Charity on the Sly

Anyone who knows me knows I am huge fan of KCRW. I’m a huge fan of public radio in general and look to KCRW as the taste maker for music. I need KCRW in my day. As far as I’m concerned there is no other radio worth listening to in LA. It’s either KCRW or my iPod.

I got my start in music snobbery early. I was perfectly willing to come to blows over musical taste and once pulled over and kicked a friend out of my car for slagging one of my favorite bands. For me, musical taste is not a matter of opinion, it’s a question of right and wrong.

I honed this attitude in college radio where I worked with several of KCRW’s current players and where I developed my CD collection. Back then I’d try to explain to the frat boys that if they listened to us, they could hear the next Chili Peppers or Cure or Nirvana before they became huge. They’d be on the cutting edge. They’d have none of it. Being on the edge was too much work for them. They just wanted to have their tastes formed neatly for them by KROQ. Here I proudly state I never dated a sheep-brain frat boy.

Luckily, my man shares my tastes for the most part or we’d have ended in tears long ago. He takes it one further. When flipping across the dial, if we catch a glimpse of generic pop pablum (read: every other corporate station now that Indie 103.1 is dead), he’ll quip “Ah yes, music for people who don’t like music.” His tartness on this topic steals my heart. But he’s got a great point. Because if you really thought about what you were hearing on corporate stations, if you delved into the artistry, you’d find none. If you really listen, you couldn’t possibly be satisfied by corporate crap. It’s music for people who don’t really listen but just need something to fill their ears. Like aural junk food.

Anyway, I love my indie music and my NPR. So every six months when KCRW conducts their on-air fund drive I always sign up for as many shifts as I can fit into my overtaxed schedule. Until the day I can afford an angel membership, I feel it’s the best way I can give back. Plus you meet the coolest people. Plus it gives me a teeny nostalgia flashback of my college radio days. So much joy.

The thing is because of my overtaxed schedule, because I have so many people depending on me to run our company, I don’t feel I can tell anyone that’s what I’m doing with my day. I’m not alone.

This time around I struck up a conversation with the project manager at the phone across from mine. She furtively slipped off a cell phone call. “That was my work. As far as they know, I’m at the doctor.” Like me she was over-scheduled, trying to be great at three jobs at once, occasionally sleep and have a social life. Like me, she felt that if the people that depend on her knew she was helping instead of working they’d be pissed.

What is that? We should be proud of our charity. Heck, our work should be proud of our philanthropic spirit, not to mention our good taste in radio. Yet somehow, we both felt like kids that might get caught playing hooky. What does that say about the priorities of giving in our culture?

“Must be nice,” quips a co-worker when I slip up and mention my first shift. He heads back to his to-do list while I am left stinging from the implication that I’m not working as hard as he is. Though I am his boss, I feel the need to justify my choices, to prove that the company is not at risk if I also live my life.

In our modern life, balance seems like indulgence. If you have time to balance your life, you are not working hard enough. This feels like not seeing the forest for the trees.

Last year I wrote about the wonder of discovering the weekend again. I vowed not to work on weekends. As predicted, I have back-slid somewhat on this. That constant need to prove I’m working hard enough is a demanding master. But my co-worker is right, albeit unintentionally: taking time to do what I need for me must be nice indeed.

So, you know what, working world? I took time from my work week to help out a cause I believe in.

As I say that I feel the panic rising; “say you still got more work done than they did,” it chirps. I’m tempted but no.

That’s the lesson. I may have in fact gotten less done than you did. And I’m OK with that because I did something that helps define my life. I am reaching for balance and doing something that I believe is an important contribution for the greater good.

I may not be able to give everyone good music taste, but I can do my part to ensure good music is accessible for those of us who know it when we hear it. And even for those sheep-brains should they ever choose to change their dials. I may be years from my beloved college radio but I’m still fighting the good fight. And keeping that spirit alive helps me do a better, fulfilled job running my company. Everybody wins.

p.s. your favorite band sucks.

All I Wanna Do Is Rock

“I’m a foot without a sock without you.”

I wake up with the lyric running through my head. It makes me laugh. That’s something. I’m having a crappy month and not laughing much.

I sit down at my computer. It’s around 6:30 in the morning and I need to kill some time until it’s light enough out to hike. The first thing I see is the headline in my newsfeed: Nic Harcourt to leave KCRW.

Nic has been part of my musical life for years now. He’s an amazing taste maker responsible for breaking countless of my favorite bands. He’s part of my day and I will miss him. Now I think how much I would like to tell him that I’ll miss him and thank him for the difference he’s made for me. Without a personal connection to him enabling me to do so, I shut my laptop and go to school.

I get to my class and as my students are setting up it pops back in my head; “I’m a foot without a sock without you,” I sing. My girls laugh at me. They didn’t know the song. I often have to educate them in more ways than one. The band Travis, I explain, is an amazingly talented group of Scots. They make lovely, lush tunes and have been one of my favorites ever since I saw them blow Oasis off the stage in 2001 when I’d never heard of them. That’s why the song is in my head; they’re playing tonight and I can’t go because ironically I’m managing a music event at the British Consulate.

Aside from all the shows I've seen, I have a personal history with the band. I’d been on staff at KCRW’s last A Sounds Eclectic Evening and had had the good fortune to be assigned to take care of Travis. I'd gleefully snuck them cakes from the VIP kitchen and typed up their set list for them. I ended up hanging out with them after the show and was impressed by how down to earth they were – how tickled and grateful they seem by the fact they get to be rock stars. I’d struck up a friendship with the band’s manager and we kept in touch. A few months later, they were due at Coachella and the manager couldn’t lay hands on a tour bus. I helped them out through my assistant mafia and then got to hang out with the band again out there in the desert. To my delight they’d all remembered me: the cakes girl.

The music event at the Consulate is in full swing when my boyfriend introduces me to a friend of Travis’ agent. He’s headed over to the Travis show and has a plus one. I look around, am I really basically done with my party duties? I bolt out the door before anyone can change their minds. I feel like Cinderella rushing to the ball.

We walk into the small, packed Troubador and despite the fact that the set is already well underway, we end up with a prime spot in the VIP section. The boys rip into an old song. “I’m a foot without a sock without you,” Fran growls. I can’t help but laugh. Did my subconscious already know about this when I woke up?

The set is wonderful and energetic as always. I look to my right and realize I’m standing in arms’ length from Nic Harcourt. Fran gives him a shout-out for all the great work he’s done for good music, the crowd cheers and chants “Nic! Nic! Nic!” Later, I touch Nic’s shoulder and tell him I’ll miss him and thank him. He smiles. I think he’s genuinely touched by all the sentiment for him.

The show ends and my new friend asks if I want to go say hi to the band. Hmmm, let me think about that… A short while later, we’re in the green room and I’m thrilled. If they don’t actually remember me, the band does a great job of faking it. I reach to shake hands and Dougie says “we’re past that by now!” and grabs me for a hug. He tells me all about his new eight-month old and I tell him about my friend’s two-week old. Fran hugs me and we chat about the possibility of the boys playing Coachella again this year. I wish them luck as we leave and tell them I’ll see them in the desert this spring.

It’s after 1 in the morning as I crawl back into bed. I struggle to calm my thoughts enough to sleep, thankful for the good fortune of my day. Sometimes a song about a sock is all it takes to restore my faith in life and the Universe.

"If this was any other day,

I'd turn and walk the other way,

but today

I'll stay

OK"