Word: hear
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Lobstermen sometimes tune in to hear Geller's unslick rendering of a commercial for Nichols Candies, a local retailer. Despite all appearances to the contrary, WVCA is a commercial operation or, rather, a listener-supported commercial operation. "I average three to six minutes of advertising a day," says Geller. "The rate is from $32 down." Most of his operating costs are covered by $10 and $20 contributions, which he acknowledges individually on the air ("My thanks today to Beverly, to Topsfield, to Rockport . . . And now let's get back to the music"). Fishermen flipping the dial pause to marvel...
...this is not the sort of gem Stachiewicz is talking about. "When they were doing work near his old place on Duncan Street," Stachiewicz says, "he would turn on the mike so you could hear the hammering and he'd say, 'This morning Mac Bell has been hammering over at his shop, and I asked him to stop and he wouldn't, and it's driving me crazy.' Everything else is being homogenized, sanitized, deodorized. Simon is none of the above, and it's beautiful...
...considerable cost. Grandbanke, a partnership among several out-of-towners, wants to take away Geller's license and run the station the way everyone knows a station ought to be run. Gloucester would no longer have to rely on the 40-odd other stations in range to hear the weather, world and local news, what the Dow Jones is up to. It would be blessed with 60-second spots on "Wonderful Cape Ann" and a daily report "For Fishermen Only." And, of course, pleasant voices and a mix of tasteful music. Grandbanke has outlined Geller's deficiencies in a succession...
...strut and stomp. Jasmine Guy, a Diana Ross with funk, does proud by the Tina Turner anthem River Deep -- Mountain High. Laura Theodore works her heft, raunch and four-octave range on a rendition of Ball and Chain that could raise the dead, including Janis Joplin. And to hear Gina Taylor attack Aretha's Do Right Woman -- Do Right Man (four minutes of riffs that ascend into the ionosphere of emotional pride and pain) is to feel a standing ovation from the hairs on the back of your neck. "We're not trying to impersonate the singers," says Theodore...
...Beirut seems to discourage ruminations on style -- understandably enough. More to the point, no one who catalogs bloodshed and catastrophe wants to be thought of as one more vendor to the senses. Some news photographers spend half their lives chasing war, so who can blame them if, when they hear the word art, they make for the door...