I Am So Popular: Open Letter To Jody Denberg

At last Sarah got up and said something about how being the center of such attention was like getting the joy of being at her own funeral—hearing all the great things people had to say about her with the bonus of her being alive to hear it. That made me wish we all got to have some sort of pre-funeral where we can appreciate how much our friends appreciate us. And so, though it provides cold comfort at best, I am taking your leaving as an opportunity to recognize the gift you are to Austin while you have a chance to hear it. And I hope that—as the kudos for what you’ve done and the regrets that you’re going away come pouring in (as I’m sure they already are)— these sentiments will serve as a salve for any residual sorrows that might be visiting you right now.

So let’s see—how is it that I came to love your work? I recall the love started out, as love sometimes does, on a bumpy path. I got here in September of ’91—I think that was just after KGSR took to the airwaves. I really dug the station. So a few years later, when SEVENTEEN magazine asked me to do a piece about cool radio stations across the country, I contacted you to see about writing up a little something about KGSR. And your response was a very curt (to my ears) no, because, you said SEVENTEEN wasn’t your demographic. Between the lines I also thought I heard some (in retrospect possibly non-existent) snobbery, some suggestion I was an idiot for not getting that, a fool for asking in the first place.

That felt like such a condescending slap, Jody. Being uber-defensive, I wanted to tell you to fuck yourself and demand that you see that my desire to include your station in that article was rooted in admiration, not born of idiocy. But I said nothing. I did, on the other hand, try to shift you over to the Grudge List. See, I’m a grudge holder from way back. Way back. As in centuries. I’ve got Irish blood on both sides, and it’s not called IRE-land for nothing. So what probably didn’t register as a blip in your life made me want to be perpetually irritated with you, to ban you and your station from my life.

But my god! How difficult you made that! Because I have to say that, despite your rejection of me, I could not deny what prompted me to contact you in the first place—you, Monsieur D-berg… you put together a fine radio station! Mighty, mighty fine. Far too fine for me to sustain my grudge for long.

So I kept on listening. And I realized, with a few exceptions—like, go ahead and shoot me but I am just never going to get SRV— that maybe 90% of the time, I just adore your taste in music. I’d get so into it that as Select-a-Set weekends approached, I’d submit lists not just because I loved the songs, but because I wanted to see if I could get your attention. Pick Me! These entries shouted. Look at how similar our tastes are! (And once, you played my Select-a-Set early on, to kick off a whole weekend, and I felt totally chosen. I can’t even remember the whole set now, but the theme was “math” and I’m thinking maybe it included Aimee Mann singing One is the Loneliest Number, and Elvis singing Less than Zero, and perhaps Nick Lowe belting out One’s Too Many (and a Hundred Ain’t Enough.))

On the other hand, I must confess that for years—like about sixteen of them—I just could not get behind you and that Beatles fanaticism of yours. I had a nickname for you then—I think I called you “The Other Fifth Beatle.” And that tagline? KGSR, Where the Music Comes First? I changed it to, KGSR, Where Jody Denberg’s Belief He is the Other Fifth Beatle Comes First. (As you can imagine, when-- during this time of my nickname for you—I heard you sing a Beatles’ song at the wedding of mutual friends, I about peed my pants.)

But then a funny thing happened. I was getting divorced for the second time, and it was hell. Dear Prudence came on the radio one day during that time, and for the first time in my life, I actually heard the lyrics and freaked out at how they touched me. It was then that I “discovered” the White Album, which fast became the perpetual soundtrack bolstering me through that awful time. And as I listened to Dear Prudence, sometime thirty times in one day, all those years of Beatle-resentment I’d developed courtesy of my brother’s fixation on that band, and his insistence on playing their records over and over and over—which drove me mad—well all that dissipated. And I got it. I really got it. And so we connected some more, you and I, and I came to understand this love of yours, and how it could never die, and I loved it too.

Over the years, you also helped me personally, prompting still more gratitude. You spread the word, on-air, about the NAKED calendars I produced. You let me come to a lot of lunchtime concerts, which was particularly awesome during SXSW, and boy I’ll never forget meeting Mick Jones. And I know you also helped so many local musicians get airtime, in turn helping the rest of us discover them. You kept it local, no small feat in this era of corporate bullshit. For that you deserve a big, fat shiny award.

Then the other week, I had what now feels like a moment of full circle. I emailed to ask you to let me write about you for a new gig I have, writing a blog for JetBlue about all the cool people/places/things in Austin. And—as you had all those years ago, you rejected me again. This puzzled me, but you were very nice about it. I had no interest in a grudge, and did not take this second refusal personally. I just figured you were busy or shy or something. Now, though, since I heard the news, I’m guessing you knew then you were leaving, so maybe that’s why you said no.

If I have not yet made it clear, let me say for the record, I am shocked—SHOCKED that you are going. And selfishly dismayed, though I know you say you’re looking forward to it. This is worse than David Lee Roth leaving Van Halen. This is sadder than peanut butter abandoning jelly. I don’t care if the new station manager stands on his/or her head and spits purple Chiclets and offers me a regular spot to read poetry on air about my Boston Terriers. IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME WITHOUT YOU MAN! You ARE KGSR.

So I just wanted to tell you, in public, THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH for all the awesomeness over the years. And please know this is not merely retrospective appreciation—I always knew, and never forgot all along, even during that little grudge thing, just how lucky we are to have the station you so carefully and lovingly built.

Oh and one more thing? You know, if you really have to go, I find your imminent departure beautifully timed. Because this is Thanksgiving time, aka time for yet another one of those brilliant KGSR Broadcast Volume compilations you put out to raise cash for the SIMS Foundation. Best record of the year, and another way you gave so much to this town’s musicians.

Here’s wishing that your declared year off from everything will be full of calm and joy and some soon to be discovered heretofore unknown Beatles recordings.

Again, thanks.
Your fan,
Spike

Spike Gillespie is pretty sure this is going to go down as one of the most tumultuous years on Austin radio history. She blogs at www.spikeg.com, KnitBuzz, and-- brand new people, check it out, for JetBlue: JetAustin.