Aired Through The Docks Of The World
Socialising outside the Petro-Canada at quarter to one in the morning will reveal a lot about life to a person. Meanings that relate to existence, speak of relationships, burn enduring religious desires, shed light on world affairs, and help shape a devotion and love for the radio. This is my story of discovery.
After a lengthy discussion pertaining to the differences existing
between Provincial and Federal governments, Robert and I
decided to head back to my car. The topic of discussion then
began to transfer from the more superficial details of political
mechanics to the development of music over the past few
generations. We went from discussing the hard rock days of
the seventies, to the experimental and greatly diverse days of
the eighties, to the rebellious and grungy days of the early
nineties. We decided to carry over the talk with a quick scan of
the car radio to see what we could recognise, and what would
later surprise us. The radio had been good to me lately. Three
days earlier the radio dedicated an entire hour to the VU, and
on this day, Thursday, they were about to give one big fan boy
what he had been waiting to hear all day. It was earlier
revealed to me through television and friend that a new song
was being introduced to the world, a song I would very much
like to hear. I had ran to the local record store beforehand
in the hope that it would be holding a sample of this new
sound, but alas, it was not. I so far had ventured the entire
day with what a follower of great and immense talent, such as
myself, would have wanted - a taste of what was new.
Every radio station was hit, but nothing. Q107, some old,
undefined stuff; Mix 99.9, some new, undefined stuff. 102.1
The Edge, playing a song that featured a large, unavoidable
guitar rift, combined with a constant and precise play of the
percussion instrument, backed by exception bass skill. I was
about to ask for Robert to hand me my copy of Pure Cult:
The Singles: 1984 - 1995, when he asked me to go back to
the Edge for a second listen. Me, without thinking, and almost
automatically, did so. What was in store would make my day.
No, it would make my summer. The solid, almost God-like play
of instruments continued until a soft-spoken voice appeared. I
could not immediately make out the voice, but figured as it had
a lasting appeal, it would come to me later. I was again about
to ask for my compact disk to air when Robert made another
very bold and attention grabbing statement: ?Who is that?? he
asked. ?He sounds familiar. Is that, you know, that Irish
fellow?? Now ask around, I?m said to be quite the devotee to
these guys, so I was not about to let Robert go claiming this
was anything from the Irish Band without me knowing
first. We listened further, me now being a tad more interested
in the song?s origin, when a famous cry of unrelenting human
passion was let out. It jumped as if straight from the speakers
to our souls. I dropped everything, threw a smile on my face,
and looked straight at Robert. He in turn moved to face me and
proclaimed loudly in the dark, ?It?s Bon Jovi!?
It?s funny, the things you will discover outside a Petro-Canada so early in the morning: varying philosophies, differing political viewpoints, chosen alternative lifestyles, who your true friends really are, and with a look to the sky, or rather a scan of the radio, the coming of a great and unforgettable Electrical Storm.
August 29, 2002
- William Wilson
Socialising outside the Petro-Canada at quarter to one in the morning will reveal a lot about life to a person. Meanings that relate to existence, speak of relationships, burn enduring religious desires, shed light on world affairs, and help shape a devotion and love for the radio. This is my story of discovery.
After a lengthy discussion pertaining to the differences existing
between Provincial and Federal governments, Robert and I
decided to head back to my car. The topic of discussion then
began to transfer from the more superficial details of political
mechanics to the development of music over the past few
generations. We went from discussing the hard rock days of
the seventies, to the experimental and greatly diverse days of
the eighties, to the rebellious and grungy days of the early
nineties. We decided to carry over the talk with a quick scan of
the car radio to see what we could recognise, and what would
later surprise us. The radio had been good to me lately. Three
days earlier the radio dedicated an entire hour to the VU, and
on this day, Thursday, they were about to give one big fan boy
what he had been waiting to hear all day. It was earlier
revealed to me through television and friend that a new song
was being introduced to the world, a song I would very much
like to hear. I had ran to the local record store beforehand
in the hope that it would be holding a sample of this new
sound, but alas, it was not. I so far had ventured the entire
day with what a follower of great and immense talent, such as
myself, would have wanted - a taste of what was new.
Every radio station was hit, but nothing. Q107, some old,
undefined stuff; Mix 99.9, some new, undefined stuff. 102.1
The Edge, playing a song that featured a large, unavoidable
guitar rift, combined with a constant and precise play of the
percussion instrument, backed by exception bass skill. I was
about to ask for Robert to hand me my copy of Pure Cult:
The Singles: 1984 - 1995, when he asked me to go back to
the Edge for a second listen. Me, without thinking, and almost
automatically, did so. What was in store would make my day.
No, it would make my summer. The solid, almost God-like play
of instruments continued until a soft-spoken voice appeared. I
could not immediately make out the voice, but figured as it had
a lasting appeal, it would come to me later. I was again about
to ask for my compact disk to air when Robert made another
very bold and attention grabbing statement: ?Who is that?? he
asked. ?He sounds familiar. Is that, you know, that Irish
fellow?? Now ask around, I?m said to be quite the devotee to
these guys, so I was not about to let Robert go claiming this
was anything from the Irish Band without me knowing
first. We listened further, me now being a tad more interested
in the song?s origin, when a famous cry of unrelenting human
passion was let out. It jumped as if straight from the speakers
to our souls. I dropped everything, threw a smile on my face,
and looked straight at Robert. He in turn moved to face me and
proclaimed loudly in the dark, ?It?s Bon Jovi!?
It?s funny, the things you will discover outside a Petro-Canada so early in the morning: varying philosophies, differing political viewpoints, chosen alternative lifestyles, who your true friends really are, and with a look to the sky, or rather a scan of the radio, the coming of a great and unforgettable Electrical Storm.
August 29, 2002
- William Wilson
