WA2K Radio is now on the air

letty wrote : "Now isn't a capon one of them roosters? "

he was, letty, he was ! he bid goodbye to roosterdom - but he's mighty tasty . hbg

Oops, folks, I read a weather report and it disappeared. Ah, well. Once more with feeling.

JL, everyone misses the input. I missed dys' song and I think he has sulked off somewhere. I'll do a recap later for you.

It's been a while since I have had gourmet food, hamburger. As a matter of record, it's been a while since I have had hamburger.

Come on, everyone. Let's do some dedications or requests. dj, I just did your "B" song, Canada.

Dedicated to Letty - although you'll don't get a hamburger at an Italian restaurants .... usually:

A bottle of white, a bottle of red
Perhaps a bottle of rose instead
We'll get a table near the street
In our old familiar place
You and I - face to face
A bottle of red, a bottle of white
It all depends upon your appetite
I'll meet you any time you want
In our Italian Restaurant.

Things are okay with me these days
Got a good job, got a good office
I got a new wife, got a new life
And the family is fine
We lost touch long ago
You lost weight I did not know
You could ever look so nice after so much time.

Do you remember those days hanging out at the village green?
Engineer boots, leather jackets and tight blue jeans
Oh, you drop a dime in the box play the song about New Orleans
Cold beer, hot lights, my sweet romantic teenage nights

Brenda and Eddie were the popular steadies
And the king and the queen of the prom
Riding around with the car top down and the radio on
Nobody looked any finer
Or was more of a hit at the Parkway Diner
We never knew we could want more than that out of life
Surely Brenda and Eddie would always know how to survive.

Brenda and Eddie were still going steady in the summer of '75
when they decided the marriage would be at the end of July
Everyone said they were crazy
"Brenda you know that you're much too lazy
and Eddie could never afford to live that kind of life."
Oh, but there we were wavin' Brenda and Eddie goodbye.

Well they got an apartment with deep pile carpets
And a couple of paintings from Sears
A big waterbed that they bought with the bread
They had saved for a couple of years
They started to fight when the money got tight
And they just didn't count on the tears.

And Rock and Roll!

Well, they lived for a while in a very nice style
But it's always the same in the end
They got a divorce as a matter of course
And they parted the closest of friends
Then the king and the queen went back to the green
But you could never go back there again.

Brenda and Eddie had it already by the summer of '75
From the high to the low to the end of the show
For the rest of their lives
They couldn't go back to the greasers
The best they could do was pick up the pieces
We always knew they would both find a way to get by
That's all I heard about Brenda and Eddie
Can't tell you more 'cause I've told you already
And here we are wavin' Brenda and Eddie goodbye.

A bottle of reds, a bottle of whites
Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight
I'll meet you anytime you want
In our Italian Restaurant.

former german chancellor schroeder(center) took leave in hanover/germany while a military band played frank sinatra's "myyyy waaaaay"

Plus 'Jack the Knife" and "Summertimes".

(Besides of course the usual 'big tattoo' ("Großer Zapfenstreich") music.)

Walter, how dear of you. Thank you, my long time friend. Good wine is hard to find, but my guests bought lots of it and I don't even have a cellar. Well, a salt cellar.

Letty, my dear.
Breathe deeply of the evening air and know we all are thinking of you.

JL, posts are thoughtful here, speaking generally..
hard though to read all - what would that be - 21,000 plus?

A bit at a time saves nine.

A bit of a tune, come noon...

A bite of tuna, said the chef...

This piano is out, said the tuner...

Ah, OssoJo, How sweet. Having a taste of merlot as we speak.

And for you:

Volare Lyrics (Frank Sinatra)





(this is the english version)
Sometimes the world is a valley of heartaches and tears,
And in the hustle and bustle, no sunshine appears,
But you and I have our love always there to remind us
There is a way we can leave all the shadows behind us.
Volare, oh, oh! cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh!
Let?s fly way up in the clouds,away from the maddening crowds
We can sing in the glow of a star that I know of
Where lovers enjoy peace of mind
Let us leave the confusion and all disillusion behind
Just like birds of a feather, a rainbow together we?ll find
Volare, oh, oh! cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh!
No wonder my happy heart sings, your love has given me wings
Your love has given me wings, your love has given me wings

(this is the italian version)
Penso che un sogno cosþ non ritorni mai pi-
Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu
Poi d?improvviso venivo dal vento rapito
E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito
Volare, oh, oh! cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh!
Nel blu, dipinto di blu, felice di stare lass-
E volavo, volavo felice pi- in alto del sole ed ancora pi- su
Mentre il mondo pian piano spariva lontano laggi-
Una musica dolce suonava soltanto per me
Volare, oh, oh! cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh!
Nel blu, dipinto di blu, felice di stare lass-
Nel biu, dipinto di blu, felice di stare lass

Ahh...

I remember this first from my youth, and then later
in my oldth, when I was going to italian language lab at UCLA... some of the beginning exercises started with Volare..



Letty, I am not sure, from a fairly recent post, that you understand I'm not italian. I'm an irish american with - not a fixation, though it seems so, but - a keen interest in whatever went on in the italian peninsula ever; I have used my original rather romantic tourist interest as a trigger for exploration re italy and a lot of other history and art and so on. I've read a lot of nitty gritty stuff and don't view italy in the romantic way it may seem I do... but remain vitally interested.

Oh, yeah, and somewhat romantic about it, after all, and still..

So, then..

singing,

Volare...

Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament
Another day's useless energy is spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one;
Lonely man cries for love and has none;
New mother picks up and suckles her son;
Senior citizens wish they were young.

Cold-hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colours from our sight,
Red is grey and yellow white
But we decide which is right
And which is an illusion.

My, my, listeners. I had no idea that our osso was of Irish descent. I suppose we all just took it for granted.

It really doesn't matter, folks. There's a little bit of every country in all of us.







Langston Hughes - Let America Be America Again

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Cold-hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colours from our sight,
Red is grey and yellow white
But we decide which is right
And which is an illusion.

That one, dys, I didn't miss.

Looking inward at the cold wolf moon in me:

The Cluricaune, or Leprechaune, is a mischievous old fellow, dressing in a green coat, but without brogues

"That sottish elf,
Who quaffs with swollen lips the ruby wine,
Draining the cellar with as free a hand
As if it were his purse which ne'er lack'd coin."

I suppose, for all of us, it's the night that makes the day, listeners.

A long time ago the Bluebird's feathers were a very dull ugly colour. It lived near a lake with waters of the most delicate blue which never changed because no stream flowed in or out. Because the bird admired the blue water, it bathed in the lake four times every morning for four days, and every morning it sang:

There's a blue water.
It lies there.
I went in.
I am all blue.

On the fourth morning it shed all its feathers and came out in its bare skin, but on the fifth morning it came out with blue feathers.

All the while, Coyote had been watching the bird. He wanted to jump in and catch it for his dinner, but he was afraid of the blue water. But on the fifth morning he said to the Bluebird: "How is it that all your ugly colour has come out of your feathers, and now you are all blue and sprightly and beautiful? You are more beautiful than anything that flies in the air. I want to be blue, too."

"I went in only four times," replied the Bluebird. It then taught Coyote the song it had sung.

And so Coyote steeled his courage and jumped into the lake. For four mornings he did this, singing the song the Bluebird had taught him, and on the fifth day he turned as blue as the bird.

That made Coyote feel very proud. He was so proud to be a blue coyote that when he walked along he looked about on every side to see if anyone was noticing how fine and blue he was.

Then he started running along very fast, looking at his shadow to see if it also was blue. He was not watching the road, and presently he ran into a stump so hard that it threw him down upon the ground and he became dust-coloured all over. And to this day all coyotes are the colour of dusty earth.

I recall sitting in my car listening to this Volare recording. It's a very vivid image in an otherwise foggy past. What year was that, 1959-60?

re Volare and Domenico Modugno...

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

Ah, dys, I love the Indian lore. What a simple and beautiful philsophy they had. Thank you for that moving tale of the blue bird and the not so cunning coyote.

The first time I heard Volare, JL, was from a valid member of the rat pack.

Goodnight, my friends.

From Letty with love--still!

sorry to be so late with my "B" bands today, had an emergency at work and spent most of the afternoon cleaning up bunker oil

but now on with the show, the second installment in my bands of the alpabet

Grade 9
Barenaked Ladies

I found my locker and I found my classes
Lost my lunch and I broke my glasses,
That guy is huge! That girl is wailing!
First day of school and I'm already failing.

This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine
This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine

I've got a blue and red Adidas bag and a humongous binder,
I'm trying my best not to look like a minor niner.
I went out for the football team to prove that I'm a man
I guess I shouldn't tell them that I like Duran Duran.

This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine
This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine

Well, half my friends are crazy and the others are depressed
and none of them can help me study for my math test.
I got into the classroom and my knowledge was gone;
I guess I should've studied instead of watching Wrath Of Khan.

This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine
This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine

They called me chicken legs, they called me four-eyes
they called me fatso, they called me buckwheat,
they called me Eddie

This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine
This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine

I've got a red leather tie and pair of rugger pants,
I put them on and I went to the high school dance.
Dad said I had to be home by eleven --
aw, man, I'm gonna miss Stairway to Heaven.

This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine


Walk Like An Egyptian
The Bangles

All the old paintings on the tombs
They do the sand dance don't you know
If they move too quick (oh whey oh)
They're falling down like a domino

All the bazaar men by the Nile
They got the money on a bet
Gold crocodiles (oh whey oh)
They snap their teeth on your cigarette

Foreign types with the hookah pipes say
Ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh
Walk like an Egyptian

[The] Blonde waitresses take their trays
They spin around and they cross the floor
They've got the moves (oh whey oh)
You drop your drink then they bring you more

All the school kids so sick of books
They like the punk and the metal band
When the buzzer rings (oh whey oh)
They're walking like an Egyptian

All the kids in the marketplace say
Ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh
Walk like an Egyptian

Slide your feet up the street bend your back
Shift your arm then you pull it back
Life['s] hard you know (oh whey oh)
So strike a pose on a Cadillac

If you want to find all the cops
They're hanging out in the donut shop
They sing and dance (oh whey oh)
[They] Spin the clubs cruise down the block

All the Japanese with their yen
The party boys call the Kremlin
And the Chinese know (oh whey oh)
They walk the line like Egyptian

All the cops in the donut shop say
Ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh
Walk like an Egyptian
Walk like an Egyptian


Intergalactic
Beastie Boys

Intergalactic Planetary Planetary Intergalactic Another Dimension
Well now don't you tell me to smile
You stick around I'll make it worth your while
Got numbers beyond what you can dial
Maybe it's because I'm so versatile
Style profile I said
It always brings me back when I hear Wu Child
From the Hudson River out to the Nile
I run the marathon to the very last mile
Well if you battle me I will revile
People always say my style is wild
You've got gall, you've got guile
To step to me I'm a rapophile
If you want to battle you're in denial
Coming from Uranus to check my style
Go ahead put my rhymes on trial
Cast you off into exile

Intergalactic planetary
Planetary intergalactic

Jazz and Awol that's our team
Step inside the party disrupt the whole scene
When it comes to beats well I'm a fiend
I like my sugar with coffee and cream
Well I gotta Keep it going keep it going full steam
Too sweet to be sour too nice to be mean
Well on the tough guy style I'm not too keen
Try to change the world, I'mma plot and scheme
Mario C likes to keep it clean
Gonna shine like a sunbeam
Keep on rapping cause that's my dream
Got an A from Moe Dee for sticking to themes
When it comes to envy y'all is green
Jealous of the rhyme and the rhyme routine
Another dimension new galaxy
Intergalactic planetary

Intergalactic planetary
Planetary intergalactic

From the family tree of old school hip hop
Kick off your shoes and relax your socks
The rhymes will spread just like a pox
Cause the music is live like an electric shock
I am known to do the Wop
Also known for the Flintstone Flop
Tammy D getting biz on the crop
Beastie Boys know when to let the beat drop
Well when I wrote graffiti my name was Slop
If my rap's soup my beats is stock
Step from the tables as I start to chop
I'm a lumber jack DJ Adrock
If you try to knock me you'll get mocked
I'll stir fry you in my wok
Your knees'll start shaking and your fingers pop
Like a pinch on the neck from Mr. Spock

Intergalactic planetary
Planetary intergalactic
Another dimension

Do it!

Good morning, WA2K radio fans and contributors. I just looked at my calendar, and I KNOW today is Sunday. <smile>

dj, I see, Canada. You are doing the alphabet by band names, so some of us can do the theme by titles. Incidentally, what is bunker oil?

For the morning:





Baubles, bangles, hear how they jing, jinga-linga
Baubles, bangles, bright shiny beads
Sparkles, spangles, your heart will sing, singa-linga
Wearin' baubles, bangles and beads

You'll glitter and gleam so
Make somebody dream so that

Some day he may buy you a ring, ringa-linga
I've heard that's where it leads
Wearin' baubles, bangles, and beads

<instrumental>

Baubles, bangles, hear how they jing, jinga-linga
Baubles, bangles, all those bright, shiny beads
Sparkles, spangles, your heart will sing, singa-linga
Wearin' baubles, bangles, and beads

You'll,glitter and gleam so
make somebody dream so that

Some day he may, buy you a ring, ringa-linga
I've heard that that's where it leads
Wearing baubles, bangles, and beads

Stranger In Paradise

She:
Oh why do the leaves
Of the Mulberry tree
Whisper differently now
And why is the nightingale singing
At noon on the Mulberry bow
For some most mysterious reason
This isn't the garden I know
No it's paradise now
That was only a garden
A moment ago

He:
Take my hand
I'm a stranger in paradise
All lost in a wonderland
A stranger in paradise
If I stand starry-eyed
That's a danger in paradise
For mortals who stand beside
An angel like you

I saw your face
And I ascended
Out of the commonplace
Into the rare
Somewhere in space
I hang suspended
Until I know
There's a chance that you care

Won't you answer the fervent prayer
Of a stranger in paradise
Don't send me in dark despair
From all that I hunger for
But open your angel's arms
To the stranger in paradise
And tell him
That he need be
A stranger no more

She:
I saw your face
And I ascended
Out of the commonplace
Into the rare

Both:
Somewhere in space
I hang suspended

She:
Until I know

He:
Till the moment I know

She:
There's a chance that you care

He:
There's a chance that you care

She:
Won't you answer the fervent prayer
Of a stranger in paradise

He:
Don't send me in dark despair
From all that I hunger for

Both:
But open your angel's arms
To the stranger in paradise
And tell me that I may be
A stranger no more.

Alistair Cooke
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.


Alistair Cooke, KBE, (November 20, 1908 - March 30, 2004) was a journalist and broadcaster. Born in England, he became a naturalized American citizen, and lived in New York City with his family for most of his adult life.

Born in Salford, Greater Manchester, England, as Alfred Cooke, he legally added the name "Alistair" at age 22. He was educated at Blackpool Grammar School and was awarded a scholarship to study at Jesus College, Cambridge, where he gained a first-class honours degree in English. As a graduate student, he went to Yale University and Harvard University in the United States for two years on a Commonwealth Fund Fellowship.

In 1935, back in England, Cooke became a film critic for the BBC and London correspondent for NBC. Each week, he recorded a 15-minute talk for American listeners on life in Britain, under the series title of London Letter.

Cooke returned to America in 1937, this time for good: he became a naturalized citizen of the United States in 1941.

Shortly after emigrating, Cooke suggested to the BBC the idea of doing the London Letter in reverse: a 15-minute talk for British listeners on life in America. A prototype, Mainly About Manhattan, was broadcast intermittently from 1938, but the idea was shelved with the outbreak of World War II in 1939. The first American Letter was broadcast on March 24, 1946; initially confirmed for only 13 instalments, the series finally came to an end 58 years and 2,869 instalments later in March 2004. Along the way, it picked up a new name (changing from American Letter to Letter From America in 1950) and an enormous audience, being broadcast not only in Britain and in many other Commonwealth countries, but throughout the world by the BBC World Service. In 1991, Alistair Cooke received a special BAFTA silver award for his contribution to Anglo American relations.

In 1947, Cooke became a foreign correspondent for the Manchester Guardian, for which he wrote until 1972. (It was, incidentally, the first time he had been employed as a staff reporter; all his previous work had been freelance.) He has also served as foreign correspondent for The Times.

In 1968, he was yards away from Robert F. Kennedy when he was assassinated, and was a witness to the events that followed.

In 1971, Cooke became the presenter of the new Masterpiece Theatre, PBS's showcase of quality British television. He remained presenter for another 22 years, retiring from the role in 1992. He was a well-known figure in this role, and was the subject of many parodies, including "Alistair Cookie" in Sesame Street's "Monsterpiece Theater" and, arguably, Leonard Pinth-Garnell in Saturday Night Live's "Bad Conceptual Theater" etc.

In 1973 Alistair Cooke was awarded an honorary knighthood (KBE). However, he could not be called "Sir Alistair" since he had relinquished his British citizenship.

Alistair Cooke's America, a 13-part television series about the United States and its history, was first broadcast in both Britain and the US in 1973, and was followed by a book of the same title. It was a great success in both countries, and resulted in Cooke being invited to address the joint Houses of the United States Congress as part of Congress's bicentennial celebrations. Alistair Cooke said that, of all his work, Alistair Cooke's America was what he was most proud of; it is the result and expression of his long love of America. (Cooke was once asked how long it took him to make the series. "I do not want to be coy," he replied, "but it took 40 years.")

On March 2, 2004, following advice from his doctors, Cooke announced his retirement from Letter From America - after 58 years, the longest-running speech radio show in the world.

Cooke died at midnight on March 30, 2004 at his home in New York City of congestive heart failure. He had been ill with heart disease for some time.

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