Radio free Kehla

My poor, poor CD player is dead. I put a little sticky note on the front that said, "R.I.P. CD." It's the first CD player I ever had, it's black and shiny and it's roughly the size of a Volkswagen. \nFortunately, the radio and tape portion still work. I say "fortunately" because the death of the CD portion of the machine is affording me the opportunity to feel 14 again. I'm busting out the Ace of Base tapes and feeling good. Yes, they're Swedish, and yes, I still like them. They're still a viable band, you know. They're in the studio right now. Check their Web site. And I dare anyone -- anyone -- to not feel happy when "Beautiful Life" comes streaming out of their speakers. My reaction is usually somewhere between dopey smile and frantic dancing. \nBut aside from the resurrection of my love for Scandinavian pop music, I've re-fallen-in-love with the radio. I had actually missed it. I was putting on my makeup the other day and listening to the radio, and "Mr. Jones" by the Counting Crows came on. "Mr. Jones" is one of my favorite songs, but because I've never uploaded it to my computer from my copy of the CD, I don't listen to it as much as I'd like. When it came onto the radio, I truly felt like a kid again. There's something about unexpectedly hearing a song you love that makes me feel, just for a moment, very, very, happy. It reminded me of being very young and hearing my favorite Reba McEntire song on the radio. Yes, I used to listen to country music. Yes, I still do. No, I don't want to talk about it.\nBut better yet, after the Counting Crows song finished and the DJ yammered for a moment about an upcoming radio-stationed-concert, the song "Losing my Religion" by REM started to play. Another one of my favorite songs, kindly provided to me by the wonders of the radio.\nEverclear had a song a few years ago called "AM Radio." It goes, "I would listen to it all night long/Just to hear my favorite song/You'd have to wait but you could hear it on the AM radio." That's just what I felt like. If I had really wanted to hear these two songs, I could have turned on my computer, dug out the CDs that contain the songs, put the CD in my computer, waited for my music software to load, and then played them on the tinny little speakers that came with my computer. Instead, I gave it up to Divine Providence, and good ol' DP came through with a nice little lineup. After those two songs, I heard some Stevie Ray Vaughn. Stevie's not a favorite, but damn if I wasn't getting down as I put on my mascara. After that, there was some Snow Patrol. I had never heard of Snow Patrol, but I'm thinking I may love them now. I probably discover about a third of my music from stuff I hear on the radio. \nAnd this love of the radio isn't born of Luddite tendencies. I own a cool little MP3 player. It's small and black and pretty sexy. I have a portable CD player. (It's a Walkman and I've never had a single problem with it. It's battered and beaten and it sounds as good as the day I bought it. If Sony wants to thank me for this unsolicited endorsement, I would gladly take a ski vacation.) I have a pretty elaborate music collection on my computer. I have choices out the whazoo. \nThe point, I fear, is that at any point in my life, I can hear pretty much any song I want. I'm getting harder and harder to please. My life is flooded by choices. It's really kind of nice, sometimes, to have to simply give up and leave the choices to someone else, namely, a friendly DJ. I'm not, of course, suggesting that I'm going to give up my techie devices. When I need my Nancy Wilson fix, by God, I'm going to cue up some Heart on my MP3 player. \nBut sometimes, just sometimes, it's nice to flip on the old-school and hope, just hope, that I can hear a song I like.