Rockabilly Foxtrot Radio by Chipka
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Description
A lazy curl of smoke unravels from the glowing-ember tip of the night’s first mentholated Kamel. It has been a hand’s span of hours since Hadley’s last smoke and his blood screamed for an infusion of nicotine. It was his late-night ritual: smoking. It was what he did when listening to the waves and trying to find voices in white-noise fuzz.
He sat alone in front of his boards. Smoke hazed the air. Outside—in some westerly distance—sirens wailed at the onset of some anonymous emergency. Police sirens. The city was loud with such noises. No one listened to the fuzz, the seashore-whispers that filtered through the city’s complex strata of aethers. Cats yowled in cobblestone alleys. Elsewhere, dogs barked territorial warnings to random pedestrians and ruffian-scruff boys looking for slumber in friendly doorways—where the light wasn’t too bright, where the constables were lax in their rounds.
The city, as always, washed over Hadley as she breathed the soot of controlled combustion into his lungs. With deft fingers, he plucked earphones from the control-board face and placed their cushioned speakers over each ear. He adjusted them, and then sat (for a moment, two moments, three…) enjoying the mentholated smoke.
Three floors below, his landlady slept.
Pigeons roosted in ramshackle nests, their drops on his windowsill like globs of impure paint.
The pigeons and the landlady meant nothing now. His mind, becalmed by smoke and mint-vapor, was ready to sift through the night’s fuzz. He’d marked tonight on his calendar: he knew what to wait for, what atonal siren-songs might waft like divine discordance through the flesh-canals of his ears.
There were others like Henley, around the city, around the world. They sat—as Henley sat—before control boards green with indicator dials and back-lit knobs. They sat in their rooms, their studios, their makeshift shacks, listening. And as the seconds stacked into minutes, into hours, the city’s night stood in lightless anticipation of Jupiter’s voice siphoned through makeshift/modified radios. And somewhere behind Jupiter’s noise, and the noise of Saturn, Hadley expected to hear strains of the quieter—though no less compelling red shift rhumba.
***
This is one of those strange little stories that popped out of an impression I had of a faux-antique radio owned by someone both Corey and I know. I like antiques, if they’re interesting, but temporal nostalgia isn’t something that I’m prone to express. As I found myself looking at the faux-wood finish of the faux-antique radio, I imagined what Corey’s and my mutual acquaintance would think if I told him that his radio was capable of picking up transmissions from Out There. I don’t get the impression he’d be much interested. That out there kind of stuff doesn’t appeal to him. Fair enough, but still, his radio that harkens back to another age made me think of those whale and popcorn noises you can occasionally pick up, if you tune your local radios to the right “dead air” station. I’ve done it a few times, but all I heard was…well…white noise, and somewhere within it (at least in theory) the songs of Jupiter and Saturn (and other celestial bodies) beamed atonal fugues into the aether that were more intriguing that anything Lady Gaga might wear, or sing—though admittedly, Lady Gaga can wear some pretty amazing things!
***
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting...It always means a whole heck of a lot, even when I *serious* need to catch up on commenting.
Comments (27)
micturn
As always, a great pic, and fascinating commentary.
mbz2662
As I have said before, I just so enjoy visiting your gallery and getting lost in one of your stories~
Madbat
Well...Lady Gaga is certainly cuter than an antique radio, but she has far less character. I remember the stuff you could pick up from them. My brother was an amateur Radio fan, and usually had the basement full of radios.
beachzz
Radios were for a very long time a huge part of my life. They still are, but not in the same ways. I used to babysit a lot, and always took my radio. I would sit and play with those dials,sometimes getting staions from the east coast (I lived in Arizona at the time). Wolfman Jack was around then, broadcasting with something like 50,000 watts from Mexico, and I'd always find him, too. So I completely understand your story. Sometimes I WOULD hear some strange sounds, but they'd freak me out, as would any odd noise outside. Just the way I was when I was 13 or 14--a bit jumpy about things that went bump in the night!! This is my very long winded way of telling you I love both your foto and our tale!!
KatesFriend
Intoxicating narrative as always. It brings back certain memories of sleepless humid nights in the northern reaches. There you can tune into the Elven-like music of the aurora.
Eresther
most excellent!!!
EricSBauer
Awesome! I love all things vintage and you captured this perfectly. Lighting and POV are outstanding. Excellent shot.
Roxam
Caution... enjoying this can be a hazard to quiting..."red shift rhumba"...
MrsLubner
I have an old wooden boxed radio sitting on my dresser. It has the old tubes in it and I often wonder what I'll do when I have to replace one. Yup, it still works. It's crackly and often fades off station, but there are times when I turn it on...just for old time's sake. This one belonged to my second husband's grandfather and has to be better than 60 years old. I last put replacement tubes in it back in the 70s and it wasn't so easy to find them then. :-)
blinkings
Great shot. The face makes me think of a watch face.
kwami
great radio, i love it
durleybeachbum
A super tale, and a nostalgia filled pic. You helped recall so clearly all those ethereal sounds, and a picture of my lovely Grandma listenening to a huge wooden boxed 'steam' radio with her finger wiggling in time to some music.
helanker
Deep fascinating words of yours. I see and hear it all before me. I love when you write like that. Awesome shot of the old radio :-)
dakotabluemoon
Very kwel shot of this old radio and i am amazed at all the knowledge u have on all this stuff and on all ur pics very good job.
flavia49
marvelous picture and wonderful text!!
MrsRatbag
Wonderful image and story!
watapki66
Great image of the radio! Wonderful story.
sandra46
I remember those radios in my uncles home, great image and fantastic story
myrrhluz
My favorite radio listening memories are from the early seventies, listening to WMMR out of Philadelphia and lying out in the sun. I did this a lot in the spring, to prepare for times at the Jersey shore, otherwise I would burn and blister. I would lie on a quilt, lost in the music and melodious, laid back voice of the DJ, and slowly toast. Bad for the skin but heavenly all the same. Excellent image and narrative! I remember looking through a telescope and being mesmerized by the sight of Saturn, knowing that I was seeing something so far away from me. To catch a fraction of its song, would dazzle me too. Wonderful capture of this feeling!
auntietk
I love the idea of being able to pick up strange and unusual things from an old radio. I'd always thought in terms of old jazz, but the music of the spheres is a wonderful thing to think of hearing! Love the story. Thanks for the trip!
kgb224
Superb capture and story line my friend.
Alex_Antonov
Wonderful!
blondeblurr
Everybody has an old radio story, including yours truly...long story! the end of it was, that I dated the DJ John A. from 3DB, Melbourne for two years. In some old war movies, you can still see occasionally some actor fiddling with those knobs and then all you can hear is those non-earthly squealing sounds in between, going from station to station, or trying to find the enemies where-abouts or trying to decipher some secret codes, almost like Morse. BB
AndreiR
beautiful object AND a picture work!
bmac62
Chip...I made it back. I'll probably be jumping around a lot and missing some, but the faux antique radio caught my eye and drew me into this story. I used to know several "ham operators" who did a lot of listening and a lot of talking before the internet began to diminish the use of radio among private individuals. I remember having access to a "Transoceanic Radio"...the kind that appeared to have 18 bands and a million tuneable stations. Remember analog? LOL. Anyway, back to your story...great descriptive words and sentences beautifully tailored to bring us into the overall atmosphere of this story. Well done!!!
zulaan
Reminds me Queen's song "Radio ga ga"
GARAGELAND
AMAZING SUBJECT & SPOT on post treatment