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KTUH FM Honolulu - Alumni
Summer 1997
First published in 1997.
Notes from the General Manager's Desk
Frank McPherson
As the new General Manager for KTUH, I didn't really think about this aspect of the job. Despite numerous and sometimes illegal thoughts, I finally picked one to pontificate upon: Insanity. However, our Promotions Director, Stephan Robley reminded me not to pick a subject so personal. So, I decided to write about the bright future of KTUH.
There are many exciting happenings within KTUH. In the near future, KTUH is looking to increase our broadcast power to 3,000 watts. It's been a long and hard battle but there is light at the end of the bureaucratic tunnel. When we finally get our long awaited power increase, you, our faithful listeners, can expect to tune us in all over the island, not just in isolated pockets.
KTUH is also going to run our annual radiothon in early October. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, KTUH tortures a DJ a day for seven days by depriving them of sleep for 24 hours, in a hoping that listeners will donate to the future of college radio.
In closing, thank you for listening to us. We hope that you will keep listening to KTUH, like the Jeffersons we're movin on up! If you would like to contact me please feel free to call me at 956-7431 or send a fax at 956-5271.
KTUH Picks
Motley Crue - Generation Swine
The good news is Vince is back in. The bad news is "why?" Following the lead of Metallica, former metal gods who've proven themselves mortal, the Crue has cut their hair to a manageable length and gone 'yen x'. Perhaps like Samson of old, their power was in their hair and now they sound like a bad alt-rock cover band (think The Wave). They even manage to mess with their classic anthem Shout at the Devil by remaking it into a '97' version. The idea worked on Decade of Decadence with Home Sweet Home but instead of using modern technology to enhance the song MC have gone grunge when the genre itself is tired. Songs like Brandon, Tommy Lee's cheesey tribute to his infant son, only seal their fate as living rock history Catch them opening up for Pat Benetar and REO SpeedWagon in this summer's Can't Stop Rockin 'Cause I Gotta Pay The Mortgage On This House I Shoulda Bought All My Drug Money '97' Tour.
Faith No More - Album of the Year
I like this album. I like it a lot and you probably will too but I don't think you'll see or hear much of it unless you buy a copy Faith has gone the way of many other cutting edgers of the late 80s, into utter obscurity FNM doesn't fit into any current radio or video categories. Too hard and dark to be modern rock and too new to be classic rock. Not Mtv and definately not VH1. KTUH may be the only place you'll hear it and that's a damn shame because the album rocks. More groove oriented that albums past it has creepy, ethereal feel. Imagine the bastard love-child of aTool/Blind Melon union. Collision, Mouth To Mouth and Path of Glory all get the juices flowing.
Red Session - R.Roan's Wee Thyme
It doesn't matter what I say (no really), buy the cd and see them live! I've seen them a dozen times and I'll see them again. They're not my favorite but they are definitely a quality act. If you don't support local music don't complain about it. The disk does seem to have a couple of engineering flaws. It sounds like a record, with much less dynamic range than you'd expect a cd to have. Then again they don't exactly have the budget Van Halen does.
Primus - Brown Album
New drummer. Still sounds like Primus. Nuff said.
Hoouerphonic - A New Stereophonic Sound Spectacular
You'll be listening to this album and thinking, "I've heard this someplace before...maybe." Sounds like Lush or New Order or maybe a soundtrack from some movie you saw. The whole album is cozy and familiar with elctronica overtones and a natural beat (real drums). Nothing revolutionary but if you're gonna have a root canal this will make you think happy thoughts.
Radiohead - Ok Computer
Got a lot of down time on your hands? Broke-up with your significant O? Got a case of bad scotch and some Alice B. Toklas brownies? This is the cd for you. Radiohead has out done themselves in spawning a somber mood shaping work that Morissey only wishes he made. But, OK computer's magic is that the grim tone is not a stodgy producer's trick but the product of a dark concept album. Radiohead has been reading a lot of George Orwell and watching THX-1138 on cable again. Their commentary on modern society's inner confusion, paranoia and obsession with electronic gadgetry is genius. Subterranean Homesick Alien and Karma Police are stellar. I'm gonna put my neck on the line and say this is the best non- electronica album this year.
Viva Mexico: A KTUH Staffer Samples the Unique Nightlife of Rosarito Beach, 25 Miles South of the Border
Stephen Hart Robley
The poolside lounge at the Rosarito Beach Hotel has ghosts in it. Back in the thirties, when it served the Hollywood elite who came south to gamble their money and buy anything or any one they wanted, a place where the concierge knew your name and the bartender knew your drink. Now it competes with the circus of hotels and nightclubs that have grown up around it. It's hard to imagine Clark Gable or James Cagny there now. The walls need paint; the once vivid rugs are worn and the atmosphere is filled with pressure to sell trophies and trinkets to the low rent tourists, snowbirds and college coeds that are its life blood. Duty-free perfume, cigars, t-shirts and timeshare condos are all up for grabs in the lobby. The bar serves drinks that the contemporary clientele want they all have little umbrellas.
The building still has ghosts in it. Pale and weary travelers looking for a good time.
"We're gonna party like jaded rock stars tonight," Kevin says, "Just like the old days."
Kevin is an astute observer. One of his gifts is to know what kind of an occasion is called for Black tie affair or just beers out of a brown bag in the park. After 17 days chasing waves around Baja and catching a chill most of the time, I must agree. We'll end the trip the right way, the only way.
"You're wrong," I said. "We're gonna party like eccentric millionaires pal: John Dupont style. Complete delusions. Tell Edgardo to keep 'em coming."
Edgardo, our white-haired waiter, brings us another round of Draculas, an amusing preparation of vodka, Kahlua, mystery juice, ice and more vodka.A five dollar tip and a telling nod might get us the location of the 'real' party, one involving a donkey, two pounds of animal tranquillizers and a band of mariachis. However I know this night will come much easier than that. All we have to do is wait for sundown, when the vampires come out to drink virgin blood and sip cappuccino in the late night coffee bars that are now beginning to infest Baja California.
Rock & Roll Taco is a budget ripoff of the Hardrock and a local favorite called Papas & Beer. However, the establishment follows the 6th Commandment of Mexican Cantinas: Originality can always be replaced by brutally loud music and cheap beer. The place is jumping and the mix of 18-year-old college girls and 40 something two-time losers has an austere seriousness all its own. Cigar smoke and booty music saturate the moist, salty air. The floor has a mixture of sand and spilled red wine on it; or at least I think that's wine. They dance the Macarena yes, but has anybody died in here recently?
Ron y cola is the lubricant of choice this evening and what the bartenders lack in finesse they make up for with blazing speed. The drinks are ready before I can figure out the exchange rate and when I ask for a lime the barkeep hacks a big, yellowish one in two with a cruel looking blade. He drops an entire half in the cocktail and grabs my hundred peso note with wet hands. A large tip is in order, anything to keep the machete away from me.
"The real party is in back," Kevin says.
Behind the bar is a lounge and an outdoor pool that are closed to regular patrons. Frenzied dance tunes are booming from speakers the size of coffins. People are singing aloud in Spanish and English and dancing on tables. Booze, in all its denominations, flows like water Kevin's eyes are wide like a bombardier who's sighted the target. Having clarity in your life is important and I knew immediately where I was going to end up this night.
"We're there," I said.
Two Mexican bouncers are turning away anybody without a wrist band for the employee's bash. Four of our nation's finest get denied right in front of me even though they profess to know one of the employees. A three minute discussion by their drunken platoon leader yields no results and they walk back to the bar mumbling profanities and racial slurs under their breath. These cretins obviously don't know that money talks in Mexico and everything else walks. They're the type of marks that street vendors eat alive.
Gauging the bribe is a fine art south of the border. Nobody wants to part with more than they have to but too small an amount might cost you double in the end. I stand near the entrance for a few minutes thinking about it. A bush league Indiana Jones wondering how much sand is needed to steal the golden idol. Three bucks. Three bucks folded into a tight rectangle in the palm of my hand. Kevin hangs closely behind, ready to follow if we get in.
"Hola amigo," I say, with a friendly smile. Extending a hand to shake his, I flash the green and my palm is met with a light squeeze. The tender is exchanged. The bouncer starts saying that this party is closed but he looks sideways, moves his leg slightly and lets us slip by into the darkness.
The following moming will attest to the prudence of moderation but tonight, we're Canaanites partying with apocalyptic glee. We saunter at table top level for the rest of the evening to the sounds of Wooly Bully, The Fugees and yes, the Macarena.
Mute Voice Staff: Stephan Hart Robley, Editor; Vivian Chow, Copy and Style; Cedric Duarte, Grid Assistance
