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The Party Underground

KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am

The accordionist’s boot was tangled in a mangrove root. The deepening dusk of Meads Bay Pond brought with it a soft breeze and an ugly threat of bug swarms. Their chances of getting to the beach and capturing enough glowing sugar crabs were dwindling. The roots, more like underwater dreadlocks, heaved as the booted foot attempted to twist out, the accordion case held high as counterbalance. The technician glared at the spectacle briefly before shining a light on the clipboard. In the distance, a barbershop quartet with a Tuvan throat-singing baritone made it incongruous presence known. The keys to the long-range waterbikes had a floaty thing on them, but they were permanently attached to the metal clipboard, which would sink like a stone. The Governor’s Office back in The Valley would certainly hear about this.

The accordionist’s boot was tangled in a mangrove root. The deepening dusk of Meads Bay Pond brought with it a soft breeze and an ugly threat of bug swarms. Their chances of getting to the beach and capturing enough glowing sugar crabs were dwindling. The roots, more like underwater dreadlocks, heaved as the booted foot attempted to twist out, the accordion case held high as counterbalance. The technician glared at the spectacle briefly before shining a light on the clipboard. In the distance, a barbershop quartet with a Tuvan throat-singing baritone made it incongruous presence known. The keys to the long-range waterbikes had a floaty thing on them, but they were permanently attached to the metal clipboard, which would sink like a stone. The Governor’s Office back in The Valley would certainly hear about this.
Redd Kross
SongArtistNotes
The Party Underground
Redd Kross
Come on down!
Surf Machine
Spot 1019
The gnarliest
Special One
Ultra Vivid Scene
Side of heavenly Deal
— • BREAK • —
Permission
Seratones
Don’t mess with fingersnaps
Hang On
Illinois
Insistent LFO
Ready For The Floor
Hot Chip
Overclocked
Potato Chips Polka
Brave Combo
For late night potato chip consumption
— • BREAK • —
Feels Surreal
The Shivas
Desert surf
Don't Care
Klark Kent
If you really want to hang around
Too Much Pork for Just One Fork
Southern Culture On The Sklds
A terrible problem
Rainsong
Mosquitos
Gentle drops
— • BREAK • —
Only Child
The Raconteurs
A Detroit howler
Desiree
The Elected
Bedroom music
Memories
The Extra Glenns
Originally by Leonard Cohen
By Your Side
Beachwood Sparks
Music for sunsets
— • BREAK • —
Laid In Gold
Twin Peaks
Mountain sound
The Box
1990s
A cautionary tale
White Sheets, Tight Bed
Mastretta
For those that sleep in the middle
— • BREAK • —
Runnin’ with the Devil
The Bird + the Bee
So delicious
Oversized Pin Cushion
C. Gibbs And The Cardia Bros.
Neckshots
Etoufee
Takako Minekawa
Space kittens
Another Chorus
Violent Femmes
Heavy meta
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Peace Out
Jay Som
Low menace
So Blue
Frankie Cosmos
Flashing past the mile markers
Going With Him
Kim Stevenson
Bad decision
Ladyfingers
The Fever
Bouncing jaggies
— • BREAK • —
Kaddish
Ghost Funk Orchestra
Stealth beat
Quick Fix
VV Brown
Sugar high
Whiskey Love Song
Wammo
It’s sounding Heinous
Superman
Trabant
Via Iceland
— • BREAK • —
Roxy Funk
The Sure Fire Soul Ensemble
Good stank
Freddie's Dead
Fishbone
Curtis Mayfield was the man
I Got To Tell You
Dr. Octagon
What was that number again?
Diversion
Ty Segall
Massive fuzz
— • BREAK • —
Ghost In The Trees
Thee Oh Sees
Espooky
Wait
Close Talker
Is it a Seinfeld reference?
It Takes A Muscle
M.I.A.
Vocodering
Hey Bore Hey
Boredoms
Not boring
— • BREAK • —
Wrong Number
Stubborn All-Stars
Old-fashioned!
When The Girls Get Here
Young Fresh Fellows
That should impress them
He's Breaking My Heart
The Neon Angels
Hot stuff
Everybody's Gonna Be Happy
The Kinks
Happiness all around
— • BREAK • —
Fortune Tellin' Chicken
Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet
It’s never wrong
The Truth
Handsome Boy Modeling School
Noir soul
Roll On
Electric Spinach
What about Joaquin?
— • BREAK • —
Slipping
Jagwar Ma
Just a taste
Archives

Approximately Relevant

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Jamie's Cryin'

Jamie's Cryin'

There was no official name for this giant hole, this cavern that truly made you realize the proper utilization of the word “cavernous”. Those who knew of its existence referred to it as the “Sarlacc Pit”, while the geologists debated what to call this previously unseen feature in the farthest reaches of British Columbia. The ophthalmologist could not help but recount these facts as they descended into its depths; they were the chatty sort and had barely endured a few hours of self-reflection in the noisy Chinook that had brought the expedition here. The conductor whistled a short melody and listened for the glorious reverberation. The nearest person who could recognize its Peruvian punk origins was 2,524 miles away.

Supersonics

Supersonics

The Sasha river was running dry, and the aerialist maneuvered his craft to take advantage of the fact. As they moved swiftly along the crumbling banks, exoskeletal legs easily scrabbling over the terrain in an unearthly three-limbed gait, they encountered sun-baked sections where a trickle fed a series of pools on the cracking river bottom, animals congregated around them in a temporary truce. They hadn’t seen a human since Saturday, a fact that concerned the actuary more than the dry river, and the attempted distraction of some Guatemalan gamelan techno was not working. In its steel box, the package of Peanut Butter Crunch patiently rustled and awaited its delivery.

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.

Sometimes II

Sometimes II

The economist wondered where they’d be if the herpetologist had been available. Probably not prone under a cover of leaves, covered in protective armor, tapping two small bamboo sticks as a ruse to attract a golden lancehead. The rhythm was from the single Nordic folk d’n’b that had played on repeat 142 times on their trip out of the Port of Santos. It had been difficult to find a captain willing to land them on Ilha de Quemaida, so it was not wise to criticize their choice of music for the journey. The epidemiologist was nearby, peering into the carefully held vial and running the numbers on when it would be filled at the current rate of collection, and how quickly they could get off the island once that moment arrived.