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Supersonics

KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am

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.

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.
Caravan Palace
SongArtistNotes
Supersonics
Caravan Palace
Perks you up
Radio Apeshot
Brainiac
Waiting for the movie to stream…
Pictures Of Matchstick Men
Camper Van Beethoven
Originally by Status Quo
— • BREAK • —
Don't Know Any
Le Big Zero
Spastic pop symphony
The More You Say You Know
Blue Skies for Black Hearts
Straight outta Portland
Endless Pain / Endless Joy
Ra Ra Riot
Heavy artillery
Cake for Pronoun
Coyle & Sharpe
My cohorts at work and I will consume it
— • BREAK • —
Crown
Jay Som
Slipping into Lush
John Hardy Was a Desperate Little Man
Petra Haden and Bill Frisell
A real trifecta
Towers Of London
XTC
True punk roots
I’m Nothing (feat. Stefan Janoski)
Violent Femmes
True nihilism
— • BREAK • —
The Thing Is
Foxygen
Sounding quite Bossy
Malibu
Boom Pam
Tuba surf
Ten More Minutes to Live
House of Freaks
Grim thoughts
The Lighthouse Keeper
Alfie
Pastoral tick tock
— • BREAK • —
Campus Life
The Sure Fire Soul Ensemble
Hott funkk
Summer Blue
Money Mark
Summer cool
Mere Imposters
Solex
Kicking the toy box
Pussy Cat Rocks
Pepe Deluxe
Hissss
— • BREAK • —
James Bond
Iggy Pop
Slow it down
Rebel Rebel
David Bowie
Hot tramp
Xanadu
Zero Zero
Spiraling through a dream
This Swirling
Frankie Cosmos
Strums
— • BREAK • —
Your Inarticulate Boyfriend
Jenny Toomey
He can barely form a compound sentence
Ukulele Lady
Petty Booka
Super adorbs
Suddenly Upsidedown
Oranger
Best of 2001
— • BREAK • —
Sandpaper One Side, Rubber On The Other
The Bobby Tenderloin Universe
The new dark country
Hey Gyp (Dig The Slowness)
The Raconteurs
Originally by Donovan
Back Door
Treat Her Right
Howling at the back door
(I Know) The Trip
Swell
Losing count
— • BREAK • —
Rated R Crusaders
Ezra Furman
The start and the stop
Buddy Holly
The Moog Cookbook
Intro via Jean-Michel Jarre
April 29th, 1992 (Miami)
Ozomatli
Quite sublime
— • BREAK • —
Madalena
Gilberto Gil
Brazil classic
Wet Rainbow
Tipsy
Stretching through space
The Kindest Cut
Ultra Vivid Scene
Whispered entreaties
Sunflower
Low
Ancient subtleties
— • BREAK • —
Turn Me On
The Shivas
Hit that switch
Mort Clinique
Magnetix
Grind and fuzz
Her Eyes Are A Blue Million Miles
Captain Beefheart
From the abstract dimension
— • BREAK • —
The Ballad Of Paul Yates
The Philistines Jr.
There is a new video!
When You're Next To Me
Mitch & Mickey
Folk genius
New City Rock
Jimmy Nations Combo
The real cool cats
— • BREAK • —
Electrocuted
Babe Rainbow
Afrobeat to go
Archives

Approximately Relevant

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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.

I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend

I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend

Out of all the ways there were to get into Zugdidi — they could have taken the ekranoplan, for example — the agency had chosen the bus. This exasperated the developer to no end. Their gear sat somewhere in the guts of the green behemoth, guarded by six different hardware and software protocols, but it still felt queasy to be so far removed from it. The meteorologist peered across the botanical garden to the Dadiani palaces. Somewhere in there, a nondescript yogurt stand would have a small radio playing Konnakkol techno. They were to purchase two cones and overpay. Instructions would follow.

The Party Underground

The Party Underground

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.

Carnage Bargain

Carnage Bargain

Would the tour of palaces never end? Having visited several monarchical residences, the cobbler had become habitually underwhelmed with the perpetual ostentation. Taking a seat at a padded bench to admire the mosaics of Dar al-Makhzen, the topologist hummed a Balkan square-dancing melody. The ancient Land Cruiser that had brought them here, well-cared for and highly-modified, sat in a modern parking lot that clashed with the surrounding Moroccan geometry. They pretended to take some selfies while monitoring the 360° camera feed coming from the vehicle.