Tappa-Tappa-Tappa
Through some form of self flagellation I find myself inexplicably drawn towards the radio stations on the odd side of the tracks. Most moderately sized cities have at least one of these stations where, on apparently random unplanned time-slots, one can listen to 20 minutes of a recording from an underpass. Sometimes you’re lucky enough on these stations to catch something that will some day be big and new, even though it was new the first time you heard it. Other times it sounds like you’re listening to an off tune rendition of Handel’s Messiah recorded by three guys named Barth playing the tune on kazoos while inside a hyperbaric chamber.
Today’s lesson?
Tap dance routines do not translate well on radio.