10 SONGS: 1/31/2026

10 Songs is a weekly list of ten songs that happen to be on my mind at the moment. The lists are usually dominated by songs played on the previous Sunday night's edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. The idea was inspired by Don Valentine of the essential blog I Don't Hear A Single

This week's edition of 10 Songs draws exclusively from the playlist for This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 1321

THE LEGAL MATTERS: Stuck With Me

I've been corresponding with Keith Klingensmith of the Legal Matters since well before This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio went on the air in December of 1998. Let's go back to my supplemental liner notes for 2017's This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 for an edited recap:

"...Keith's name comes up a lot in the discussion of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio. Keith is one of TIRnRR's best friends; as a fan, as a listener, as a supporter, as a facilitator (Keith's on-line label Futureman Records curates the digital release of our TIRnRR compilations), and as a performer, Keith has been one of us from the get-go...

"...My first contact with Keith was in the '90s, via some online pop music connection--probably AOL, I guess. At the time, I was among several pop fans who participated in a weekly Monday night power pop chat group. I don't remember whether or not I specifically met Keith through that chat; I suspect it was more a matter (if not quite a Legal Matter) of Keith noticing a comment I made somewhere, bemoaning the fact that I couldn't find the Spongetones' Where-Ever-Land CD. Keith to the rescue! Some time later, Keith also provided me with a copy of Here To Observe, the truly hard-to-find debut LP by Springfield, Missouri's phenomenal pop combo Fools Face (Keith wisely kept a copy of the group's incredible third album Public Places for himself), and I'm pretty sure my copy of Artful Dodger's classic debut album came from our Keef...

"...Through Keith, I also met his partner in the Phenomenal Cats, Chris Richards. There's a wealth of cool music for ya. I mean, the Phenomenal Cats' cover of the Left Banke's 'I've Got Something On My Mind' made me appreciate a simply sublime pop song I'd somehow managed to mostly ignore up to that point. The combined and separate threads of Chris 'n' Keith wove through solo tracks by each, plus Hippodrome, the Pantookas, Chris Richards and the Subtractions, Keith Klingensmith and the TM Collective, and the Legal Matters, the latter a trio with Keith, Chris, and Andy Reed. The Legal Matters' eponymous debut was one of 2014's best albums, and follow-ups Conrad and Chapter Three rightly became the toast of the pop world...

"...Keith Klingensmith is an integral part of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio's story. Our online comradeship predates the show, and has continued unabated throughout the passing three decades. He's been one of our biggest supporters, helping to spread the good word of TIRnRR, sending fans and artists alike our way, contributing to our quixotic cause, and keeping previous TIRnRR compilations available as downloads via Futureman Records...."

So! Back in the present day: A forthcoming new Legal Matters album, Lost At Sea? Yes, of course we're playing it. To paraphrase Lenny Haise, guitarist for teen sensations the Wonders: We're playin' it, you're playin' it, we're ALL playin' it. And we move on to the album's latest single "The Message" on our next show. After all these years, Keith and his pals are stuck with us. It's a legal matter.

STYX: Everybody Raise A Glass

As an exercise in blogging, I often slap together fake TIRnRR playlists, imagining song selections for themed shows we're probably never going to do, but could. I'm considering the idea of constructing a pretend playlist comprised of sets by acts I didn't appreciate immediately, and in some cases still don't really like.

One such act would be Styx. My God, when I was in my teens and twenties, I absolutely loathed Styx, and time hasn't really mellowed my antipathy for the Styx stuff I hated the most. Mind you, even at the time of my determined loathing--unadulterated loathing--I made an exception for the pop bliss of "Lorelei," which I often cited as proof of my belief that even an artist whose work you generally despise might be capable of creating one track you love. And I kinda liked "Too Much Time On My Hands," as well. Overall, though, my distaste for Styx was greater than my disdain for the Eagles, the Grateful Dead, Southern Rock, prog, or disco, and possibly greater than all of those undesirables combined. The upshot of our story: I was not and am not a Styx fan.

That said, the phenomenal latter-day Styx track "Kiss Your Ass Goodbye" is an all-time TIRnRR Fave Rave, and there are a handful of vintage Styx tracks that I don't mind. I don't think the day will come when I have any use whatsoever for "Babe" or "Renegade" or goddamned "Mr. Roboto," but I concede that the Styx brand name doesn't necessarily have to prompt an immediate revulsion.

Yeah, y'know...not necessarily.

"Everybody Raise A Glass" is from the 2025 Styx album Circling From Above, and I heard it a couple of weeks ago on another can't-miss episode of The Spoon podcast (specifically on this episode). The men of The Spoon--Robbie Rist, Chris Jackson, and Thom Bowers--are Styx fans, but I love 'em anyway. And the track's winning and accomplished channeling of all things Queen makes it an irresistible addition to our own show's playlist. 

Even with the bands we don't like as much as some of our friends do, an open mind can unlock the doors of discovery. Raise a glass! Here's to the Men of The Spoon, and also to our old correspondent Kathryn Francis, wherever she is. Thank you, friends. Domo arigato. It's Styx, babe.

TALKING HEADS: Burning Down The House

Believe it or not, if I were to compile the above-mentioned playlist of acts that didn't appeal to me on first exposure, Talking Heads would be a contender. I revised my initially dismissive opinion of the group in relatively short order, and I remain grateful that I was able to witness a great Talking Heads live performance in the '80s. But in 1977, the first Talking Heads song I heard was their single of "Uh Oh, Love Comes To Town," and I hated it. I trashed it in an emeritus contribution to my high school newspaper (a piece carrying the sorta-familiar title "Groovin' [Like The Hip Folks Do]"); in retrospect, I realize I didn't like "Uh Oh, Love Comes To Town" because it didn't sound at all punk, which was what I expected and craved. I liked "Psycho Killer" better, and became a fan thereafter. I don't even mind "Uh Oh, Love Comes To Town" any more.

See? I can mature! Just...not usually.

THE HALF/CUBES: Whenever You're On My Mind

For the latest single from the Half/Cubes' fine current album Found Pearls, the lads enlist the aid of Robert Crenshaw and Tom Teeley to accomplish an exquisite rendition of Marshall Crenshaw's already-sublime "Whenever You're On My Mind." This little mutant radio show first played it as a then-unreleased teaser track last February, and I'm starting to believe the Half/Cubes' take edges out both our Marshall and the great Ronnie Spector as the definitive "Whenever You're On My Mind." They're all winners in my mind.

THE LITTLE GIRLS: How To Pick Up Girls

And they say ya can't learn stuff listening to the radio.

SPECTRAFLAME: Love Don't Live Here No More

Spectraflame's "Love Don't Live Here No More" makes its fourth consecutive appearance on the TIRnRR playlist. As it oughta! The single is now part of the group's new eponymous five-song digital EP, and it will rack up TIRnRR Spin # 5 this coming Sunday.

As it oughta. Love still has a home right here.

THE RAMONES: All's Quiet On The Eastern Front

From a previously-posted celebration of my 25 favorite Ramones tracks:

The 1-2-3-4! rules of our ABC format dictate that a list of my favorite Ramones tracks starts with its quirkiest selection. "All's Quiet On The Eastern Front" appeared on the Ramones' 1981 LP Pleasant Dreams, an album that doesn't sound like any other Ramones album. Pleasant Dreams was produced by Graham Gouldman, who achieved great success in the '60s as a songwriter for the Yardbirds, the Hollies, and Herman's Hermits, and subsequently as a performer with 10cc. And, as Johnny Ramone said in our interview, "The guy from 10cc producing the Ramones? 10cc sucks, and it's not right for the Ramones."

On Pleasant Dreams, Gouldman's production made the Ramones sound...I dunno, smoother than expected? Phil Spector had done something similar with 1980's End Of The Century, another album that doesn't sound like any other Ramones album. In Spector's hands, the bubblepunk purity of the Ramones got lost in his Wall of Sound; Gouldman turned the Ramones into a new wave pop band. Neither End Of The Century nor Pleasant Dreams is at the same transcendent level as the classic fist four Ramones albums that preceded them.

Ignoring the anomaly of this album's place in the larger Carbona-huffin' picture, though, I need to risk contradicting myself: Pleasant Dreams is a fantastic record. Fantastic. I know Marky Ramone liked it, and we've established that Johnny hated it, but the fact that it wasn't Rocket To Russia doesn't prevent it from being compelling in its own right.

Pleasant Dreams is loaded with great Ramones songs, from "We Want The Airwaves" to "It's Not My Place (In The 9 To 5 World)" to "She's A Sensation" to the superb album closer "Sitting In My Room." "The KKK Took My Baby Away" is the best-known of the bunch. Would the tracks sound better if Ed Stasium or Tommy Ramone had produced them? Possibly. They sound pretty good as-is.

"All's Quiet On The Eastern Front" was my immediate pick when I bought the album in '81, and it has remained so. It's the sprightliest song ever done about a serial killer, stalking the street 'til the break of day, a track delivered with decidedly un-Ramoneslike percussion, and with backing vocals from Dee Dee Ramone asking that musical question, Can't you think my movements talk? Hey, you unsuspecting soon-to-be victims: Pleasant dreams!

THE ISLEY BROTHERS: Shout (Part 1)

The Greatest Record Ever Made!

THE HIGH FREQUENCIES: Cleanup Time

From the High Frequencies' current album Get High, "Cleanup Time" has become one of my top go-to tracks of late. Invigmoratin'! And it plays here again on Sunday, within an added political context. In this country, it is long, long past cleanup time.

SORROWS: Cricket Man

Epic. Power pop greats Sorrows recorded their originally-unreleased farewell album Parting Such Sweet Sorrow in one single night's session in 1981. Decades later, this eminently satisfying record was rescued from the archives and at long last issued by the visionary Big Stir Records label in 2025. It was one of the best albums of the year.

"Never Mind" became our show's pick hit from the record--it was our # 15 most-played track in 2025--but the mic-drop moment is "Cricket Man," Sorrows' immense and heartfelt tribute to the recently-slain John Lennon. It takes TIRnRR a while to find sufficient airspace to accommodate a five-and-a-half-minute track in our short-attention-span format, no matter how utterly wonderful the track is. "Cricket Man" was worth waiting for. Nothing is Sorrow-proof, and "Cricket Man" provides a stunning salute to one of the prime architects of the music we love, and a stirring farewell from a great band deeply affected by the pop world the Beatles helped build.

Fab. Sweet. Unforgettable.

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I compiled a various-artists tribute album called Make Something Happen! A Tribute To The Flashcubes, and it's pretty damned good; you can read about it here and order it here. My new book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) is now available, and you can order an autographed copy here. You can still get my previous book Gabba Gabba Hey! A Conversation With The Ramones from publisher Rare Bird Books, OR an autographed copy here. If you like the books, please consider leaving a rating and/or review at the usual online resources.

This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, streaming at SPARK stream and on the Radio Garden app as WESTCOTT RADIO. You can read about our history here.

10 SONGS: 4/7/2020

10 Songs is a weekly list of ten songs that happen to be on my mind at the moment. Given my intention to usually write these on Mondays, the lists are often dominated by songs played on the previous night's edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. The idea was inspired by Don Valentine of the essential blog I Don't Hear A Single.

Although 10 Songs for 3/24/2020 already drew from what was then a fake playlist for a TIRnRR Isolation Edition, the fact that we've now actually done that show for real means it's time to dive back into that original selection o' tunes for 9 more songs (plus one repeat) from TIRnRR # 1019.

NEIL DIAMOND: Solitary Man



When I was in my mid twenties, managing a record store in Buffalo, people would occasionally tell me that I looked like Neil Diamond. I never saw the resemblance at all. But my hair was long, parted just so, and I guess that was enough to persuade a few mostly older customers (and, believe it or not, my mother) that I reminded them a little bit of the guy who sang those boring love songs on the radio. 

It was not a cool comparison for a rock 'n' roller to hear in 1985 or '86.

I don't remember whether or not I had any real appreciation of Neil Diamond at the time. I detested his '80s fare, "Love On The Rocks" and "Hello Again," "America," "Heartlight." I was an avowed pop fan, but I didn't view that stuff as pop like I envisioned pop; this was strictly middle-of-the-road, mellow. It was old people's music. I still don't have any affection for it. But some of Diamond's older records, from the '60s into the early '70s, were flippin' fantastic. If I didn't realize it when people were saying I looked like a Diamond, an understanding and embrace of classic Neil Diamond would come to me before long.

I mean, I definitely knew and adored the songs Diamond wrote for The Monkees, the hits "I'm A Believer" and "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You," the cherished LP track "Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)," and--my favorite--the then-obscure rarity "Love To Love." I must have known and dug at least some of Diamond's uptempo solo hits, like "Cherry, Cherry." But I don't remember for sure. By the end of the '80s, though, an offhand remark by my Goldmine editor Jeff Tamarkin drew my attention to Diamond's first solo hit, "Solitary Man" from 1966.

It was an incongruous connection. Jeff reviewed a record by an Australian group called Ups And Downs, whose 1986 album Sleepless included a cover of "Solitary Man." Jeff's review mentioned that Ups And Downs' cover of that song should make the then-reunited Monkees wish they'd thought of doing their own cover. And somehow, that reference clicked in my mind. I bought Sleepless, agreed that it was pretty good, but now really wanted to hear Micky Dolenz sing it instead. I am so suggestible....

Still, that weird progression was enough to turn me into a huge fan of Neil Diamond's original rendition of "Solitary Man," which has retained its permanent berth on my All-Time Hot 100 ever since. My book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) will include a Neil Diamond chapter, though its focus will be on "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" instead of "Solitary Man," because--let's face it!--I'm fickle, and anyway, an infinite number of songs can each be THE greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" may be the greatest, but "Solitary Man" is still my favorite.

And I swear: I looked nothing like Neil Diamond. People were weird in the '80s.

PAUL McCARTNEY: Hope Of Deliverance



My friend Rich Firestone recently mentioned this Paul McCartney track as a record that didn't mean much to him when it was released, but which now seems relevant and revelatory. If memory serves, I think I did like this okay at the time, even if I never thought it was a rival to, like, "Maybe I'm Amazed," nor even to "My Brave Face." I now consider it one of my 25 favorite post-Beatles McCartney tracks: 

"Much of McCartney's best work is buoyed by optimism. When it will be right, I don't know/What it will be like, I don't know/We live in hope of deliverance from the darkness that surrounds us. This track from 1993's Off The Ground delivers that promise, that hope, as well as anything you can conjure."

MR. ENCRYPTO: The Last Time [a cappella]

An important track in This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio's history, and in the history of the group Pop Co-Op. We had been playing tracks off the debut Mr. Encrypto CD Hero And Villain, and we'd been corresponding with Bruce Gordon. Who is Bruce Gordon? Well, let's just say that, like Clark Kent and Superman, you'll never see both Mr. Encrypto and Bruce Gordon in the same place at the same time. 

Anyway. In 2003 or thereabouts, Bruce sent Dana a mix of the Hero And Villain track "The Last Time" with just the vocals, effectively an a cappella version. A tease of that mix actually closes Hero And Villain. Dana played this mix on the show, and my jaw dropped. It was so great! And then I cursed, because I had just sent the master tracks for what would become our first This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio compilation CD off to Jeremy Morris at JAM Recordings; I would have added "The Last Time [a cappella]" to This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 1 right then and there, but it was too late to make that kind of change. We did wind up using the track on This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 2 in 2006, and it's one of the defining tracks in this show's long, mutant saga.

We love this track. We play this track. Somewhere in subsequent years, intrepid TIRnRR listener Joel Tinnel told Spongetones bassist Steve Stoeckel, "Steve. Listen to this," and played him this vocals-only mix of "The Last Time." Joel and Steve had started working together. Before long, they would also be working with Bruce. The addition of drummer Stacy Carson completed the line-up of this new group, Pop Co-Op. The Last Time? No. It led to The First Time, and all that's followed since.

JOHNNY NASH: I Can See Clearly Now


This is an edited excerpt from the Johnny Nash chapter in my proposed book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1):

In eighth grade, I came as close as I ever would to rejoining the mainstream. Sixth grade was awful. Seventh grade was worse. But eighth grade...! Eighth grade was an opportunity. I could see it so clearly...

...The radio was my truest friend. The radio played pop music both old and new, The Beatles and The Raspberries, Chuck Berry and Slade, Stealers Wheel, The O'Jays, The Hollies, The Kinks, Elton John, The Temptations, Sweet. Johnny Nash's "I Can See Clearly Now" seemed the song most emblematic of my hopes, my cautious optimism, my musical equivalent of an eye on the prize. The prize was elusive; I could indeed see all obstacles in my way, and all of the bad feelings didn't disappear, in spite of the song's promise. But I still believed in its blue skies. A bright sunshiny day? Why the hell not? Begone, dark clouds; I'm looking straight ahead.

I'm still hoping you'll be able to read that entire chapter, and the book itself, someday. When? That answer's not clear.

MARYKATE O'NEIL: I'm Ready For My Luck To Turn Around


My current theme song. Not in any real oh-woe-is-me! sense--I'm as okay as anyone right now, given all that's going on around us--but in a more general sense of...restlessness? This feeling predates the COVID-19 crisis, and is of far less importance or urgency; it's my disappointment that my Greatest Record Ever Made! book hasn't gotten anywhere yet. I quip (to myself) that the book isn't dead, it's in a coma. It may yet recover, find a home, and thrive. Or it may die. Until then, it's in limbo. I'm ready for that to turn around.

PINK FLOYD: Wish You Were Here


Amidst all the free time we supposedly have on our hands during this period of sequestration and self-quarantine, I'm somehow getting less writing done than I managed when I was working. You would think I would have at least finished off a first complete draft of my book by now, but I haven't even worked on it much. The Pink Floyd chapter is one of several in need of full attention, and I just haven't been able to focus on getting it done. I will. For all the doubts I've expressed, I very much believe in this book, and I'm still convinced that The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) is a worthwhile endeavor, and potentially one hell of a good book. It's on me to see it through to the extent that I can, and to determine a path forward from that point.

I was not a Pink Floyd fan, ever. As a punk and power popper in the late '70s and early '80s, the Floyd was as much The Enemy as anything out there, as much as The Eagles, and more than disco. I would not open my mind to even the possibility of me ever developing any interest in the drug-addled twaddle of Pink Floyd. I made an exception for some early Syd Barrett-era Floyd as I became aware of it, but otherwise? An emphatic no. I didn't need no education. When some friends dropped a needle on "Comfortably Numb" at a party, I felt like clawing my freakin' skin off rather than listen to it for the seeming eternity of its more than six-minute running time. SIX MINUTES...?! That's like FOUR Ramones songs...!

I'm not sure when or why this changed. I think it started when Barrett passed in 2006, and Dana and I decided to spotlight our Syd on that week's edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio. The spotlight included your usual early Floyd go-to tracks like "See Emily Play" and "Arnold Layne," and some solo Syd, but also two later Floyd tracks that were directly inspired by Barrett: "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and "Wish You Were Here."

I was suddenly swept away by both of these. For the first time in my life, I was interested in this brooding, self-aware head music, stuff I had previously rejected as humorless, pompous. I didn't become a fan immediately, and I'm still enough of a Pink Floyd dilettante that a single best-of CD is all the Floyd I'm ever likely to need. But I do need it. Even "Another Brick In The Wall." Even "Comfortably Numb." And especially "Wish You Were Here."

THE SMITHEREENS: Cigarette



The sheer ache of this song gets me every time. "Cigarette" is a track from The Smithereens' 1986 album Especially For You, and it's among the saddest break-up songs I've ever heard. Except that it's not even really a break-up song; it's a song about a parting of the ways, as a love that should have lasted years instead burns to gray ash way like one last lonely cigarette.

Cigarette, cigarette
Burning up time
Cigarette, cigarette
Watch the smoke climb
Cigarette, cigarette
Wasting away
Just like this cigarette
Our time is running down
Only one hour til you're leaving this town

The heartbreak within "Cigarette" borders on existential. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, maybe I'm feeling more than the song means to convey, but man, I just sense this...sadness at the periphery of my consciousness whenever it plays. It reminds me of life’s endless labyrinth of choices made, options declined, tears deciding which way they should flow, romance and happiness turning to smoke, turning to memory. It's a story I've seen, a story I've heard, at least second-hand, at least in imagination. In movies. In pop songs. One heart wants one thing. Another heart wants something else entirely.

Went to the corner store
Bought us another pack
Held my arm around you as we headed back
I tried to change your mind
Didn't want you to go
I want you more, it seems, than you could ever know

Devastating. Love and cigarettes. That stuff will kill you.

Smoked my last cigarette
Sat in bed for a while
Thought of your face and it brought me a smile

TALKING HEADS: Life During Wartime


In 1977, "punk rock" was considered a broad category of outside-the-box rock 'n' roll, and its expansive parameters embraced not just the angry clatter of The Sex Pistols and The Damned, but also the varied sounds of Blondie, Television, and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. It included Talking Heads.

A band that I did not like at the time. I bought their "Uh-Oh, Love Comes To Town" 45 blind, because in '77 sometimes the only way to discover new music was to take the leap, buy a damned record, and hope for the best. I would not have described this particular result as "the best." I hated the record, which reminded me more of KC and the Sunshine Band than it recalled anything remotely Ramones-like. Pfui. I liked "Psycho Killer" a little better, but it didn't prevent me from slagging Talkingb Heads in my first-published rock journalism piece, "Groovin' (Like The Hip Folks Do)." Man, that title sounds close to something else I know....

My opinion evolved. "Love Goes To Building On Fire" was the first Talking Heads track that I ever loved, as my expectation and understanding shifted away from a preconceived notion of punk's lines of demarcation. With Talking Heads' 1979 album Fear Of Music, the lyrics This ain't no party/This ain't no disco/This ain't no foolin' around/This ain't no Mudd Club/No CBGB's/I ain't got time for that now drew me to the song "Life During Wartime." 1980's "Once In A Lifetime" sealed the deal, and I enjoyed most of the group's popular favorites throughout the '80s.

TRANSLATOR: Everywhere That I'm Not


Yep, also from The Greatest Record Ever Made (Volume 1):

Remembrance of things past can spin within the grooves of pop songs both consoling and cautionary, unfading pictures of a heart not quite gone, mourning tributes to a cherished someone no longer present. By choice? By fate? Distance or mortality? Any of these, all of these? A shrug, a nod, a teardrop falling by itself. Moving on does not yet seem to be an option. Our own desperation to reclaim what's lost carries an inherent danger of reducing us to ash in a scorched place where love used to grow...

...The record is haunting, a visceral reminder of that awful sensation, that scornful laugh we think we hear as happiness evades us. But its thrill, its splendor is...well, maybe not quite cathartic, but almost. It's oddly reassuring, comforting in a way that seems unlikely but nonetheless...is. And still it remains a punch in the goddamned gut. You're in New York, but I'm not. You're in Tokyo, but I'm not. You're in Nova Scotia, but I'm not.  I thought I felt your touch, in my car, but no such luck. Impossible. Yet something makes us remember and believe, if only for a moment. 

UB40: Red Red Wine


On American radio in the early '80s, UB40's hit pop-reggae cover of Neil Diamond's "Red Red Wine" started out at the left of the dial. The single was released in 1983, and it made its way to alternative stations like Buffalo's great WBNY-FM, which was where I first heard it, and first fell in love with it. The members of UB40 have said that they didn't even know it was a Neil Diamond song, since they knew it from a previous reggae cover by Tony Tribe. 

As the single entered the Billboard Hot 100 at the beginning of 1984, it migrated from college radio stations to CHR, rubbing its formerly-alternative shoulders with the likes of Kenny Loggins and Phil Collins. Still a great record, in any context. Another round? Cheers, then.

For dramatic purposes, the role of a woman drinking a glass of red red wine shall be played by actress Jennifer Connelly

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This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.

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Hey, Carl's writin' a book! The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) will contain 124 essays about 124 tracks, each one of 'em THE greatest record ever made. An infinite number of records can each be the greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Updated initial information can be seen here: THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE! (Volume 1).