Nostalgia hurts

I stopped listening to the radio once the internet came along. I think once I wasn't living on my own and had other stuff to entertain me, I didn't see the point. It's not like you need an actual radio anymore, but it's the music and the presenters these days who've put me right off.

I loved the old presenters on the one station I bothered listening to. Before it was broadcast in our country town, we had to live with commercial radio, and I'd be up late with my radio playing quietly, stupidly hearing the Pina Colada song so often I know it pretty well. It was just noise. But by 1997 we were able to pick up the only rock station with any remote credibility. It was the same station that told me Phil Hartman had died in May of '98, the same station that let one third of the Doug Anthony All Stars and a weird comedy performer present their breakfast show. We liked the music they played, it wasn't a commercial station and we had it on most of the time we weren't listening to our own albums. But the best thing was this was all pre-social media, so we didn't have the unwashed masses tweeting or hashtagging direct to the presenters. You had to hang on the line to make a request or answer questions. You had to fax and mail entries for competitions. There was some control and no instant gratification. Now if I choose to listen to this station I have to be prepared to put up with over-excited presenters who sound really insincere. I have to listen to the unwashed masses if they have an opinion. And I'm only here for the music. They're replaying 1998's Hottest 100. So I'll have to tune out the speaking interludes of them discussing the compilation album cover art or to other's nostalgia over certain songs.

I just showed up for the playlist.