Spring VOX 2010

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/spring-vox-2010 1/16

the VOX:WTUL: Free-form Community Radio since 1959

Winter/Spring 2010

A Publication of:

FREE

wtulneworleans.com

are you?

• WTUL Marathon Schedule and 24 Hour DJ Weekend• Is RIGHT WRONG? by Tom Connor• Interviews with Statutory Triangle and Fisher Cat• Jail Time: Written from Behind Bars by Karl Lootens

MARATHON ISSUE

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


SponsorsAndrew Bizer, Attorney at Law

The Mushroom

Skully’z Recordz

Contributors

Tom Connor

Deborah Dixon

Myrna L. Enamorado

Chris Holdgraf

Ray “Moose” Jackson

Karl Lootens

Brian Zeigler

Associate Editor Perrey Lee

Assistant Editor

Myrna L. Enamorado

Editor-in-Chief Kyle Barnett

PEOPLELetter from the General Manager

Fan Mail

(Cover Design by Myrna Enamorado.

Tells us what you think. Send comments to [email protected].

Corrections AddressOur featured poet lasst issue was creditedas Stacy Balkun, whereas it should havebeen Stacey Balkun. Sorry Stacey!

WTUL New Orleans, 91.5 FMTulane UniversityNew Orleans, LA 70118-5555Of ce: (504) 865-5885Studio: (504) [email protected]

Hey Loyal Listeners,

Its Patrick the GM again, introducing yourfavorite VOX periodical. As you may notice,this issue’s theme is “Time”. Aside from thecorny jokes (“it’s Time for you to donateto WTUL!”), the theme really is central towhats happening at the radio station youknow and love. We’re on the cusp of digitiz-ing our music, changing our programmingschedule, getting more involved in the

community, and getting ready for anotherexciting Marathon! I’ll keep this messageshort since I know its time (har har) for youto read the rest of the Vox. Sincerely,

Patrick TownsendGeneral ManagerWTUL New Orleans 91.5

I read the Vox today while at work. I felt oddly...reconnected to this city. WTUL is my favoritething about New Orleans; well, that and La DivinaGelateria’. This issue made me feel still isolatedand kind of fucked up, but I’m not the only onewho feels that way. So, maybe there’s hope, right?Whether it was feeling like almost 70 of the 83who were socially deleted- being rejected overand over again by people for whom I feel the

same way- or nearing a panic attack at the thoughtof someone more socially awkward than myself whom I almost want to meet but fear what that

encounter could turn into, I felt like the Vox wasreaching out to me. I’m not a target, not a de-mographic, not conspicuous enough for a label,but not so bland I can’t be sold. I’m just in mytwenties, looking for something to read for a shorttime, and maybe drink a cup of coffee. Thanks forbeing there. Thanks for being.

Much Love, Peace,Eliza T.

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Table of Contents1 – Letter from the General Manager and

Fan Mail - List of Contributors

3 – Merchandise Page (Please support us!)

4 – Letter from the Editor

“ Pheonix Rising” by Deborah Dixon

5 – “ Is Right Wrong?” by Tom Connor

6 – Interview with Statutory Triangle by Myrna L. Enamorado

7 – WTUL MARATHON SCHEDULE

8 – 24 Hour DJ Pro les

9 – Interview with Fisher Cat by Myrna L. Enamorado

10 – Spring 2010 Programming Schedule

11 – Beautiful Freak by Chris Holdgraf

14 – Hole (poem)by Myrna Enamorado

15 – Bitter Ink (cartoon)by Ray “Moose” Jackson & Brian Zeigler

Jail Time by Karl Lootens

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Contribution form:

Name: ____________________ Phone: ____________________

AMOUNT CONTRIBUTED:Address: ____________________

☐ $500 ☐ $250 ☐ $100 ☐ $50 ☐ $25____________________

Please send to: The VoxWTUL New Orleans 91.5 FM ☐ Other: ____________Tulane University Box 5069New Orleans, LA 70118

(donate at least $100 for this gift + marathon t-shit + compilation CD)

WTUL Old School Block Logo

White Logo on Blue T-shirt

(donate at least $50 to be eligible for this

gift + Compilation CD)

WTUL 2010 Marathon T-shirt (not as pictured)

(Donate at least $25 for this gift)

WTUL Songs from the Basement, Vol. 8 Compila-

tion CDOur annual local compilation CD

(donate at least $200 for this gift + old school blocklogo shirt + marathon t-shit + compilation CD)

WTUL Looking Back on 50 years Coffee Table Book Photos, stories, etc. collected from alum and current

WTUL staff compiled in full color 7x7 coffee table book

WTUL’s 2010 Special Gift CatalogWTUL New Oreans 91.5 FM is New Orleans’ only free-form non-commercial radio station. We’ve counted on you for 50 years to make donations.

Make a Donation to WTUL. Get a gift.

Your donation helps to keep WTUL going. The more you donate the more you receive.Get the total package of everything WTUL for only $200.

All orders over $50 will also receiveWTUL buttons and bottle openers

Or Donate online @ wtulneworleans.com

(donate at least $150 for this gift + old school blocklogo shirt + marathon t-shit + compilation CD)

WTUL Messenger Bag NEW!! Non-woven gray messenger bag w

ith headphone design

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Pheonix RisingA farewell by Deborah “Lady Iyann” DixonI lost a good friend today.

We’d never met. Yes, I am one of those weirdos that lives on online forums.Real-life people suck. Anyway, I happened to stumble upon one of these fo-

rums, a roleplaying one, late last May. I was totally new at roleplaying (yes,I am one of those weirdos too), and she helped me get acclimated, taught methe do’s and don’ts. Given that most people sink or swim at this, I thought itwas really sweet of her to take the time to do that.

Well, maybe I love too easily or she just has one of those lovable personali-ties, or more likely a combination of both, but I grew irreversibly attachedto her over the ensuing months, and I presume I earned at least her respect,because it takes an iron will to stick with someone like me for this long.

Anyway, a couple of months ago, she told us (me and our newly mutualfriends) that she had been diagnosed with a ridiculously rare form of cancer.The doctors gave her ve years. I actually told her not to grieve about veyears, because after all, ve years is a long time, and technology makes hugestrides in that long a period.

Of course, it hasn’t been ve years. As I write this, I still don’t entirely

understand what happened. I know chemo had been dealing her some seriousblows, but if I had really thought about it, maybe I would’ve created an op-portunity to say goodbye. But I didn’t, and after missing her, that’s what hurtsthe most. I’m trying to remind myself that she’s doing much better wherever

she is now- no pain, no need for oxygen or morphine. But, of course, I’msel sh enough to make this about me. I miss her so much.

The point of this bloggy essay thing is that none of us have the sort of timewe think we do. I once read an email that said, “Life is not short. Life is thelongest thing that can happen to you.” That’s true, but that doesn’t make lifelong. That doesn’t make sitting on a death sentence any better an idea. Thatdoesn’t give us the right to waste time, to watch if it away, to assume thatthe doctors are right. As my friend said, “The greatest gift any of you cangive me is the gift of living your lives to the fullest, of letting as much joy,

love and laughter into your lives, day in and day out, as possible given thecircumstances of the day. Be happy, enjoy your lives, not make the best of yourself, but what makes you the happiest.”

I’ll have to try that, though the world seems a little emptier of happinessthese days. Take care, my friend.

Letter from the Editor: Another Year Passesby Kyle Barnett

So here it is…time to ll a space. Ablank space. Like the VOX editorspace before I inhabited it. Like theuniverse before there was a universe.The unwritten page has so many pos-sibilities in comparison to the writtenone. But that doesn’t make emptinessa virtue.

So, don’t let your response to the con-tinual calls for donations to WTULbe a blank one. Just go to www.wtulneworleans.com and ll out theblank donation form. Don’t forget to

ll in the credit card info. In turn wewill send you some of the stuff onthe previous page. Cool stuff. Right?Plus you’ll just have the satisfactionof supporting the only relevant radiostation in New Orleans. To contact the editor

send an email to:

[email protected]

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Is Right Wrong?: Struggling with Mardi Gras Etiquette in a Hot New Orleans Summerby Tom Connor

I reached the second oor of the bar, and as was usual forthis time of night on a Saturday, it was packed. I paused at thetop of the stairs and scanned around for my friend, Leigh, andin the process I took in the whole scene. My lungs hated thesmoke, but the rest of me loved the place. Not only was it oneof the less pretentious bars on Magazine Street, it was also agreat place to drink when in warm weather. The prices couldhave been better, but I could forgive them for that.

I had only re ected on this for a moment when I saw thegroup I was there to meet, clustered as they usually werearound a table in the corner. I started walking over, windingand twisting around people as I went, but after about ten stepsI froze, my eyes locked on one of the girls standing with myfriend. The night had taken a turn.

Standing roughly ve-ten (plus heels) she was hard to missto begin with, and her curly hair, made gigantic by the Augusthumidity, only increased her visibility. Still, even without those

markers, my eerily-good memory for faces had set off therst alarm and I brie y considered a full retreat to avoid theawkwardness that was sure to come. As I weighed my options,I reviewed the case in my head.

I had rst met the girl that stood before me, a friend of anotherfriend, several years prior, at one of the uptown parades duringMardi Gras. I should clarify that I use the term “met” loosely;what actually happened was that I happened to be looking inthe right direction as, beset with a drunken bloodlust for beads,she pulled the left side of her shirt and bra halfway to the bo t-tom of her ribcage, exposing a part of her anatomy I’d normallyhave to pay for dinner to have access to. Not that I was com-plaining - at the time I was pretty happy with the situation andmentally high- ved myself in celebration, then went on withmy night and forgot about it.

It was the following weeks and months took the situation intothe weird category. As it turned out, this particular asher wasnot only a Tulane student, but apparently had the superpower of booking all of her classes in the same buildings and at the sametimes as mine. I was literally seeing her four and ve times aweek, and it began to feel like I was being haunted by the ghostof titty past. The strangest part was that the more I saw heraround, the more I began to feel guilty. At the time I couldn’texplain it, but it ampli ed a small amount every time I passedher in a hall, even though I was about 99% sure she had no ideawho I was. It was the type of quietly nagging shame that comesfrom getting away with something, like cheating on a test andthen setting the curve. I couldn’t understand why, but the wholething was bothering me.

Then one day, out of nowhere, it came to me. I didn’t feel badabout the ash itself, but rather I felt incredibly awkward thatthere had been zero acknowledgement of the situation on mypart, so the whole thing felt like a secret I had to avoid bringingup. To make matters worse, I had also failed to hold up my endof the showing-your-tits-contract, which dictated that I give hersome beads, and in some ways that made the situation worse.

Before me was an etiquette problem unique to New Orleans:what, if anything, should you do when you’ve seen the breast

(not both, just the one) of someone loosely connected to yoursocial circle and did not provide the requisite beads, if thatperson has no idea who you are or that you have that kind of knowledge?

I was sure this had to be something others had experienced, orat least that’s what I started telling myself in an attempt to maskthe fact that I was vastly over-thinking the issue. Still, seeingas how New Orleans, and Uptown in particular, is such a smallcommunity that you’re bound to run into the same person againand again to begin with, it did make sense that there should bea right and wrong way to handle this kind of thing. I felt betterhaving nally been able to put my nger on what was bother -

ing me, but I wanted to rectify the situation as gracefully aspossible.

The normal remedy would have been to clear the air, or inthis case bring it up to the girl and repay the beads, but I wouldhave to make sure to do so in as casual and un-creepy a wayas possible. Maybe lead with a compliment? I pictured myself walking up to her one day, maybe on a quiet Sunday afternoon,and introducing myself. “Hi, my name is Tom. I saw your leftboob last Mardi Gras, and I just thought I’d let you know Ithought it was top notch. Oh, I also owe you this,” I’d say, andas I produced a string of beads from my pocket I’d continue,“anyway, so, what’s that, Faulkner you’re reading there?”

It was a decent plan, except that even in my head it usu-ally ended with me attempting to explain social niceties to auniformed police of cer, so I decided that probably wouldn’t bethe best approach. Facebook, with its lack of any actual interac-tion, was an even worse option, and stymied at an impasse I

decided to simply do nothing and pretend it hadn’t happened.Sure, I was bucking tradition and still hiding what I knew, butI was also avoiding a restraining order, and that outweighedall other considerations. Over time I fell into a habit of justavoiding eye contact, and after some time I stopped seeing heraltogether. In a triumph that would give hope to sloths every-where, lack of action had solved my problem.

That was all undone that Saturday night, standing there inthat smoky, crowded bar, looking at that same girl standingthere talking to my friend. To make matters worse, since I wasalready a little drunk, I didn’t fully trust myself to handle thesituation without saying something stupid, so I decided to exitas quietly as possible. As my leg muscles began to shuf e myfeet backward , my friend Leigh saw me and started to waveme over. With retreat impossible, I brushed my hair off of myforehead and started walking over with a casual smile on myface. The issue had been forced.

Or so I thought, as fate decided to go easy on me. As it turnedout, the girl I was ready to run screaming from the room toavoid was so completely plastered that she could barely stand,and was largely being baby-sat by the others around her.Conversation seemed as if it would have been a miracle sincestanding up straight seemed to be enough of a challenge, so Idecided to play it cool. We stood facing perpendicular direc-tions, and two red-bull-and-vodkas later, I had reinstituted mystrategy of ignore and evade, but the humor of the situation wastoo delicious not to bring up.

Once I was sure the girl behind me wasn’t listening, I leanedin close to Leigh and told the story, in its entirety, directly intoher ear, as quietly as possible. I was about halfway throughwhen I started to realize again how strange I sounded for hav-ing paid as much attention as I had to the whole thing, but afterI nished Leigh looked at me, looked at her friend, and startedlaughing. I took the fact that a well-adjusted adult female alsofound it funny as a good sign.

“So, what are you going to do?” Leigh asked me.“I don’t know, I’m not really sure how to bring it up. Probably

nothing.” I took a sip of my drink and had an idea: “Maybe

ask her to see the right one? It seems like such a shame to onlyhave half the collection.”We laughed together and I was reminded of why I love hav-

ing Leigh as a friend – as someone who could be a little weirdherself, she always seems not just to understand, but to appreci-ate odd situations, which I tend to have an abundance of. Heradvice isn’t always sage, but it is always practical: “Yeah, if you had the full set, the eBay value would probably go up,” shereplied.

Out of curiosity, I asked Leigh what the girl’s name was, andfound out it was Amanda, which I thought was disappointinglycommon. After all that buildup I had been hoping for a Dagmar

or Hildegard, but hey, you can’t have everything. As I stoodthere with the fact that, by some de nitions, the name wasthe second most personal piece of information I knew aboutthis person, I felt a bump on my shoulder and turned around.Amanda and her half of the table were heading off to anotherbar and were saying their goodbyes.

With blood full of liquid courage and taurine, I saw an op-portunity and decided to break the ice once and for all. Review-ing my previous options, from completing the collection toexpressing aesthetic appreciation to simply upholding tradition,I decided to again utilize my original strategy and pretend thewhole thing never happened.

“Did we meet?” Amanda asked as if seeing me for the rsttime, and I could tell right away she was even drunker than Ithought she was. Either her eyes weren’t focusing on me, oreach had suddenly become interested in a d ifferent one of myears.

“We actually met before, awhile ago,” I said, grabbing her armto steady her as she started to list dangerously to one side.“We have, where?” she asked, steadying herself and squinting

right at me.“Well, like I said, it was awhile ago. Sorry, I’ve got a weird

memory for faces,” I said, and continued on to name our othermutual friend, but I decided to leave it at that. After a moment’sconversation, it turned out neither of us really talked to thatparticular person anymore, though we were both pretty surethat she still lived in New Orleans. These realizations togetheramounted to a set of facts that neither Amanda nor I foundparticularly interesting, and when her friends were ready to go,so was she.

“Well, we’re leaving now,” Amanda said, swaying toward herfriends, “nice to have… met you… again.” She blinked at me,then turned around and walked away with short, choppy steps.

“You too,” I said to the back of her head, and turned backaround. Years in the making, the conversation was short,pointless, and entirely uninteresting, the type that is replicatedmillions of times every day by those waiting for their friendsto nd their purses and close their tabs before moving on to thenext venue. Still, I was grateful for the anticlimax, and for thefact that I had nally broken ice that only I was aware of andonly I even cared about. Having a personal piece of informa-tion about Amanda had created a very strange and involuntaryintimacy, and I was happy to have mentally dismissed it. Tohave done so without being arrested made me pretty proud of myself, and I ordered another round.As I leaned against the table playing with the ice in my drink,

I was suddenly sure that though I probably wasn’t the rst per -son to have been in a situation like that, I was almost certainlythe rst to have put that much effort into it. I took a sip, lookedaround, and realized that I had answered my original question(the correct answer was to do nothing), but I was troubled bythe implications that it carried. To do nothing meant that sim-ply ignoring a ash would release one from any expectation,including throwing beads, and I realized that my trek had leadme to a conclusion that could tear at the heart of Mardi Gras

itself. I pictured legions of beadless women and disinterestedmen wandering aimlessly around Bourbon Street like zombies,while frightened and confused police stood dumbstruck andcalled for backup. It was a terrible reality, one that I didn’t wantto live in, and I was at a loss for a way out.

Of course, it was equally possible that I had learned nothing,was overthinking again, and would be in another situation likeit before too long. Either way. I took another sip of my drink,mentally high- ved myself in celebration, then went on withmy night and forgot about it.

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


ME - So I saw you at your debut show at the Spell-caster and you made quite an entrance. There wasfog everywhere and you came down from the ceiling

while the papparazzi took pictures with big mechani-cal lenses.Did you feel that something historic was happeninglike you were being born?

Stevie - I felt like drinking a tall glass of milk.Rhodes - Yeah, i felt like i was dropping out of Lady Gaga’s birth canal.

ME - Do you ever get fazed by fame?

Stevie - I’m famous? That’s news to me...I paid mywater bill in change last month.Rhodes - Yeah but then i just leave the6 block radius of the bywater wherenobody knows who i am.

ME - How far would you go to protectyour privacy?

Stevie - Pretty fucking far.Rhodes - Missouri.

ME - Today is your 83rd birthday andyou are still going strong.Can you share some words of wisdomwith your audience that looks up toyou with blood smeared eyes?

Stevie - Be on time…punctuality is ev-erything. Strive for perfection. Less ismore. Also, if you have ‘blood smeared

eyes,’ you aren’t getting enough iron. Eat a couplehandfuls of raw spinach.

ME - You’re such a newband and you already gotsigned. Can you tell us how that happened?What are the bene ts to being on a label as opposedto self releasingyour music?

Stevie - We’re not signed. People like Neil Youngare signed and have 5 year contracts and that sort of thing. Have you ever heard the story about how hefucked over Warner Brothers by making a Rocka-billy and Electronica album in the Eighties? Puregenius. I think somebody is putting out our record inthe future, quite possibly very soon.

Rhodes - It happened because of the aforementionedbirth canal show. There are no real bene ts. Justmake weird music that will appeal to Austrians.

ME - You changed your name from Statutory Tri-angle to StatutoryPancake. Is that a reference to Voodoo?

Stevie - We changed our name to Statutory Pancake?That’s also news to me. We are changing our name,but haven’t settled on anything yet. Everything is areference to Voodoo.Rhodes - No it’s a reference to breakfast.

ME - Are you religious or just suicidal?

Stevie - Yes, I’m suicidal...somebody get me a shot-gun and I’ll blow my fucking brains out for the me-

dia to lap up like a sick dog. Isn’t everybody suicidalat some point? Bottom line is this: if today I feel like

jumping off a cliff, tomorrow I’ll be sitting in the lapof God. That’s life. I sold my religion on Ebay.

Clark - Those two things have nothing to do witheach other unless you’re Dostoevsky.Rhodes - Why does it have to be one or the other?

ME - What music did you listen to in 2009?

Stevie- Kap Bambino. French ‘electro’ band I’mquite fond of. I saw them in Chicago with Magasand my friends, Lazer Crystal...totally psychotic...Bad Party--from Detroit, MI. CHECK OUT all thesebands, they are the shit. Other than that, modernmusic is quite dull. That King Khan show was a hootthough. Ever drink liquor out of a purse? I did thatnight. I listen to A LOT of talk radio, speci cally Ra -dio for the Blind…88.3 FM, WRBH. And of course,the Gun Club. The lead singer died in 1996. Theyare my favorite band of all time.

Rhodes - Devo, Magas, and Juvenile.

ME - What is the best thing that happened to you in

the last decade?Stevie - Let’s see…trashing posh hotels in the CBDwith aging celebrities, dining at Red Lobster, andVoodoo Fest 2006...I can’t elaborate upon that one.Sorry.Rhodes - Graduated High School, ‘09. Katrina.Discovered pharmaceuticals. I got a furby one year. Idon’t know, a lot of great stuff happened, its hard topin point just one.

ME - Geographically speaking your identity is verytied to the South and New Orleans speci cally. Do

you feel mystically tied to this place?

Stevie - No, no, no. I don’t feel attached toany particular place, save for Michigan orChicago (in a fucked up way), much less‘mystically tied’....but yes, I am partial tothe South.Rhodes - Yeah, I feel pretty “mystic”. I re-cently discovered how hard it is to live any-where that drinking in the street is illegal.I lived in Missouri for a year and had anidentity crisis. I don’t want to be in a placethat doesnt have drive thru daiquiri stands.So yeah, I always end up being pulled backinto the swamp.

ME - What about your environment hasshaped your music?

Stevie - Poor nutrition, abject poverty, corrupt politi-cians, tourism, fashion that fell straight out of theearly Nineties, inclement weather, violence, vio-lent hippies, funky Jazz, re, rampant drug abuse,the lack of any truly good record stores, marchingbands, Elysian Fields, and Mardi Gras. Need I saymore?Rhodes - Its the jazz. What is in the future for Statu-tory Triangle?Stevie - The cover of Rolling Stone.Rhodes - Don’t know about that one you’ll just haveto wait and see.

ME - Are you gonna live forever?

Stevie - Of course!Rhodes - With all the recent medical breakthroughsI feel like I might truly be part of the generation thatstops aging after 27. So yes, I will live forever, un-less I get cancer.

Interview with Statutory Triangle by Myrna Enamorado

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


WTUL 2010 Marathon Schedule

March 12-14; Foburg Fest WTUL co-sponsors the rst Foburg Festival with NOIR Col -lective with WTUL sponsored shows are at La Maison at 10pmeach night:

Friday, March 12 – Blue Party, Gamma Ringo, New GrassCountry Club and Wazozo.

Saturday, March 13 – MyNameIsJohnMichael, Sun Hotel,

Reno Bo and Booty Trove. Closing out the Frenchmen Streetfestival on

Sunday, March 14 – Silent Cinema, Dr. Manhattan, ChrisRehm, Oso Closo and Meg Roussell.

March 18; Rocco’s (11pm)

–Throbbing Thursdays (18+ show) WTUL DJs spin live at Rocco’s on Maple St. from11pm-close.

March 19-22; 24 Hour DJs

(See pro les on page opposite.)

Come to Pocket Park, nestled in between the Lavin-BernickCenter and McAllister Auditorium, where three DJs will post 24hour live-sets back-to-back and will be asking non-stop, over theair and to passersby, for donations for WTUL.

Please come out and support them..

March 19; Flying DutchmanCo-hosting night of entertainment with New Orleans Opera As-sociation at the Flying Dutchman.

March 20; One Eyed Jack’s –

QUINTRON Ballzack and Oddoms and Madd Wikkid open for Quintron andMiss Pussycat.

March 20; Pocket Park– 2nd Annual Vinyl Fair – 10am-5pm Ballzack and Oddoms and Madd Wikkid open for Quintron andMiss Pussycat.

March 22; Rocco’s (11pm) –Throbbing Thursdays

(18+ show) WTUL DJs spin live at Rocco’s on Maple St. from11pm-close.

March 27; Whiskey Dix –Songs from the Basement Vol. 8 CD Release Party – We Landed on the Moon, Jak

Locke, Sick Like SinatraRelease party for WTUL’s annual compilation CD featuring lo-cal artists. To procure this CD just ip back a couple of pagesand send in the form with $25 or go to wtul.fm to donate.

Or...just show up to the party. Whiskey Dix (1753 Saint CharlesAvenue b/w felicity and polymnia)

. March 28; Maple Leaf (5pm) –HootenannyThe Howdies, Luke Winslow King, The High Ground Drifters.

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


WTUL Marathon 24 Hour DJ ScheduleYour 24 HOUR DJSEach year in an attempt to raise funds for the station three WTUL DJs are elected

by popular vote to serve as WTUL’s sole on-air representatives 24 hours straight.24-hour shifts begin Friday March 19 at noon with Rachel Wenzel. Listen at 91.5FM or on our webstrem at wtulneworleans.com.

Friday, March 19 –Saturday, March 20 DJ: Rachel Wenzel, WTUL Assistant General Manager

Years on WTUL: 4 years

Favorite Bands/Musicians: So manyfavorites. I do the Americana Show.I also love Sleater-Kinney, SufjanStevens, Bound Stems, Tegan andSara and DirtyProjectors. Plus so many more.

Most Hated Band/Musician: Thereis no music I hate, but I really don’tunderstand jazz or Britney Spears.

Hobbies: I love to travel and want tosee the world. I dance like a fool. Ialso like to try all kinds of arts and

crafts, but I always seem tostart a project and can’t seem to nish it. I nished knitting ascarf once, that was a nice feeling. I enjoy chasing boys in plaid shirts. . . . withbeards.

Saturday, March 20 – Sunday, March 21DJ: Da D-Train

Years on WTUL: 4 years

Favorite Bands/Musicians: A Tribe Called Quest, IggyPop and/or The Stooges, Lou Reed, and Outkast.

Most Hated Band/Musician:NICKELBACK, EMOGENRE, AND JAMES TAYLOR

Other Hobbies: Finding great tracks, Checking out livemusic, eating slimjims, making fun of hipsters..........,rooting for the FloridaMarlins, cooking up some mean ass garlic fries!

Quote: “The person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused.” ----- Shirley MacLaine

Sunday, March 21 – Monday, March 22DJ NAME: Hunter King; Program Director

Favorite Band/Musi-cian: It’s probablyBo Diddley

Most Hated band/Musician: oh jeez,I don’t know. I’vealways wanted toturn NOFX off whenI hear it. CountingCrows kind of hurtstoo.

Other Hobbies: I gotin a shouting matchabout the how the

ipod touch’s solidstate hard drive has no effect on sound quality at a high-end audio store yester-day. I want to do that again.

CALL THE DJsTO DONATE @

504-865-5885or [email protected]

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Interview with Fisher Cat by Myrna Enamorado Fisher Cat invited me to their practice space beforethe big books to prisoners bene t show at AllwayzLounge and we had a little conversation…..it fol-lowed as goes…..

ME - If you could ride on the back of an animalwhat animal would you ride on?

Perry - A Fisher cat. Probably a whale because itis so big and powerful and benevolent and it wouldprobably just be rad.Jackson - I don’t know.I would be into a slothpossibly because they

don’t move very fast soit wouldn’t bother youin doing what you’rewanting to do in yourtime because sometimesyou don’t want to beriding on the back of ananimal.Perry - Well in thiscase you do. A cheetahthat is the fastest.Jackson - Antelopecause they jump reallygood too

ME - What is yourfavorite movie?

Perry - Tampopo is aJapanese movie that isreally good and it’s all

about ramen. And theBattle of Algiers is alsoa really good movieabout the Algerian revo-lution. It’s brutal.Jackson - I like DirtyWork with Norm Mc-Donald and Chris Farley.

ME - What do you think of the New Orleans musicscene?

Nathan - I think that there are many scenes includ-ing but not limited to what you might call the nativemusic scene, which also coincides with the touristmusic scene, but not entirely cause you got your sec-ond lines on the one hand and you got your Frenchmarket bourbon street voodoo zydeco jambalaya onthe other hand.Perry - And there is an indie rock scene.

Nathan- Which is the most publicized because indierockers control the alternative media.And then there is a drunk punk scene which is prettycrusty which mostly hangs out in the 9th ward andthe bywater.Perry- And there is a Bro metal scene which hangsout in the hiho.Jackson - A nd the Saturn barPerry - And it all comes together sometimes ininteresting ways.

ME - Do you ascribe to one of those scenes?Nathan - We try to do our own thingIt’s hard to say what the music scene is like becauseit is so varied and so fragmented.But mostly we try to avoid playing bars becausethey are kind of boring sometimes, but we will playa bar we’re not dogmaticPerry - Or snobby.Nathan - But mostly we just play generator showsin abandoned buildings.Jackson - And that’s more fun because you havemore control of what you are doing.

Perry - It’s like a whole like a whole experienceit’s not just like a show at a bar or at a venue it’s anevent.Jackson - And you don’t have to have some spe-ci c draw because the idea is not to make money.The ideas is to have a good time If people come anddon’t pay it’s not an issue.Normally you don’t pay at all. So it’s just for fun.Perry - There was the one show that home boy puton and everybody got sick afterwards

Jackson - Every-body was inhal-ing toxic fumes.Nathan - “It

was one the bestnights of my lifePerry - Yeah to-tally. There werecandles and a gi-ant spray paintedbird.Nathan - Theyspent like amonth or twomonths justpainting andclearing out thiswarehouse forthis show.Jackson - Yeahit was beautiful.Perry - It was somuch more thana show it was ahappening

ME - Do youhate porcupines?Jackson - Nowe don’t hateporcupines they

just happen topbe one of the sher cats natural prey. Prey doesn’tnecessarily entail hatred.Perry - We eat porcupines.Nathan - We happen to be the only thing visciousenough to take on a porcupine.We are hard-wired to jump out of a tree and ip itover and disembowel it.

ME - Do you have any rituals before you performlive?Perry - Jackson smokes a lot of pot. We are all re-ally stressed out and something breaks.

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/spring-vox-2010 11/16You can see this issue of the VOX and past issues on our website at wtul.fm

WTUL SPRING SCHEDULE 2010

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Beautiful Freak: New Orleans City Park by Chris Holdgraf

Beautiful FreakIn terms of dollars and cents, New Orleans’ City

Park is expendable. It is not essential to the streets andhouses that skirt its boundaries. The Park’s borders aren’tcharacterized by towering walls inscribed with the names

of multitudinous companies and benefactors that con-tribute to its commercial success. It isn’t a giant revenuemachine, nor a tourist trap that will bring in customersfrom all over the world. To someone who would judgethe prosperity of a city by the amount of cash it is able togenerate, City Park isn’t much of anything, really. Andyet, to anyone who’s seen its expansive territory, this gi-ant plot of land elicits a strange compulsion to ensure itsfuture, to fortify a prosperous and generously long life forits green and oftentimes chaotictenants. The Park stands fora commitment to somethingthat has deliberately avoidedthe “progressive” and lucra-tive path towards tourism andmodernity that the rest of thecity has adopted.

The heart of City Parkfeels like making your waythrough a battle between twodistinct enemies. The crisp,clean, well-groomed beautyof the face of City Park versus

the aberrant vibrancy of anunchecked Southern wilder-ness. The casualties of thiscontinuous struggle can be seenall over the park – one-timepicnic areas are now overrunwith weeds and vines, restingareas have been distorted andunevenly thrust towards thesky by the constantly shift-ing Louisiana soil, buildingsshow their age prematurelyas they continue to ght backthe encroachment of creepingvines and steadfast roots. Forinstance, City Park BotanicalGardens was constructed in the1930s as one step in a multi-faceted approach to beau-tify City Park and create much-needed jobs, the Botani-cal Gardens initially served as a testament to the city’sability to keep the overgrowth of nature to a minimum.Straight and narrow paths were lined from one end toanother, blotches of trees and shrubbery were con ned

to the garden’s exterior, even natural water formationswere harnessed into a pristine rectangular pond, under-scoring the ordered logic of the new gardens. However,such picturesque formality was naive in its ambition tochange the Southern Louisiana natural landscape. Now,it is dif cult to tell which areas of the park are for peopleand which are for wildlife. Park benches swell with theextra pressure of vines and owers creeping through theirwrought-iron sides, stone man-made ponds show the wearof being subject to countless oodings over the years(commonplace for a city located in nature’s equivalent of

a cereal bowl), even walking paths have swelled and burstopen to reveal steadfast roots of mighty southern oaks.Such reclamations possess an eerily powerful beauty andreminds us that if we think we can do whatever we pleasewithout a thought for what we have displaced, we’d better

think again.One begins to question whether this plot of landis really City Park, or if it’s actually the Park’s City, asprawling landscape that surpasses the gray in a de anttestament to the once natural landscape of New Orleans.A half day’s work of fty people may result in a barely-recognizable alteration of the land, and as if such indis-cernible progress wasn’t enough to deter the ambition of the workers’ daily grooming and upkeep, it is an altera-

tion that will be lost to the growth of plantlife in just afew weeks. This imbalance of power is disconcerting tohumans (and certainly to a city planner). We’re supposedto be dominant. We’ve got the concrete, chisels, chain-saws, trucks. Hell, we’ve even got dynamite, but we ndourselves in a stalemate with the ora and fauna of City

Park. Why not just end this everlasting battle in one fellswoop and be through with it? Such questions constituteanother battle that is going on in the communal mind, inlawbooks, and in business contracts. It’s a simple ques-tion. Why not just raze City Park, clear off the land, andbuild a nice combination of housing and business, create

jobs, encourage commerce? Sounds great, sounds likeprogress, but then you stop and a little voice in the backof your head quietly protests. Look at the magni cent andfragile creature with which you are dealing.

City Park is the perfect place to enjoy your day

as you see t. Within its vast boundaries lies a plethora of lush green and thriving wildlife that serve as an hom-age to the muggy swamps and snaking bayous that oncecovered all of Southern Louisiana. With wide-open eldsof thick grass, perfect for an afternoon football game

or a family picnic, the park seems to invite everyone tocome and enjoy the natural beauty it has to offer. Passingthrough the grandiose front driveway lined on either sidewith newly-planted saplings and ending in the famousNew Orleans Museum of Art, the front drive immediatelybranches into a multitude of possibilities. Take a left tothe tennis complex, the single largest group of publiccourts in the city and host to events and training for bothinexperienced and seasoned players. Take a right, and you

wander into a cleared eld thatdoubles as a cross-countrycircuit and on to the green-house dedicated to growingplants for distribution to NewOrleans schools and otherlocations that don’t have thegreen participation that CityPark enjoys. These examplesare only a small sampling of what is available, plenty moreopportunities for leisure andutility can be found in theseareas near the most accessible

southern edge. However, if you’re looking for somethingmore adventurous, more ambi-tious, more “wild,” venturestraight ahead into the heart of City Park.

Making one’s way Norththrough the inner core of thepark, one can walk the wind-ing hiking trails through denseforest, search for unique anddazzling insects and animalsnative to the park’s grounds,relax by one of the serenelagoons skirted by stretchingbushes and creeping vines,even bring the binoculars and

scout out what is still called “the best birding spot in NewOrleans.” All of this doesn’t come close to uncovering thevibrant life to which the park serves as home. The mas-sive expanse of land is riddled with beautiful explosionsof sprawling southern live oaks that serve as a symbolfor New Orleans and its dazzlingly erratic beauty. Reach-

ing far past the base of their sturdy brown trunks, theirbranches dart to and fro, zigzagging along the groundas if on a mission to explore, to seek out an unattainablegoal that is forever destined to lie just outside of the tree’sperimeter.

For those that wish to get to know the city of New Orleans without being required to give anythingin exchange, City Park offers a beautiful alternative tothe frenzied consumerism of the New Orleans you seein tourist brochures. Hidden away in the back alleys andshadowy doorways of our disheveled city streets lies a

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


side of the city that exhibits a different personality thanthat of the national icon that is “The Big Easy.” It is aface borne out of the collective realization that often-times the only people you have to count on are those whosuffer the same slings and arrows that life in a city that’ssupposed to be submerged will throw at you. It is nota dependency on business or industry, but on the kind-ness of strangers, on those who are situated right next toyou. This mutual reliance is seen in the openness of CityPark’s borders and its continued insistence on being apublic good that is offered, without charge, to the entirecity of New Orleans. Maybe there really is no such thingas a “free lunch,” but City Park can certainly provide afantastic location to enjoy it.

Constructed during the depression as a part of theWorks Progress Administration (WPA) project’s attemptsto curb unemployment and a plummeting economy, CityPark was constructed with the New Orleans’ citizen inmind. Serving as a point of convergence at the intersec-tion of several disparate neighbor-

hoods, it is impossible to say thepark belongs to any one neighbor-hood. It rests as a kind of anchorbetween a panoply of communitiesthat range from the ornate splendorof Esplanade Avenue to homes thatare marked with the destitutionand decay of poverty. Existing as acommonality that draws all of MidCity together, the park gives off thefeeling that it is not the propertyof one neighborhood or one groupof people, and that it has no ownerunless that owner is all of NewOrleans.

The wide-open nature of city park creates a mixmatch of economic, cultural, and ethnicbackgrounds. As a city that pridesitself on its blend of Cajun, French,Spanish, and African culture, thedaily interaction of people fromcompletely different backgrounds

is an integral part of life in NewOrleans. Littered amongst thetowering mansions of uptown’sfanciest districts lie the dilapidated,run down remnants of public hous-ing projects and low-income homes. Passing throughthe busy night air of the French Quarter oats the smellsand sounds of the blues, jazz, reggae, salsa, even punkculture, all existing side by side. Just as these culturesmeet and play off of one another in the dazzling lightsof the quarter and Frenchman street, the open groundsof City Park allow a place where all walks of life comeand enjoy all it has to offer. This combination of diversebackgrounds serves not only to humanize those whomwe see less often than we should, but also to foster thefeeling of unity among the patrons of City Park. Regal-ing in the lush grandeur of the majestic southern oaks,peacefully relaxing by the serene lagoons, stewing gumboin the warm fall air, such experiences at City Park are notsimply enjoyable, but also represent dispelling the differ-ences of your income or your family name or your neigh-borhood and feeling, above all else, a New Orleanian.

With all of the bene t that makes the park open,it also shoulders a heavy burden. The park’s position inthe public sphere brings with it both the good and thebad of collective ownership. Just as it does not cater toany one particular type of individual, City Park does nothave an overreaching protector to ensure its success. In-stead, the longevity of the land and its services is whollydependent on the public’s ability to see to its upkeep andprovide support wherever possible. Maintenance such asgroundskeeping and planting of trees is largely depen-dent on volunteerism and philanthropy, and the continuedexistence of its many events relies on fund-raising effortsand pledge drives such as the annual “Celebration in theOaks,” a month-long festival in which the park shedsits green and brown exterior for the white and red of Christmas decorations and holiday spirit. Although oftenresulting in an abundance of creativity that is seen in suchfestive events, such a precarious balance between survivaland accessibility gives the park a vulnerability that is

often glossed over by the city. In this delicate position, itpossesses a gritty beauty and unique ability to exist in anational culture that places so much emphasis on payingfor what you get. Unfortunately, this also brings with itthe weakness of dependence on a populace that undoubt-edly has signi cant problems of its own.

Such is the ultimate problem with which CityPark is confronted. Our city is riddled with increasingcrime, extreme poverty, and a continuous cleanup act.What is the place of freely accessible, but ultimately un-necessary entities like City Park? There are many per-spectives to take when considering City Park’s usefulnessto the community and to New Orleans at large. Shouldit be an untended wilderness? A corporate village? Anidyllic theme-park? Such questions permeate the debatesurrounding City Park’s uncertain future. However, onesimple fact cannot be forgotten: regardless of the Park’s

usefulness, current condition, faults, or frailties, it is still,at its core, a vital organ of New Orleans.

One comes away from City Park with an urge togo out and celebrate what it means to be beautiful, use-ful, meaningful. It stands as a challenge to the generallyaccepted notion that nature is a nuisance to be put in itsplace while the rigid lines of concrete and metal are whatreally connotes “progress.” After getting to know CityPark’s delights as well as its shortcomings, after learn-ing what it means to ght a battle that you cannot everhope to fully win, one cannot help but feel humbled intheir previously uninformed assumptions about man’splace with nature. It is not above or below (or barrelingthrough), but at its side, bumping shoulders, stepping onone another’s foot without retaliating, but playfully smil-ing and returning in kind. It is a special type of oddballpairing you might make a sitcom out of and also beautifuland infallible and even humorous at times. Possessing thepower to sway our hearts as well as our minds, the combi-

nation stands as a testament

to our roots in this earth.Unfortunately it is alsoeeting, vulnerable, and

utterly dependent on man’sability to loosen up thetightly-packed walls of itsinsular fortress and beginto allow natural chaos backin. Walking away fromCity Park’s interior thedire circumstances reallybecomes obvious – howclose we are to pushing ourgreen friends out to losingtheir salient presence in ourlives forever.

Nearing the edge of thepark requires a secondglance at the run-downnature of man’s once proudconstructions. Strangelyenough, it may begin tolook different. Not old

and dilapidated and use-less, but with a kind of subtle resilience to it, thatregardless of its ostensibleweaknesses and frailty,

it possesses a unique liveliness that speaks to the heartand the soul. This quiet vibrancy is nothing new, not aproduct of time or work, but simply the same view froma different perspective. To love City Park is to celebrate adifferent outlook on life from the activity of downtown orthe French Quarter, to rethink your priorities and to takepart in the intrinsically New Orleanian practice of seeingbeauty where it is least expected. Next time you are there,give it a try. Take a look at the still ponds now teemingwith insects and foliage, the overgrown and unkempt liveoaks showing their oddly natural kind of order, the scoresof land that could be used for a thousand different pro t-seeking ventures, but are instead dedicated to a celebra-tion of life and nature. Look at those mangled old stonebuildings and see the arms of vibrant green encircling thecrumbling stone walls in an embrace of partnership andnatural ux. You may feel the urge to smile.

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


The VOX is seeking contributions for the Summer/Spring issue , due out April2010. We publish submissions from aspiring writers and artists throughout the city, as well as frequent

contributions from WTUL staff and DJs. The VOX is looking for writing interesting enough to bememorable. Although we mainly serve as a conduit for relaying the voice of WTUL, anything works:misconnexions, show reviews, interviews, album reviews. And any other views including “My Best

MixCD,” photographs, feature articles, anecdotes, jokes, poems, short stories, creative non- ction, short plays, political and cultural satire, comics, photos, art slides, etc. Really anything that can be

viewed 2-D or smashed under the hood of a scanner or photocopier tomake it 2-D. Anyway, when you nd out what it is that you want to do send it to:

[email protected] .

Whole in my heartWhere my love leaksFloodingSuffocating meHe who would healThe shamenValentineSullenlyStaringWhile rapid cloudsSheathe to unclotheThe moonOver blue balconiesThis surreptitious stolen soireeWe held to the awningsGrasping at cat’s clawsYou like my titsYou like my assGrasping at cat’s clawsSwaying to wind pavementAlmost fallingSuccumbing to the streetSmashed smusshingOne wheel follows the othersShedding vitriolic spitOh honey.With snot dripping on my arm asWe roll overI taste your bloodBe with me in this silentPity shameO can never say it againI have cotton on my moth

Hole by Myrna Enamorado Words of Wisdom

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Why don’t you quit staring and buy an ad already?

contact us @ [email protected]

Bitter Ink by Ray “Moose” Jackson & Brian Zeigler

Jail Time by Karl Lootens

Bitter Ink is born of an aber-rant gene shared by two cousins,both exiled from Detroit. Onewent to the land of good gro-

ceries in Vermont and the otherto New Orleans. Mostly Briandraws the pictures, mails themto Moose and he comes up withthe goofy aphorisms. Exceptwhen they’re together, downingpints and passing notes back andforth and giggling like school-bus drivers on acid. A recent

compilation of Bitter Ink hasrecently been released by localpublisher Press Street. The bookcan be purchased on their web-site:

press-street.com

I learned from clever adver-tising that “Life is short, PlayHard.” I don’t know whetherit was Gatorade or Nike (anydifference), much less if a regis -tered trademark is needed. Thatway of thinking did well for meas is it in the Pettis County Jailin Sedalia, Missouri, soberingup, watching time stretch outbefore me.

I was always an angst-riddenkid; I always wanted a tattooon the top of my head that said

“I’m ready.” Thus informingthe dues es machina (slightly upand stage left) that I believed Iwas already weary of the timeI was spending on the earth.Through ecstasy, crystal meth,and glue I found no drug com-pares to you. I found that thiswas my daughter.

The elasticity of time is situ-ational. Drugs, drinking andwomen have worn me out andtook years of–off of my life. Ihave found the only reprieve

from the onslaught of timesunwavering progression wasthe open-eyed view of mydaughters life, and enjoying¬–honestly enjoying–my familyand friends. I didn’t, and don’twant to enjoy them without theaid of something further short-ening my time here. Drugs andthe related lifestyle are pull-ing me closer to the dirt fromwhence I came.

I was told when my daughterwas born that I would blink

and she would be in kindergar-ten, nish War & Peace andshe would be graduating highschool. But if I never enjoyedher life I might as well be dead.As I am released, this time, her6th birthday is tomorrow. I willbe there, alive and well at herbirthday party.

Conclusions, I have none, ex-cept that honest sober time withfamily and friends is far morerewarding than a short life lledwith short, blurry memories.

8/9/2019 Spring VOX 2010


Spring VOX 2010

Documents

Transcript of Spring VOX 2010