Tuesday, October 12, 2010
#216: Theme From Hill Street Blues
I upset far too many people. Not because of what I played, or what I said, or what I did, but how I did it. I had an attitude of ‘if I like it then someone else will’ and I was right, hell, I’m still right now. However there were too many hippies who hated me, mainly because I’d gone further and worked at the ABC (fucking sell out), approached day shifts with a professional attitude (fucking sell out), didn’t whisper into the microphone (fucking sell out) and was articulate to the point of taking professional lessons in media and radio broadcasting (fucking sell out). Their idea of Iggy Pop was Cry For Love and Candy, mine was I Wanna Be Your Dog and I’m Bored. That shows the gap between us. Sure, I’d play local bands, indeed I was a local band once, and I loved, and still do, love local music, but, frankly, The Jaynes sucked then and still suck now so I’d refuse to play them. I never hid the fact that I loved, and still do, music that spans and crosses genres, and my taste is eclectic to say the least. They hated me because I brought money into the station, via subscription and by buying, in bulk, all of the records and CDs that some people either wanted to steal or throw out. In short I brought several thousand dollars into the station, but my reward was to be hounded out. So I left. Or I was pushed, take your pick. I know the truth, as do others, however the revisionists there keep inventing shit.
Would I go back? Sometimes I think yes, as there’s plenty of great music to play to annoy everyone. Sometimes I think yes, as it was fun. Sometimes I think yes, as there’s just too many people out there with the same voice, the same stale jokes and the same racist views. Sometimes I think yes as I know that I’d be an individual surrounded by clones and that’s a great thing to do, as you stand out. But then I remember the people I had to deal with, some of whom have made a career out of being unemployed (shades of Norm Barber) and have made a career out of being annoying, whiny, complaining bastards. When I’m asked, and I am asked a bit, if I’d go back, I always say, “Sure, if they’d leave me alone and just let me get on with it.” But, I’m told, that’d never happen, because there’s always someone who believes that they know better than you do, and it’s the ones who know far less who are the most vocal about it. Call it passive-aggressive bullying, but every workplace has those cliques, those people who hate to see anyone doing better than they ever will, hate seeing anyone *gasp* happy and hate seeing anyone, well, they just hate seeing anyone.
I hate those people with a passion. If you want a fight, have the guts to front me and raise your fists and see how far you get, otherwise get off my lawn, you fat bastard.