And now, I'm just waiting on Ira Glass...

Production has...begun?

Perhaps I'm too bold. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe "begun" is not the right word, or I should have said "pre-production." But I don't really care for timidity, and I trust my choice of words most of the time, so why not here? The point is this: today marks my first real step in beginning my radio show, Don't Blame the Sidewalk (still the working title - I haven't decided on anything just yet). And I'm just all too excited about this. 

Ten minutes before the local post office closed, I picked up my new favorite toy, the previously-mentioned USB microphone, the eminent arrival of which has had me fidgety for the last week or so. But I took it back to my room, opened the box, assembled the desktop stand and plugged the microphone into my computer. I installed the included recording software. And I set all the levels. Eager to try out the microphone and the software, but unsure as to what I should say, I searched for the one reliable source I could think of, Googling "this american life transcript." A few episode transcripts popped up - the award-winners about the economy - and I picked one (Episode #375: Bad Bank) that I remembered as being promising. I donned my padded, producer-style headphones, leaned in close - but not too close - to the microphone, clicked record, and read:

"The news has gotten kind of confusing. I don't know if I'm allowed to say that as a person who talks here, on the public radio. It's confusing, to me. Especially all the stuff about the trouble the banks are in. You know, you turn on The Today Show at random, you can find yourself watching something like this: ..."

Of course, I didn't have the sound clip that the "like this: " promised, so I paused for a moment, and read on:

"Forget it. Here's what I understand, what I think most of us understand. Stock market is way down. It seems to be dropping. Banks aren't lending. Even though the government has given them hundreds of millions of dollars of our money to help them start lending again. And my life, your life, the entire economic fate of our country, and the world for the next decade depends on whether or not the United States can fix its banking system. And maybe you're on the verge of just giving up, of figuring that this is just going to be one of those news stories that you're just going to kind of sit out, you know? I sat out Kosovo. I'm not proud about that fact, but I did. Well, if that's your situation, I have good news for you. From WBEZ Chicago, it's This American Life, distributed by Public Radio International. Today's show is another collaboration between us and NPR News. the collapse of the U.S. banking system explained in just 59 minutes. Stay with us."

I won't claim to have nailed it the first time, but after several readings, I knew what it was about. I figured out the stresses, the cadences. I got rid of the stiffness in my voice and thought about how to make it more conversational. And then I thought about music. I picked a song by Penguin Cafe Orchestra that I had heard used on This American Life before, and went to work with the recording software. Equalizing. Fading here, amplifying there. Finally, I came up with one minute, forty-two seconds of polished audio. I listened to it. It sounded like radio. So I replayed it again. And again. Maybe once more, before I leave for a bit?

I've listened to the clip more than a dozen times, and that's just on my iTunes...that doesn't account for the listening and re-listening that I gave it while editing. Perhaps that seems narcissistic, but I'm just so damned excited for the possibilities! I spent most of the evening coming up with topics for shows, thinking about who might be interested in contributing, and where. I've nearly named the microphone, but I haven't quite gotten a feel for its personality...yet. Look, I got so worked up about the whole thing that I even e-mailed Ira Glass, host of This American Life, to see if he would grace me with a phone interview and some advice for my first (conceptual) episode, "Advice." We'll see if he - rather, his assistant, as that is whom I had to e-mail - gets back to me about that. I have my fingers crossed, and you should, too.

But with or without Ira Glass, I can tell you with some certainty: it won't be long...

If you trip in public...

I did not expect to have to write this post quite yet, but as Fate would have it, here I am. I recently discovered that, under the terms of my internship with WKCO, it will soon be possible for me to begin my own radio show. Now, I certainly have the option to spin music for an hour or two, once a week, for the rest of the semester - and I may very well do that. But my long-term plan for my radio show, definitely beginning next semester, is one much grander...

I've been giving this pitch a lot lately - I can practically give it in my sleep - and it starts like this: "Have you heard of This American Life? Well, on that show, they begin each week by announcing a topic or theme, and they have journalists, artists, commentators, et cetera create stories based (sometimes quite loosely) on that theme." And that's the idea. I'd like to put together a weekly show with contributions from students, faculty, and community members from Kenyon College and the surrounding area. Of course, I'd love to solicit the help of some of my friends and acquaintances from all over, as well. But I want to tell people's stories. I want to give people the chance to record the events of their lives and their most provocative thoughts  in a permanent way. And I want the chance to produce creatively with a deadline, which - because I'm terrible at self-imposing deadlines - might be the only way to vent my creative energy. It will prepare me for my prospective line of work. It will keep me writing. It will allow us to know a bit more about one another. It will be a project that I love.

At the moment, this project is moving forward under the working title Don't Blame the Sidewalk, mainly because that's the best name I've come up with, at the moment. (Other contenders include Life-Sized Map and The Ambitious Re-Write, though I don't think either of those has quite the punch I'm looking for.) And I've been working on some ideas for themes, though I think I'll hold off on those until a later date. But the ideas are stewing, and with a bit of free time coming up and the delivery of a new condenser mic pending, the project is just moments from getting on its feet.

So, to my reading audience: if you have story ideas or thoughts on what I should call my show, let me know. Comment. E-mail me. Facebook me, if you have that option. This show can't happen without creative and temporal contributions. And if you're curious about where I got Don't Blame the Sidewalk, consider how I'd sign out from week-to-week:

"This is Daniel Barnett from WKCO, reminding you: if you trip in public, don't blame the sidewalk."

[Photos: Top Right: Hardcore Microphone courtesy of Latente on Flickr. Bottom Left: Alesis USB Condenser Microphone, aka, the (hopefully-of-decent-quality) mic on its way to my door-step as we speak.]

This is WKCO, you're on the air...

"Hello, you're listening to WKCO: Kenyon College Radio. This is Daniel Barnett filling in for Alex Murphy. Tonight, I'm going to be bringing you songs in every color of the rainbow; that is, songs which feature colors in their lyrics, titles, albums, artists, et cetera. Up first we have Jimi Hendrix with Purple Haze. Enjoy."

I looked down at the soundboard and I realized the microphone was not on, and that I had been speaking into a muted, aluminum tube for the last minute or so. No-one had heard me. I chuckled, took a deep breath, brought the mic up, and began again - this time, without the nervousness of the initial lead-in. I cued up Hendrix and got to work, furiously putting together a set-list for the two-hour slot. It appeared as though I had a long night ahead of me.

Last night, I hosted my first radio show. I began interning with WKCO, my college's radio station, about a month ago, and I'm incredibly excited to be delving into the world of broadcasting for the first time. In the midst of an uneventful evening yesterday, Alex, a senior working on his thesis project, sent out an e-mail to all associated with the station, asking for someone to cover his 8:00-10:00 PM slot that night. It was 7:30. Being one of the new kids on the block at WKCO, I didn't know whether or not I could accept that invitation, but I was chomping at the bit to do so. Knowing that there were a couple of DJ's working at the station, I walked down and joined them in the midst of their show. After a few minutes of talking between songs, I brought up the fact that Alex wouldn't be taking up the reigns, and that I was wondering...

About five minutes later, I found myself running back to my room to pick up my laptop so that I had some familiar music on hand. I called up a friend of mine: "Kelly, what are you doing RIGHT NOW? I need a co-host." I arrived at 8:05, huffing and puffing but with gear in tow, and set up. By 8:10, I was on the air, playing Purple Haze, Yellow Submarine, Sky Blue Sky, Greenback Dollar, The Black Keys, et cetera. Once my co-host, and a few mutual friends, showed up, there were iPods floating back and forth with songs, and me switching between digital devices with increasing ease. We joked around between songs, justified playing songs containing no color - at one point, we played Fleetwood Mac because, well, Stevie Nicks sounds like a goat, and goats can be white or grey or brown or... - but generally, just having a blast. We bantered and prated back and forth, and at one point, my friend Brian even read a monologue on air in the voice of Alan Rickman. I could go on and on, but A) you probably just had to be there; and B) suffice it to say, we put on quite the production.

At 10 o'clock, I packed up my laptop and left the seat open for the next DJs. The night had been a blast, and left me looking forward to the next time someone needed a substitute or a partner. Before leaving, I checked the station's computer to see, just out of curiosity, how many people had heard this hap-hazard and far-too-enjoyable show I had just produced:

There were only seven people listening.