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Cheye Calvo

KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am

The Cadillac engine roared with naked abandon behind the driver. It was the familiar rumble of the seven-liter-plus workhorse, but its power was unleashed on a propellor instead of a bulky automatic transmission. At the airboat’s prow, the tracker kept an eye on the reeds that protruded in clumps from the murky water. Barely audible on the comm link were the strains of some forgotten psychedelic blues. A promising glint along the mangroves gave hope they had found the downed satellite. It turned out to be the stare of a brooding twelve-foot alligator, unwilling to leave the scene. The search continued.

The Cadillac engine roared with naked abandon behind the driver. It was the familiar rumble of the seven-liter-plus workhorse, but its power was unleashed on a propellor instead of a bulky automatic transmission. At the airboat’s prow, the tracker kept an eye on the reeds that protruded in clumps from the murky water. Barely audible on the comm link were the strains of some forgotten psychedelic blues. A promising glint along the mangroves gave hope they had found the downed satellite. It turned out to be the stare of a brooding twelve-foot alligator, unwilling to leave the scene. The search continued.
American High
SongArtistNotes
Cheye Calvo
American High
Sweet sweet collapse
National Debate
R. Stevie Moore
Like an XTC flashback
I Don't Wanna Go
Coco Hames
Girl groups afire
— • BREAK • —
The Bright Side
They Might Be Giants
Can't have too much
Wait (Don't Rush Me)
Tony Cook
Funk emigre
Until The Fire
Ladytron
Keeping warm
Lunático
Gotan Project
Mad tango
— • BREAK • —
Sins Are Forgiven
The Dandy Warhols
Cashing in
Blue And Pink
Mike Krol
Each and both
#9
Commercial
The ninest
Spinning Wheel
What!
Dub magic
— • BREAK • —
Bubblehouse
Medeski, Martin + Wood
Bubbling up
Ragin' Eyes
Nick Lowe
He wants to tell her
Garden of Eden
They Might Be Giants (with Robin 'Goldie' Goldwasser)
So obscure
Prison Song
The Silos
An undiscovered motherlode
— • BREAK • —
Ad Astra
Heaters
Epic construction
You're Running Wild
The Transgressors
That new old sound
End Of The Week
The Photon Band
The sound of Psychedelphia
— • BREAK • —
Haig Earl
Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet
Best song titles
Yardsale
Mike West
Let's go skiing!
Easy
Pavo Pavo
Languid
Biomusicology
Ted Leo + the Pharmacists
Such a dynamic
— • BREAK • —
Breeze
Lush
Timeless
Voy A Ser Mama
Stereo Total
Hope for the future
Sukiyaki
Oranger
Set fuzz on 12
— • BREAK • —
What Floats Her Boat
The Samuel Jackson Five
Reverberations and echoes
Texas Fox
The Low Frequency In Stereo
Implacable stuff from Norway
She's Crafty
Beastie Boys
gimme some Ocean
Everybody's Girl
The Dwarves
A racing fuse
— • BREAK • —
The Majesty of Rock
Vertacyn Arc Materializer
Long form of madness
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Futurism

Futurism

The keypad beeped softly as the astronomer keyed in the coordinates. It was deepest darkest night on the altiplano, the stars above an unfamiliar configuration for those born to northern skies. The physicist tapped their pencil against their favorite clipboard (the metal one), the coffee-stained papers clipped to it showing the revised calculations for the Hole In The Sky. Over the tinny intercom, hacked because both had forgotten to bring a speaker, a particularly ironic song choice began to play, making them instinctively share a knowing glance.

Around Part 1

Around Part 1

The specialist carefully manipulated the waldoes linked to the robotic arms in the front of the submersible. The pilot peered out of the top dome, the glare of the spotlights illuminating the complex structure of the oil rig but the visibility of this part of the Gulf of Mexico not allowing much to be seen past the first couple tangles of girders. A single wire tethered the craft to the surface, its sole purpose safely delivering the radio signal carrying its obscure music and coded instructions past fathoms of seawater. The robot arms clasped the watertight bale of Oaxacan tamales tightly. The mission was only half over.

Hot! Heat! Wow! Hot!

Hot! Heat! Wow! Hot!

I believe this is the first time we’ve hit four exclamation marks for a playlist’s name, courtesy of Australia’s Psychedelic Porn Crumpets and their very doge-titled track. Elsewhere tonight, a special themed segment that attests to the powers of random selection!

Morning Song

Morning Song

The carpenter took a leisurely walk around the perimeter. In the weird light cone projected by the light they had installed at the top of the can, the ropes they had used to rappel down looked like the undulating tentacles of a mysterious jellyfish. Outside the cylindrical building that very deliberately resembled an oversized Coca Cola can, the security guard’s radio played Chicago sambas into the crisp Manitoba evening as he idly played his flashlight over the bushes outside. The choreographer stifled a giggle. On one of the ornithopters parked atop the domed top, next to an opening that looked like someone forgot to bring a canopener, a single LED began to blink. The mission was running out of time.