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Dub Night I
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
It’s Member Drive time, and nothing says “support your community radio station” louder than three hours of Dub Night. Not a whole lot of funding was raised, but no matter! Three hours of heavy bass rhythms were played.
Under The Waves
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
The Elected
This show kicks off with a one hour special entitled “Under The Waves” — songs about swimming, sinking, and other water-related activities. Somewhere in there we hear from The Elected, who are desperately missed.
Mendocino
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
Kiwi Jr.
What is in that Canadian water? Kiwi Jr. are burning up my speakers with their latest release, a rich concoction of perfectly crafted indie guitar pop that seems designed to be played loud, and if I’m supposed to stop doing that, then I guess I’ll be buying new speakers soon.
Accepting Applications at University
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
Pom Poko
It’s the triumphant return of Pom Poko and their shattered-and-reassembled attacks of aggression and affection, like the sonic equivalent of staying inside the sauna for as long as you can, then running out to roll around in the snow.
Queen Bee
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
Ghost Funk Orchestra
“Batu means ‘rock’ in Malay” said the photographer, for the third time in a week. The sous-chef ignored the comment, also for the third time, and tried squinting in the darkness at the cribbage board. They had been wise enough to purchase a glow-in-the-dark deck after all these midnight assignments, but had yet to extend their ingenuity to the board. Tapping a foot in irritation, they knocked over the thermos full of hot cocoa set on the steps, and it would have rolled down several long flights of guano-covered stairs had it not been stopped by the tandem bike’s wheel leaning against the statue’s pedestal. Above them, Lord Murugan stared stonily into the dark.
Noodle Soup
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
Born Ruffians
The journey to the island had been placid, cutting through the postcard-blue waters on the kite hydrofoil like an experienced tailor shearing fine cloth for a new suit. Things were a bit more complicated now that they were at the Heraklion Archaeological Museum. The horologist consulted the mission notes, which simply stated “remove all anachronistic displays.” The historian, fearing seasickness, had taken a pill and was now having a comically adverse reaction that rendered them useless for these judgements. A security guard eyed them warily, but perhaps they could turn the situation to their advantage by playing up the effects as excessive inebriation.
Nashville Record Co.
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
The Nude Party
The Shilin Night Market had seemed to grow even more chaotic in the intervening years, yet the vendors and customers still retained their preternatural calm, as if the events happening all around them were due to forces completely out of their control. As the skeptic checked the status lights on the Stinky Tofu Containment Device for the seventh time that mission, the inspector pinged the jetpacks they had secured under a table of bejeweled phone cases to make sure they were primed for a quick getaway. Their progress came to a sudden halt as they considered the sign before them: “Small Sausage In Large Sausage - $120”
Playlist for November 3, 2020
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
The Bobby Lees
The best place to hide seemed to be, ironically, right behind the ballot box. The numerologist and the baker had been underway on a wholly distinct mission, having already secured the deflated knifeboats inside a conveniently placed culvert. They now seemed to be caught in the crossfire of two opposing factions, each intent on some inscrutable and erratically violent purpose that seemed to be nothing but foiling the other side’s efforts. The roving skirmishes had drawn away participants and created a fairly event-free circle of balance where the pair could hunker down and plan their next move. It was going to be a long night.
Upbeat Ritual
KAFM Grand Junction, 9pm - 12am
Oh Sees
The haberdasher heard a light thump and roll, then felt something tap against a shoe. It was a peach pit. Looking up from the stack of brochures, they saw the orthodontist grinning and wiping their mouth with a sleeve, glancing at the gap on the blanket where the fruit was drying in the sun, clearly suggesting that perhaps another one was in order. The tandem moped leaned against the back of the Gate of Hercules, shielded by its bulk from the bright Croatian summer sun. The peaches had hours to go, and they had forgotten to bring a game., having only whatever reading material they had managed to scrape up in the Hotel Pula lobby.
