WA2K Radio is now on the air

Another APB, listeners: Where are they?

our man in Canada--dj.
our man in Norway--cyracuz
our man in Paris--Francis
our man in Germany--Walter
our lady in hair rollers--Calamity

Feel free, listeners, to call in your concerns.

Thought for Today: ``Our present addiction to pollsters and forecasters is a symptom of our chronic uncertainty about the future. ... We watch our experts read the entrails of statistical tables and graphs the way the ancients watched their soothsayers read the entrails of a chicken.'' - Eric Hoffer, American philosopher (1902-1983).



05/20/05 20:00

Sweet Miss Letty, I am only reading for a while.
I am too tired to actively participate anywhere (and
that from me who butts in everywhere )
I have a sick child here, and nothing
makes me more helpless than that.

But I am "listening in"......

Oh, no, CJ. Please let us know how things go. I read somewhere that the simplest things can ease the pain of a child. I wish I had that article to share with our listeners. One example that I remember was the touch of sugar water on the lips of an ailing child. I think the old folks used to call it a sugar tit.

Hi Letty:

It was indeed Will who coined the phrase (free of charge) I never met a man I didn't like. BTW, Lucky Lindy gave cause for believing he was supportive of the Nazi regime.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Lindbergh

But there are always doubts for people in the public eye and especially when you garner your opinions from the printed word. I fall back on the the most logical judgment intended mainly for politicians and lawyers.

How do you know when they are lying?

Their lips are moving.

Bob, I declare if you aren't the best medicine. I realized that Lindberg was an expat and just as the Chinese are ticked with the Japanese for revising history, I'm certain that there will always be those who skew the news to suit the times.

Our heroes of today were once villains of yesterday, just as the spoken or unspoken word. Perhaps I've played this song before, but here she goes again:




THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS (Bette Midler)

It must have been cold there in my shadow,
to never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine, that's your way,
you always walked a step behind.

So I was the one with all the glory,
while you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name -- for so long,
a beautiful smile to hide the pain.

CHORUS:
Did you ever know that you're my hero,
and ev'rything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it,
I would be nothing with out you.

(CHORUS)

Fly, fly, fly away,
you let me fly so high.
Oh, fly, fly,
so high against the sky, so high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank you, thank God for you,
the wind beneath my wings.

I love that song.

Me too. And La Midler did it better than anyone. Hugs and kisses Sweety.

Well, listeners, What's a little hug and kiss between friends?




"Sealed With A Kiss"

'Tho we gotta say goodbye for the summer
Darling I promise you this
I'll send you all my love
Every day in a letter
Sealed with a kiss

Guess it's gonna be a cold lonely summer
But I'll fill the emptiness
I'll send you all my dreams
Every day in a letter
Sealed with a kiss

I'll see you in the sunlight
I'll hear your voice everywhere
I'll run to tenderly hold you
But darling you won't be there
I don't wanna say goodbye for the summer
Knowing the love we'll miss
Oh let us make a pledge to meet in September
And seal it with a kiss

[Instrumental]

Guess it's gonna be a cold lonely summer
But I'll fill the emptiness
I'll send you all my love every day in a letter
Sealed with a kiss
Sealed with a kiss
Sealed with a kiss

<big broad smile>

breaking news:

Scientists are excited about a vitamin again. But unlike fads that sizzled and fizzled, the evidence this time is strong and keeps growing.

If it bears out, it will challenge one of medicine's most fundamental beliefs: that people need to coat themselves with sunscreen whenever they're in the sun. Doing that may actually contribute to far more cancer deaths than it prevents, some researchers think.

The vitamin is D, nicknamed the "sunshine vitamin" because the skin makes it from ultraviolet rays. Sunscreen blocks its production, but dermatologists and health agencies have long preached that such lotions are needed to prevent skin cancer.

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/wireStory?id=778203

No wonder the orange has become the official fruit of the sunshine state.

Moonlight Gambler - Frankie Laine

[Words by Bob Hilliard and Music by Phil Springer]

SPOKEN:
You can gamble for match sticks, you can gamble for gold
The stakes may be heavy or small
But if you haven't gambled for love and lost
You haven't gambled at all

They call me a moonlight gambler
I've gambled for love and lost
When I gamble for love and it isn't in the cards
Oh, what heartaches it can cost me

Win or lose, I'm a moonlight gambler
And a winner is what I long to be
So I'll gamble for love just as long as I live
Till the day Lady Luck smiles at me

You can gamble for match sticks
You can gamble for gold
The stakes may be heavy or small
But if you haven't gambled for love and lost
Then you haven't gambled at all

No, if you haven't gambled for love in the moonlight
Then you haven't gambled at all

So I'll gamble for love just as long as I live
Till the day Lady Luck smiles at me

They call me the moonlight gambler
They call me the moonlight gambler

{{{{{Edgar}}}}} thanks for the song, I Know Where I'm Going. Love it.

Bob, the quotes from Will Rogers made my day. He was a wonderful man.

Letty, how are things going for you? I hope you were able to sleep last night and are feeling rested today.

Here is a song from Louie Armstrong that is dedicated to Letty:

NO GAL MADE HAS GOT A SHADE
ON SWEET GEORGIA BROWN,
TWO LEFT FEET, OH, SO NEAT,
HAS SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!
THEY ALL SIGH, AND WANT TO DIE,
FOR SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!
I'LL TELL YOU JUST WHY,
YOU KNOW I DON'T LIE, NOT MUCH:
IT'S BEEN SAID SHE KNOCKS 'EM DEAD,
WHEN SHE LANDS IN TOWN!
SINCE SHE CAME, WHY IT'S A SHAME,
HOW SHE COOLS THEM DOWN!
FELLAS SHE CAN'T GET
MUST BE FELLAS SHE AIN'T MET!
GEORGIA CLAIMED HER, GEORGIA NAMED HER,
SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!
NO GAL MADE HAS GOT A SHADE
ON SWEET GEORGIA BROWN,
TWO LEFT FEET, OH, SO NEAT,
HAS SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!
THEY ALL SIGH, AND WANT TO DIE,
FOR SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!
I'LL TELL YOU JUST WHY,
YOU KNOW I DON'T LIE; NOT MUCH:
ALL THOSE GIFTS THOSE COURTERS GIVE,
TO SWEET GEORGIA BROWN,
THEY BUY CLOTHES AT FASHION SHOWS,
WITH ONE DOLLAR DOWN,
OH, BOY! TIP YOUR HAT!
OH, JOY! SHE'S THE CAT!
WHO'S THAT, MISTER? 'TAIN'T A SISTER!
SWEET GEORGIA BROWN!

edgar, life is a gamble, no?

For dear Diane:

Things are what they will be, my dear and trusted friend, but you are so kind to ask. Not, to worry, all. I'll keep everyone here apprised of the situation, and I love sweet Georgia Brown. Thanks, honey.

Here's an interesting article listeners:



MUSIC OF THE YUROK
AND TULOWA INDIANS
Love Song
Gambling Songs Gambing Songs
song of the Tulowa Indians
performed by Sam Lopez, Loren Bommelyn
from Songs of Love, Luck, Animals & Magic
Indian gambling games span the continent. Although they are not the same from area to area, a common element in many is the hiding of a stick, a bone, or a rock. Often such objects are distictively marked. The Yurok "card" game involves hiding a marked stick in a bundle of plain sticks. The "lucky" gambling songs are designed to give the singer's team a psychological advantage.

The leader begins beating his drum softly and starts to sing. He is joined in unison by his second, who shakes the rattle in time with the drum. Later, the second switches to a bass part to accompany the leader. Toward the end, the second and the leader merge once more into unison and finish together. In the middle is a higher-pitched section akin to the "rise" found in many California Indian songs from other areas.

The bass part uses the vocables "heyowe","hayowe", or "hoyowe" to carry the ostinato figure.


Some songs . . . have the basic "Heyowe" bass, but . . . some of them [are] really complex songs. . . . When a singer climbs up his scale and then drops back down to his bass, then you pick that up and duplicate that exactly. And you cary that same thing all the way through. And then when he goes clear up his scale and changes the levels of his voice, then drops down, you'll match immediately. . . .And that is a good second. (Interview with Loren Bommelyn, April 12, 1976 in Los Angeles.)

Between songs an interlude of drumming usually occurs.
The richness of Sam Lopez's voice is rare in any man, but at eighty-nine it is remarkable indeed.

On the final song of the film, Yurok Frank A. Douglas accompanies himself on a square double-headed frame drum. The range is wide, an eleventh. The melodic contour is terraced descending throughout each of the five strophes. In contrast to the other songs Douglas sings, the vocal tension increases.

Note: The gambling songs were not translated; to do so would put the songs' luck in jeopardy.

I must be off to do stuff, folks. Don't touch that dial.

AIN'T NOBODY HERE BUT US CHICKENS
(Whitney - Kramer)
LOUIS JORDAN

One night farmer Brown was takin' the air
He locked up the barnyard with the greatest of care
Down in the henhouse something stirred
When he shouted "who's there?", this is what he heard
There ain't nobody here but us chickens
There ain't nobody here at all
So calm yourself, stop that fuss
There ain't nobody here but us
We chickens tryin' to sleep and you bust in
And hobble-hobble, hobble-hobble, it's a sin
There ain't nobody here but us chickens
There ain't nobody here at all
You're stompin' around and shakin' the ground
You're kickin' up an awful dust
We chickens tryin' to sleep and you bust in
And hobble-hobble, hobble-hobble, it's a sin
Hey, tomorrow is a busy day
We got things to do, we got eggs to lay
We got ground to dig and worms to scratch
It takes a lot of sittin' gettin' chicks to hatch
There ain't nobody here but us chickens
There ain't nobody here at all
So calm yourself and stop that fuss
There ain't nobody here but us
Kindly point that gun the other way
And hobble-hobble, hobble off and hit the hay

Hey, tomorrow is a busy day
We got things to do, we got eggs to lay
We got ground to dig and worms to scratch
It takes a lot of sittin' gettin' chicks to hatch
There ain't nobody here but us chickens
There ain't nobody here at all
So calm yourself and stop that fuss
There ain't nobody here but us
Kindly point that gun the other way
And hobble-hobble, hobble off and hit the hay
Hey bossman, what'd you say
It's easy pickin'
There ain't nobody here but us chickens!

A big smile to edgar for those humorous lyrics.

We are still looking for our vanished contributors, but I'm certain they are fine wherever they are, so I will say goodnight til it be morrow:

Artist Lyrics: Wolf
Song Lyrics: Moonlight
Album Lyrics:


Enter the night as the day fades away
Feel it's dark embrace
You're all alone except a million stars in space
As you walk lost and astray
The man in the moon stares with a ghastly grin
With cold eyes that cannot see
Is it the echo of your footsteps that you hear
Or is it someone there?
Shadows at night
Dance the walls when you're out of sight
Creep up from behind
When you walk in the moonlight
I'm the one in from behind
I'm your shadow in the night
I am the dark side of you
Where you are I am too
Wherever you go I follow you
When you walk in the pale moonlight.

good evening WA2K, i've been busy the last few days, working and a family reunion today, but i'm back, and in honour of a special i watched tonight on tv, some ella fitzgerald to pass the time

A-tisket A-tasket
A brown and yellow basket
I send a letter to my mommy
On the way I dropped it
I dropped it
I dropped it
Yes on the way I dropped it
A little girlie picked it up
And put it in her pocket
SHE WAS TRUCKIN ON DOWN THE AVENUE
Not a single thing to do
She went peck peck pecking all around
When she spied it on the ground
She took it
She took it
My little yellow basket
And if she doesn't bring it back I think that I will die

A-tisket A-tasket
I lost my yellow basket
And if the girlie don't return it
Don't know know what I'll do

Oh dear I wonder where my basket can be
(So do we, so do we, so do we, so do we, so do we)
Oh gee I wish that little girl I could see
(So do we, so do we, so do we, so do we, so do we)

Oh why was I so careless with that basket of mine?
That itty bitty basket was a joy of mine!

A-tisket
A-tasket
I lost my yellow basket
Won't someone help me find my basket
And make me happy again?
(Was it green?) No, no, no, no
(Was it red?) No, no, no, no
(Was it blue?) No, no, no, no

Just a little yellow basket
A little yellow basket


Oh listen, sister,
I love my mister man,
And I can't tell yo' why,
Dere ain't no reason
Why I should love dat man.
It must be sumpin' dat de angels done plan.

Refrain:

Fish got to swim, birds got to fly,
I got to love one man till I die.
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.
Tell me he's lazy, tell me he's slow,
Tell me I'm crazy (maybe I know).
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.
When he goes away
Dat's a rainy day,
But when he comes back dat day is fine,
De sun will shine!
He kin come home as late as kin be,
Home widout him ain't no home to me.
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.
~~~
My man is shif'less
An' good for nuthin' too
(He's mah man jes' de same)

He's never round here
When dere is work to do.
He's never round here when dere's workin' to do.
De chimbley's smokin',
De roof is leakin' in,
But he don't seem to care.
He kin be happy
Wid jes' a sip of gin.
Ah even love him when his kisses got gin!


Missed the Saturday dance
Heard they crowded the floor
Couldn't bear it without you
Don't get around much anymore

Thought I'd visit the club
Got as far as the door
They'd have asked me about you
Don't get around much anymore

Darling, I guess my mind's more at ease
But nevertheless, why stir up memories

Been invited on dates
Might have gone but what for
Awfully different without you
Don't get around much anymore


I've wined and dined on Mulligan Stew, and never wished for Turkey
As I hitched and hiked and grifted too, from Maine to Albuquerque
Alas, I missed the Beaux Arts Ball, and what is twice as sad
I was never at a party where they honored Noel Ca-ad (Coward)
But social circles spin too fast for me
My "hobohemia" is the place to be

I get too hungry, for dinner at eight
I like the theater, but never come late
I never bother, with people I hate
That's why the lady is a tramp

I don't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of the girls
That's why the lady is a tramp

I like the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without care
I'm broke, it's o'k
Hate California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp

I go to Coney, the beach is divine
I go to ballgames, the bleachers are fine
I follow Winchell, and read every line
That's why the lady is a tramp

I like a prizefight, that isn't a fake
I love the rowing, on Central Park lake
I go to Opera and stay wide awake
That's why the lady is a tramp

I like the green grass under my shoes
What can I lose, I'm flat, that's that
I'm alone when I lower my lamp
That's why the lady is a tramp


When all the world is a hopless jumble,
and the raindrops tumble all around,
heaven opens a magic lane.

When all the clouds darken up the skyway,
There's a rainbow highway to be found,
Leading from your window pane.

To a place behind the sun,
Just a step beyond the rain.

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,
There's a land that I heard of,
Once in a lullabye.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.

Someday day I'll wish upon a star,
and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
Away above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow,
Why, then oh why can't I?

Someday I'll wish upon a star,
and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
Away above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow,
Why, then oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly,
Beyond the rainbow,
Why, oh why can't I?


There are many many crazy things
That will keep me loving you
And with your permission
May I list a few

The way you wear your hat
The way you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No they can't take that away from me

The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off key
The way you haunt my dreams
No they can't take that away from me

We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love
Still I'll always, always keep the memory of

The way you hold your knife
The way we danced till three
The way you changed my life
No they can't take that away from me

Good early morning, WA2K radio fans.

It's good to see our dj back again and singing the songs of yesteryear to the tune of the lady of scat.

Folks, if you're a jazz fan, you will appreciate those lyrics, not just by Ella, but sung by many over the years.
DJ, good luck with your family reunion and have a great gathering, if that's at all possible.<smile>

Here's a perplexing news item:

Mongolia Nostalgic for Communism By STEPHANIE HOO, Associated Press Writer
Sat May 21, 5:24 PM ET



GACHUURT, Mongolia - For most of her 53 years, she has lived as a nomadic herder under Mongolia's wide blue skies, raising nine children, surviving snowstorms and drought, and hauling the family's white felt tent to a new site each season in search of grass for their sheep. But never did Tsahiriin Daariimaa think life would be as hard as it is now, on the eve of Sunday's presidential elections.



With the end of communism in Mongolia 15 years ago, Daariimaa said she and her husband are no longer guaranteed monthly wages from a government farm, but must sell their wool in a market of fluctuating prices and nervy Chinese traders.

In being a bit introspective in the wee hours of the morning, this article reminds me of Robert Ruark's book SOMETHING OF VALUE concerned with the mau mau uprising:

"It was not only a safari adventure story, but it was also a snapshot of history, a study of human psychology, and a search for recognition and justice. I know I'm paraphrasing, but the opening Bantu proverb, 'If you do away with the traditions of the past, then you must first replace them with Something of Value" definitely and perfectly describes the book'"

and here's a song to begin the day:





When the sun is high
In the afternoon sky
You can always find something to do
But from dusk til dawn
As the clock ticks on
Something happens to you

In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never even think of counting sheep

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You'd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
That's the time you miss her most of all

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You'd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
That's the time you miss her most of all

Good morning Letty, good morning everyone!

Out TV programme last night (part of the series of blues & soul I was mentioning to you last week) was about the Motown Sound and featured interviews with Berry Gordy and Holland, Dozier, and Holland from Hitsville USA, and clips of Jackie Wilson, Etta James, Diana Ross and the Supremes, Smokey Robinson, Fontella Bass and many more.
Not forgetting the house musicians, the Funk Brothers. Also Chess Records and some Chicago musicians.
A most enjoyable programme in a great series.

I've been watching that!

McTag, it's great to see you in our studios. If you can, will you tell us about some of the songs that were done by the Motown group? I could take a trip to the archives, but I think our listeners would appreciate it more from a Brit.

Incidentally, did you read the book SOMETHING OF VALUE?

Fontella's very good just singing to her own piano accompaniment, isn't she? I'd pay to see that.
Also Etta James- what a belting singer.

Well, well. Good moring, Sarah. How are things in Manchuria, er make that Manchester. <smile>