The comforts of Radio...
The photo is not of the radio in my filthy SUV.
The filth is thanks to the ministrations of the Dog.
The car’s interior is a dump of the Dog’s found & discarded sticks, bits of bark, slivers of wood, a rock or two, and, of course, dog hairs galore. My car’s radio is faced in a mock tortoise shell material long since faded into a dirty brown miasma. The contraption is unrecognisable as a radio were it not for the Scan and Tune keys. Thank God, they are clearly identified.
Since February, I have lived a lonely Lockdown with The Dog. Conversation is a bit lite and never exits past me giving him orders or praise. Treats follow both. Beyond the lack of chat, he’s OK company. The usual and consisting nominally of the ups & downs on the scale of Stupid Dog Tricks… his boundless enthusiasm in stealing my trainers… and assorted Weimaraner Shenanigans caused by their extraordinarily powerful DNA…
he scappated Lockdown a couple of days ago, while we were supposed to be heading to the Scuzzy SUV for a programed walk-in-the-woods but, the Dog took a hard right, bolted and disappeared. I waited. Normally, he comes back. We are very attached to one another. I had thought. I waited. No Dog. My mobile rang. A friend called to tell me the AWOL canine was in her sector at the Commie House’s parking lot, clear on the other side of the now busy SR 445 highway!!! Got in my SUV and drove over. No Dog. The friend pointed indicating the direction towards il Poggiolo. Drove around the village on the way. No Dog. Drove to the Madonnina, prime sniffing area every afternoon of our Lockdown Life together. No Dog. Drove to our other Lockdown walking spot on the way to Acqua Paradiso and its natural spring and where I had intended to run the creature to exhaustion. No Dog. Went home to fret. No Dog. And then, he appeared and just as quickly as he had disappeared. Out of breath. Reunited, we rested on the loggia. I, to intoxicate myself with caffeine, and the Dog with a doggie cookie of modest dimensions. The world still turns…. safely and confined.
The car and house radios are better company for, at least, listening to Human chatter which cannot be provided by one very spoiled Weimaraner. Italian radio is a combo platter. Mainly, because the Italians are audible multi-taskers. They are not happy unless there is variety, fun, constant Human exchange. Their radio stations are medlies of music, talk, information, gossip, games, jokes, news, call-ins and it’s instructive too… this last may brush against what many elsewhere would consider to be propaganda but, so be it. And, HELL!!! Everyone needed to hear over and over and over again: WEAR A MASK! WEAR GLOVES!! WASH YOUR HANDS!!! and STAY AT HOME, for the Love of God. Eventually, the Italians got the Lockdown Message and abided by the New Program. Mostly thanks to the radio.
Italians characteristically plug-in through the gift of the Human exchange, the Human voice, Human contact. They do read but current events are conversational. They have filters for it, I suppose. Radio is just one source. Shopping and hanging out at bars are two others. Through chat they are reminded about what entertains and discover what informs, reinforcing their traditions, customs and their indefatigable curiosity for the latest novelty.
This is not so much World of Radio in America, my former home country and since renounced due to late Breaking News… Portland, Oregon burns? White House besieged? Oh, goodie!!! Go for that man with the bad dye-job, please. COVID-19 spikes in North Carolina? Oh, dear. My Mother lives there… There’s hardly such thing as No Talk radio in Italy. Or, I’ve never found such a station. I must confess though, I haven’t really searched. I don’t like only music or, just chat. How dull. How can you enjoy anything if it’s unerringly all the same? Becomes a monotone. Numbing. That’s the impression of the Vatican’s Radio Maria… prayers, discussion, lectures, sermons of a sort and then, 3 minutes of a minuet by Mozart. Ditto for RAI Radio 3, the ex-Commie station of the three RAI was forced by law to maintain. Everyone got a piece of the Italian political-social pie back in the Good Ol’ Days. RAI 1 for Christian-Democrats, RAI 2 for the Socialists and, RAI 3 for the Commies. Each with their own distinct flavours of transmission. Radio RAI 1 was the safe, traditional bet, balancing music… no Heavy Metal, per favore… information and instruction in equal portions throughout the 24 hour day. RAI 2 was zippier, dipping their toes into the latest musical trends from America and the UK, probably for fear of being considered not-with-it… a hallmark of the Socialists!!!… and news commentary spliced in between the headlines and music. RAI 3 danced the gamut of taste and education. Classical music to groovy jazz and contemporary tunes, airing precursors to podcasts and at times you could actually listen to them, and the news from around the Globe. Now they have all melted together. I skip the lot.
My bias is for popular Italian radio. Italian music, a snippet of Late Breaking News which, pronounced in Italian comes out as, Laighttt Brekkking Newzzz, and the fun of Italian banter. I am in love with Radio Subasio. Its out of Florence but, the broadcast can be heard throughout Italy. The spot on the dial changes from one area to another. In Codiponte it is 98.7, when the Dog desists from pressing the Tune key while attempting to murder a fly. This is true of nearly all Italian radio stations.
Years ago, for il Poggiolo’s three residences, I went to a huge store in Sarzana… long gone by now… and bought three of the same Yamaha radio/CD players. Sadly, tuning can only be done with the remote and none work these days… damn-it. And yes, I’ve changed the batteries. Did not help. So, I am stuck with the default radio station of RDJ… Radio Disc Jockey. You can stroll into a bar and the big-screen TV will have RDJ on. A guy and a gal or, a gal and a guy, depending upon the hour of the day. One does most of the talking and the other laughs. All the women have annoying voices, varying from beginner truckers to baby-dolls with whiney yet, bubbly intonations. .Quite a feat. Sorry, ladies. Why men find these creature’s voices sexy is a mystery to me. One of the guys is a famous drag-queen. On Italian TV. A talent show. For RDJ, however, he’s out of drag. Distinctive voice though.
Subasio is my station. The music is weighted towards Italian. Nek, Raf, Diodato, Giorgia, Laura Pausini, Emma, Tiziano Ferro, Elisa, Marco Mengoni, Gianluca Grignani, Elodie, Cesare Cremonini, Zucchero… the only Italian whose voice and music fits the rhythm of Rock’n Roll… Alex Britti, Adriano Celentano…. the Italian Elvis Presley… Loredana Berte’, Francesco Renga, Gianna Nannini, Anna Oxa, Mina… the greatest of all Italian singers… EVER!!! Streisand = 7.2. Mina is a 10+!!!… Claudio Baglioni… who was a knock-out young and strummed a guitar and sang his tunes from the balcony of his parent’s apartment in Bologna to attract girls. He had NO PROBLEMS there… Carmen Consoli, Tiromancino, Ermal Meta… a cracker-jack singer-song-writer… Mahmood… who won the San Remo Music Festival last year and I think he is genius. Dottore You finds him icky. Oh, well… and Malika Ayane… who has done a wonderful rendition… though abbreviated… of Volare…
which brings me to the songs of Lockdown. Volare in all its versions was tops on any Lockdown playlist. Another, Il Cielo E’ Sempre Piu’ Blu, composed by Rino Gaetano, a genial jack-of-all trades… actor, song-writer, singer, cabaret personality… tragically killed in the late 70’s in a bizarre automobile crash, and his song has become The Italian Lockdown Song. Here’s Rino singing his classic…
And then, here are practically every popular Italian singer on the charts worth their pasta singing the same song to raise Moral & Money during Italy’s Lockdown. A Lockdown Hymn. The singers look a bit scruffy, but hey! They were all in quarantine. Give them a chance…
In between Lockdown songs, there were the games and call-ins. Some are a bit silly but the DJ’s know how to milk an item…
It came across the wire that George Clooney had hosted a dinner party… pre-COVID-19… at his mansion in Southern California to thank 14 of his oldest & dearest friends, who remained with him through the thick ‘n thin of his stunning career. Apparently, it was not an easy climb to stardome. At the end of the meal… what? champagne & cake?… 14 large suitcases were wheeled in by armed guards and each guest was handed one. Inside each was $1,000,000 in $20 bills, tax and fees paid for by Mr Clooney. Well, that was absolutely fodder for the Italian’s fascination with America and Americans, especially the Hollywood variety. They ignore what does not correspond to their fantasies, ie, that nut-case in the White House and Portland burning. Anyway, they have no idea where Oregon is. Fine by me. I did a five year stint there.
The DJ’s asked the listeners to phone in a story of an unexpected gesture of thanks. The response was overwhelming. None rivalled the monetary dimensions of Mr Clooney but, many did on an emotional level. The story I liked the best was a fellow waiting for his girl-friend to come home from the hospital after she had lost her father to COVID-19 wearing a mask & gloves and holding a bouquet of flowers for her. The girl-friend called-in. Touched the heart. The mine and the DJ’s included.
Just a smattering of Italian radio for you in the Era of Lockdown. More tunes & chat for you all.