend / Leave with a stranger”). I discovered Caf√© Luna Sol (RIP) and Mama’s Tamales and Elysian Park. And all of this I blame squarely on killradio. They DID teach me to DJ. They taught me how to moderate a consensus-based collective. They taught me some kickass process. I learned how to make a LAN connection-thingy with a Pringles can. And I rediscovered my love for the rock.
The little radio collective has managed to scrappily continue, despite financial hardship, changing locations, FCC smitties, internal conflicts and the slings and arrows of capitalist Los Angeles quite prodigiously, until now. The office they’re in may be kickin’ ’em out to re-do the whole building, and they have about fifty cents in their bank account. So they’re having a benefit concert at The Echo this Thursday, and everyone should come. You! Yes, you! I see you there! Get out of those pajamas and put on your white belt and rock it for all the square cool! ‘Cuz they’re super-cool bands–and in fact, this is the last show the Transmissions will ever play (in their current incarnation).
See y’all there!
The Echo, 1822 W. Sunset Blvd., Echo Park near the Glendale underpass.
Starts at 8:30pm. 18+, $5. ONLY $5!!! WHAT A FREAKIN’ DEAL!