Radio intervenes and interrupts, bores and excites, tickling the ear while annoying the neighbors. Broadcast is an expansion of spatial circumference and a pulling in of multiple points of reception. Radio in this way is always unapologetically public and intensely private: it inaugurates communities at each instant of transmission while remaining forever alien to those who listen. It is trauma and therapy all in one — it is emitted sound and its acoustic mirror-reflection coming back to haunt us. It is money on the air and state control taking charge; it cashes in while offering up.
people to send in their “radio memories” — of songs
overheard at special moments of their lives — led me to wonder:
are such memories partially created by the songs themselves, rather than
being strictly supplements to them? In what way does radio play a part
in leaving marks on the psyche? And what may a catalogue of radio memories
reveal about the musical-social landscape?
at Archipel Festival, Geneva
at Cafe Nöö, Halle Germany as part of Radio Revolten