The Little Radio Station That Couldn’t
by James Roland
I heard a ghost on the radio the other day.
Idling in traffic on Cahuenga Boulevard, I dialed in the only station I truly loved, the only one I could stand to hear for more than two blocks of traffic, and found a tinny recorded message proclaiming that Indie 103.1 was off the air.
Pressured by poor economics to play songs it hated, the station opted to bow out rather than sell out. They packed up their spirit and particular fondness for The Smiths and abandoned the airwaves for the ideal surfing waves of the Internet. Suddenly, my daily commute had no soundtrack.
Where did I put my CD case? Do I even have a CD case? Why don’t I have one of those iPod adapters?!
Indie caught my ear in March 2007. Coasting down the hill into San Fernando Valley, I hit SCAN on my radio. Digital numbers flitted by and barely caught on the weak signal that rarely escapes Hollywood and Orange County. Faintly, I heard Joe Escalante bantering his way through the self-proclaimed “Last of the Famous International Morning Shows” like a Buffy the Vampire Slayer character that Joss Whedon rejected for being too glib.
The show was swift, entertaining, and never, ever crass. On “Wino Wednesdays,” Escalante and gang brought wine experts to the station and “sipped” their way through three bottles. On Fridays, he brought us “Barely Legal,” two hours of straight-up entertainment legal advice from Escalante himself. Armed with his wit, a law degree, and years of punk insanity as the sole constant member of The Vandals, he took on the calls of struggling artists and producers from around the country. And every day the morning show spiced up the normally boring necessities of rush-hour radio, utilizing actor Timothy Olyphant for sports and meta-filmmaker David Lynch for weather reports.
Indie afternoons featured Steve Jones from the Sex Pistols. “Jonesy’s Jukebox” had only one rule: Jonesy could do whatever he wanted within FCC regulation without any station interference. His shows alternated among stories about Bob Dylan, random bursts of angry ’70s Beat poetry, and long stretches of psychedelic sound effects as Jonesy and his assistant “Big Head” sailed through deep ocean trenches in a submarine. Friday afternoons were extra special. The DJ handpicked cohosts for “Jonesy’s Jukebox Jury,” and the random group would listen to, and judge, new music. In one episode, Jonesy invited scientists from the NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena just so he could see what kind of music rocket scientists liked.
Indie 103.1’s more than 25 other original programs included “Check One . . . Two” (local bands), “Dead Air” (live acoustic performances), “Passport Approved” (foreign bands), and “Big Sonic Heaven” (electronica).
No matter the show, one rule applied: All the music was independent and interesting.
Within a week of listening, this musical troglodyte first heard the Sex Pistols, The Smiths, and the Ramones. Over the year I discovered Coconut Records, The Airborne Toxic Event, Dengue Fever, Vampire Weekend, and MGMT months before they appeared in movie soundtracks and annoyed drunk bar patrons via shameless overplay.
I listened to Indie every day, it was the only station on my dial, I never took it off.
In September 2008 I left on a four-month journey to Asia. And when I returned in 2009, something had changed. The morning show was gone. There was less punk music, more pop.
On the morning of January 15th, I turned off my car engine and walked into work. While I sat at my computer, Indie’s parent company, Entravision, made the decision to quit broadcasting on the terrestrial airwaves, and by 10 a.m. all staff and DJs were evacuated from the building.
Or at least that’s how it went down according to Wikipedia.
No matter the details, when I climbed into my car that evening, I was met with a prerecorded message on a constant loop with a few punk songs, including the famous Sid Vicious cover of Sinatra’s “My Way.”
I listened to the message and handful of songs as I drove home in rush-hour traffic. It must have looped more than 15 times. As I crested a hill, far north where the signal always faded, this was the last thing I heard:
“Indie 103.1 was recently faced with only one option — to play the corporate radio game. We have decided not to play that game any longer. Rather than changing the sound, spirit, and soul of what has made Indie 103.1 great, Indie 103.1 will bid farewell to the terrestrial airwaves and take an alternative course. This could only be done on the Internet, a place where rules do not apply and where new music thrives; be it grunge, punk, or alternative — simply put, only the best music.”
Will the Internet be the place where Indie is resurrected, reborn, or simply laid to rest? Maybe as the world turns into ones and zeros, Indie will grow into a brilliantly eclectic artistic haven. Until then, we can support them as best we can on their website . . . and let this article serve as a digital headstone for the best radio station I ever heard.
The last time I dialed in, the terrestrial version of 103.1 was playing mariachi music.
I could almost hum “Another One Bites the Dust,” but that’s just the sort of song Indie 103.1 would refuse to play.
*Editorial Note* Recent interviews have shed light on the mysterious message that played on the day Indie 103.1 died. Apparently, that message did not come from the actual Indie staff, and the decision to go off the air was made entirely by the parent company, not the staff that picked the music and made the programs. For more information:
Daily Swarm Interview with Mark Sovel
L.A. Times Music Blog Interview with Jonesy
Images used under Creative Commons licenses:
Indie 103.1 care of S.C. Asher
Indie 103.1 care of Mark Schoneveld
Cross my heart care of Legendary Classic
Radio Indie 12.31.2003 – 1.15.2009 care of and_she_was
