Almost three decades ago, a new pop station transformed the radio market around my hometown in southwestern Virginia. It quickly dominated the ratings and began leaving its imprint all over the landscape, in the form of personality-fueled DJs, wildly popular remote broadcasts and a regionally focused mix of music combining national hits with Southern rock and a smattering of local artists. A lot of people loved it, just as many loathed it, but no one could deny its impact on a fast-growing region that, for the first time, had a state-of-the-art pop station that nonetheless sounded little like its counterparts to the north or west.
The station was WXLK-FM in Roanoke – K-92 to you – and its rise to dominance was a phenomenon the likes of which we’ll probably never see again … not since Congress conspired with Clear Channel, Cumulus and other budding radio conglomerates to practically destroy local radio 15 years ago. I’ve been thinking a lot in recent weeks about K-92 and the lost radio culture it represented, thanks to a confluence of events that has left an unlikely earworm chewing up my gray matter. I know it’s not exactly cutting-edge to bemoan the consolidation of radio, but it’s worth looking back occasionally to remember the regional focus that has been obliterated as music programming has become homogenized nationally and local disc jockeys have lost their status as tastemakers.
But first, about that confluence of events: About a month ago my wife and I finally got serious about the need to replace her leased car, and she decided that she wanted the replacement to be a girlish red convertible – a real midlife-crisis car, female division. At about the same time, my Popdose colleague Jason Hare posted a typically delightful Chart Attack column, during which he betrayed his obliviousness to the car-color references in Lou Gramm’s awesome 1987 hit “Midnight Blue.” As I lamely attempted to school him in the many shades of rural/suburban car culture – while trying to track down the perfect bright-red vehicle for the wife, a process that eventually led to a dealer 200 miles away – the earworm struck. (more…)
