WA2K Radio is now on the air

and, a word origin:

Easter
O.E. Eastre (Northumbrian Eostre), from P.Gmc. *Austron, a goddess of fertility and sunrise whose feast was celebrated at the spring equinox, from *austra-, from PIE *aus- "to shine" (especially of the dawn). Bede says Anglo-Saxon Christians adopted her name and many of the celebratory practices for their Mass of Christ's resurrection. Ultimately related to east. Almost all neighboring languages use a variant of L. Pasche to name this holiday. Easter Island so called because it was discovered by Europeans on Easter Sunday, 1722.

Back later, listeners, with more songs and news items.

Good morning, listeners.

Are you surprised to discover that we are trend-setters here at WA2K?

The results of 50 Tracks are in, and <drum roll> The Best Canadian Song of All Time is ...


Four Strong Winds, by Ian and Sylvia !!!


http://www.cbc.ca/50tracks/thelist.html


the top twenty



it does read a bit like the soundtrack of my life. i think i have a story for almost every one of those songs. Cav'd be thrilled about #4. I wonder if he and Stan are singing together right now.

thanks ehbeth, i missed most of the shows compiling this list and really had no idea what was going on

the top ten are just about right on in my oppinion

joni mitchell with two in the top ten

here are my two fave j m songs

Rainy Night House

It was a rainy night
We took a taxi to your mother's home
She went to florida and left you
With your father's gun, alone
Upon her small white bed
I fell into a dream
You sat up all the night and watched me
To see, who in the world I might be

I am from the sunday school
I sing soprano in the upstairs choir
You are a holy man
On the f.m. radio
I sat up all the night and watched thee
To see, who in the world you might be.

You called me beautiful
You called your mother-she was very tanned
So you packed your tent and you went
To live out in the arizona sand
You are a refugee
From a wealthy family
You gave up all the golden factories
To see, who in the world you might be


You Turn Me On, I'm A Radio

If you're driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who's bound to love you
Oh honey you turn me on
I'm a radio
I'm a country station
I'm a little bit corny
I'm a wildwood flower
Waving for you
Broadcasting tower
Waving for you
And I'm sending you out
This signal here
I hope you can pick it up
Loud and clear
I know you don't like weak women
You get bored so quick
And you don't like strong women
'Cause they're hip to your tricks
It's been dirty for dirty
Down the line
But you know
I come when you whistle
When you're loving and kind
But if you've got too many doubts
If there's no good reception for me
Then tune me out, 'cause honey
Who needs the static
It hurts the head
And you wind up cracking
And the day goes dismal
From "Breakfast Barney"
To the sign-off prayer
What a sorry face you get to wear
I'm going to tell you again now
If you're still listening there
If you're driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who's bound to love you
If you're lying on the beach
With the transistor going
Kick off the sand cause honey
The love's still flowing
If your head says forget it
But your heart's still smoking
Call me at the station
The lines are open

Good Morning to All.

EhBeth: Lots of good songs on that list, but I don't see Canadian Sunset.

Bob: I watched Bandwagon, too. Don't forget "I'll Guess I'll Have to Change My Plan". That was a good one.

I'm going to watch Easter Parade today. It's loaded with goodies, including Snooky Ookums and A Couple of Swells, Steppin' Out With My Baby, Shakin' the Blues Away and romantic that I am, my favorite, It Only Happens When I Dance With You, and more.


And now, Birthday Time:

1845 Wilhelm Roentgen, scientist who discovered X rays (Lennep, Prussia; died 1923)
1899 Gloria Swanson, actress (Chicago, IL; died 1983)
1914 Snooky Lanson Memphis TN, singer (Your Hit Parade, 5 Star Jubilee)(Died 1991)
1924 Sarah Vaughan, jazz singer (Newark, NJ; died 1990)
1939 Judy Carne comedienne (Laugh-In, Love on a Rooftop)
1940 Cale Yarborough, auto racer (Timmonsville, SC)
1942 Michael York, actor (Fulmer, England)
1952 Maria Schneider, actress (Paris, France)
1960 Jennifer Grey actress (Dirty Dancing); Joel Grey's daughter
1963 Dave Koz saxophonist
1963 Quentin Tarantino, actor/director (Knoxville, TN)
1970 Mariah Carey, singer (Huntington, NY)

Well, Isn't that something, ehBeth? Glad I have Four Strong Winds saved along with Grieg. They both are concertos as I see it.

dj, and your songs completed the meaning here on WA2K radio/FM. <smile>

Ah, and here is our Raggedy, the romantic who loves to dance. I, too, know that melody. One thing that I didn't know is that Jennifer Grey was Joel Grey's daughter. Part of Dirty Dancing was filmed at Mountain Lake, a primitive but posh resort. It was there that I met Jessica Lang and Sam Shepherd.

And Michael York who played, Tibalt, in one version of Romeo and Juliet. I think that Mercutio referred to him as "rat-catcher"....

Well, I must be off for a bit and look at the bright day with lustre.

Rainy Night House is a good example of Joni Mitchell's exquiaite(sic) song writing skills.

Michael York, met him in the Marks and Sparks in Yorkville here. He wasn't as tall as I'd expected. At all. Nice man. A pleasant co-shopper.

Rainy Night House is definitely one of Ms. Mitchell's best. But how many songs has she written that aren't startlingly wonderful.

another new word for the day coined by Panz:

exquiate: a variant of the word exquisite.

Having seen ehBeth hammered brass egg on the Happy Easter thread, brought to mind the china egg:

The allusion is to putting a china egg into a chickens nest to encourage them to lay."
Should read:
The allusion is to putting a china egg into a hen's nest to encourage her to lay.
Why?
Chickens don't lay eggs, hens lay eggs. 'The quote' is also grammatically incorrect!

Hee hee. Then, of course, listeners, there's the Fabrege egg. I have several of those.

Letty, even when you poke fun....you're gentle.


Guess I'll have to change it back to the original so people won't wonder what you're on about

psst, Letty - that was an Emu egg

I was just kidding you, Panz. I love to do made up words. That way, we can fool the OED.

Any and all coined words welcome on WA2K, folks.

Bethie, An emu egg? My Gawd. Where's heeba? Well, whatever, TO. It was beautiful.

Pysanka are a wonderful Ukrainian Easter tradition, listeners.

< a whole dang page of 'em click>

Letty,

Do you have a Fabergé like this?

Fantastic, ehBeth. Our friend and choir director used to do a decorative egg with just the shell. Very pretty, but fragile.

Francis, that is an awesome masterpiece. Staring at it. Noting the Roman numerals midway, makes we wonder if the egg turns or is like a music box. No, honey. I don't have any Faberges. Had I the Tsar's collection (wherever it is) I would be off to Paris tomorrw in my own Lear jet.

However, listeners. Who know what lurks in that attic or garage or old steamer trunk.

Faberge eggs.

The most important feast of the Russian Orthodox church calendar is Easter. It is celebrated with the exchanging of eggs and three kisses. The Faberge eggs began in 1884 with an Easter egg made for the czar that became a gift for his wife, Czarina Maria. The egg reminded the empress of her homeland, and so from then on it was agreed that Faberge would make an Easter egg each year for Maria. Faberge designed Easter eggs for another eleven years until Alexander III died. Then Nicholas II, Alexander's son, continued the tradition. It was agreed that the Easter gift would always have an egg shape and would hold a surprise. These projects became top priority of the company and were planned and worked on far in advance--a year or longer. The surprise was always kept secret.

http://users.vnet.net/schulman/Faberge/eggs.html

The mention of Grieg's music always reminds me of my ex wife Solveig. One of the sections of his In the Halls of the Mountain King is Solveig's Song. It was one of the favorites of her father

Bob, I see that you aren't just a singer of Karaoke nor just a swinger of birches, you are also a marvelous historian. I remember your having said that your ex was from Norway. The smallest thing can conjure up a memory of delight.

Thanks to our occasional Cyracuz, I located the Greig piece that I really love, and now have saved.

Speaking of conjuring, my allusion to Bob being a swinger of birches, brought this poem by Frost to my frontal lobe:

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
>From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.


One does tire of palms a bit.

Close. Solveig came from Finland or as they call it Suomi. An inhabitant in their language is a Suomilainen.

Monty Python's Finland

Chorus: Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I want to be,
Pony trekking or camping,
Or just watching TV,
Finland, Finland, Finland,
It's the country for me.

Verse: You're so near to Russia,
So far from Japan,
Quite a long way from Cairo,
Lots of miles from Vietnam.

Chorus: Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I want to be,
Eating breakfast or dinner,
Or snack lunch in the hall,
Finland, Finland, Finland,
Finland has it all.

Verse: You're so sadly neglected,
And often ignored,
A poor second to Belgium,
When going abroad.

Chorus: Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I quite want to be,
Your mountains so lofty,
Your treetops so tall,
Finland, Finland, Finland,
Finland has it all.

Repeat: Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I quite want to be,
Your mountains so lofty,
Your treetops so tall,
Finland, Finland, Finland,
Finland has it all.

Fade... Finland has it all...


Composer: Michael Palin
Author: Michael Palin
Arranger: John Du Prez

Apologies, apologies, Bob. I had forgotten that you said that she was from Finland. Neat song, however. It seems to me that I recall Sibelius' "Going Home", but, as usual, can't "fin"the lyrics.

Listeners, don't hestitate to write or phone about any errors that you hear on WA2K radio. We welcome all.