"I listened yesterday. It's no reflection on you but I could'nt see where you were going or what you were going for. This early seventies thing did'nt get noticed the first time and you talk about friends of like Dealney and Bonnie who had records out like we're supposed to remember who they are. Then you play this long winded free jazz stuff that really grates on my nerves. And that noise without a beat and sounds like someones being pinched. Then you play a reggae song, I think you called it Dub, to what, be cool? You seem to really fetishize the whole folk thing too which is obnoxious to us who don't even care. I liked it when you played that punk song though. I like Joe Belock a lot."

I never miscue a record. I am punctual, well-prepared, and dislike clutter. Outgoing and helpful, I'm always appropriately dressed. I do not behave erratically and have excellent penmanship. My CD's never skip, and I am in good health. I like all the notes, in any order.

Female-fronted pop from the past, present, and future; from all over the globe. And the occasional man.

Polkatively Yours...

Hip-hop and rap, that's where my heart's at. But I'll play anything so long as it ain't crap!

One hour; 23 or 24 soul 45s.

The run-around drill sergeant of love meets the freeform radio nurse in an international popularity crisis. Twang, dub, noise, rockers, aliens, drum machines, foreigners, imported goods, songs, rumbles, hollers, blips and squiggles, along with an occasional musical number.

A yurt for the transgenred.

Fake punk, rap for listeners, and the sound of a car rolling gracefully into a tree.