KBHR570 Group

So there I am, three cups of coffee deep into a Tuesday morning at KBHR570, watching the needle bounce on this 1970s VU meter like it's having some kind of existential crisis, and I'm thinking about warmth. Not the kind you get from a good parka—though up here in Cicely, that's worth thinking about too—but the warmth people talk about when they describe analog sound. That mysterious, ineffable something that supposedly lives in the grooves and dies in the digits.

The analog folks—and I respect them, I do—they talk about warmth like it's something you can hold in your hands. They'll tell you about harmonic distortion, about how tape compression breathes with the music, about how vinyl crackle is somehow more honest than silence. And you know what? They're not wrong. There's something about dropping a needle on wax, hearing that anticipatory hiss before the music kicks in, that feels like a…

Tune in every Tuesday night for the Vinyl Vault. I will be spinning vintage vinyl right from the turntable.

8pm east/ 7 central/ 6 mountain/ 5pm west.

To the Wonderful Cicelians Tuning In:

There's this thing that happens when you press a button—any button, really—and sound comes out the other end. Could be a transistor radio crackling to life in some Idaho truck stop, could be your phone at 2 AM when sleep won't come and the silence gets too loud. Doesn't matter. What matters is you're there, on the other end of these invisible waves we're riding together.

And you are. You are there.

Look, I've been doing this long enough to know that nobody—and I mean nobody—stumbles onto an internet radio station broadcasting from the fictional coordinates of Cicely, Alaska by accident. You found us because you were looking for something. Maybe you didn't know what. Maybe you still don't. But somewhere between The Oscar Project's beer fueled humor and Smokie Bernstein's coffee-stained wisdom, between Nothing’s Perfect and whatever madness spills out during The Friday Night…