I’ve probably mentioned before that as a little kid I used to make tapes of a pretend radio station called “K23: Greek music, relaxing hits, and information” (the station ID I delivered in an abrasively singsong tone). I conducted make-believe interviews, gave talk-radio-style commentary, improvised commercials where I hollered about products being on sale for prices that made no sense. Inexplicably, I also had a makeover show, despite its nonsensicality in a solely auditory medium. In one installment I gave my Yaya a catastrophic-sounding hairstyle called “the Drumstick”, which, obviously, was left to the imagination.
Now, some thirty-five years later, I have finally decided to learn how to DJ for real. Our local university’s radio station assessed the online form I submitted whimsically one night at 2 a.m. in the hope of volunteering for them, and the role they deemed me most suited for was apparently on-air talent for the (mostly late-night) Rock Department. Eeep!
Last night I shadowed a DJ for the first time, from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m., and immediately I had the distinct feeling I was in The Right Place. That I was doing something that didn’t seem like an arbitrary and ridiculous way to spend my time. It was a pleasant feeling, to say the least.
There will be several more shadows, and eventually a test, which, if I pass, will qualify me to be added to the pool of volunteer DJs eligible to sub for full-fledged DJs when they’re absent (since I have the ole day-job-and-chain, for me this means weekends only). If that goes well, eventually, I could be granted… MY OWN SHOW. ::angels singing::
All this has of course necessitated that I give some thought to my DJ alias, and the name of my prospective program, and its fanciful paragraph-long promo spiel (NOTE: each rock department specialty show on this station has one).
It so happens that all of these things came to me in a fervid brainstorm last night!
Strap in.
Within the last couple years, at a local used record store, I picked up a DVD of Clint Eastwood’s Play Misty for Me – which folks of a certain age range will recognize as the yarn of a stylishly masculine overnight radio host who does too good a job of seducing his listeners, leading to his being targeted by a deranged stalker. Viewers are split over whether the film is misogynistic or simply campy fun; in any event, the lifestyle of Dave Garver before he mistakenly rendezvous with crazy looks enviable. A free agent, mingling poems with velvety standards over the airwaves, zooming along the cliffs of Carmel-by-the-Sea in his Jaguar drophead coupe, in cool darkness, hair all a-ripple.
But I didn’t want to be named after Garver, or the car, or the titular song (after all, a name that’s great conceptually can still have bad mouthfeel). So, I dug a bit deeper. Turns out Eastwood’s production company, the one that put out Misty, has an intriguing name, and one that rolls pretty well off the tongue:
Malpaso.
As in, Spanish for “bad step”.
You can probably guess that I like that for several reasons.
-It echoes the theme of the movie, in which one bad step – the choice to sleep with Evelyn Draper – set all hell loose.
-I have made a few libido-driven poor choices myself.
-I have a Spanish last name.
-Since childhood I have often been curious about taking the proverbial “road less traveled”, sometimes to my own detriment.
There’s also the overarching mission I have in mind for my show, which – and I know this will come as a shock to you! – has to do with nostalgia and longing and dysfunctional fantasy… arguably, the constructs that Erroll Garner’s song “Misty” represents in the film. Those matters of human yearning we all know, which characters like Evelyn Draper take much too far.
In fact, I decided: why be vague, when the trusty, dusty disorder that is “Limerence Addiction” (which I prattle on about endlessly here) sounds like a radio-show-appropriate name in and of itself? Let’s just call the show THAT, why don’t we?
On to the content. True to my personal predilections, said show-possible will feature a generous helping of nostalgic standards (think “A Very Good Year”, “Que Sera Sera”,) mixed with songs from theater (think “Memory”, “Send in the Clowns”), seasoned with songs that reside at the intersection of cabaret/music hall/vaudeville and rock (think Bowie’s “Time”, Leonard Cohen’s “I’m Your Man”, Roxy Music’s “Bittersweet”, Cockney Rebel’s “Tumbling Down”). Of course, my music tastes being as eclectic as they are, the show won’t ALL be like that, but that blend of wistfulness, mystique, and theatricality is the core thesis from which all other tangents will spring forth.
And finally, here’s the promo spiel to tie it all together, which other DJs would have to read aloud (lol) from time to time. (Yes, I laid it on thick, but such appears to be the custom around those parts):
At the burnt-out end of another smoky day, sabotage your own bedtime with waking fantasies that conquer the cruelty of the daylight hours. Join DJ Malpaso for Limerence Addiction: a collective paroxysm of nostalgia, craving, and, dare I say it: hope.
See, what we have going on there is:
-T.S. Eliot: check
-Revenge bedtime procrastination: check
-Maladaptive daydreaming: check
-Lost souls bonded in fruitless longing: check
Hold on to your bed pillows, C’ville!
The Sold Kingdom 
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