I just got a very nice mes­sage from our old and long-unseen friend Greg Lyon, ear­ly mod­ernist, wry North Car­olin­ian, and above all, hip priest.  Greg DJ’d a free­wheel­ing and bril­liant radio show at WPRB in Prince­ton, with just the kind of style-explod­ing rel­ish for beau­ty in any shape, spec­trum or con­for­ma­tion that this blog exists to cel­e­brate.  The show, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, has moved, along with Greg, back to his home­town of Asheville.  I’m glad he’s still on the air.

Adri­enne and I owe Greg thanks for our evenings sprawled on the couch at his place, his lanky self hunt­ing for one record­ing after anoth­er.  Years of explor­ing have fol­lowed.

More recent­ly, when half of Live Labs was in the Smith Tow­er, I met some­one named Ari Lazier.  He seemed inter­est­ing and wry in a strange­ly famil­iar sort of way; we start­ed talk­ing.  At some point he picked up my iPod and began scrolling through the music with mount­ing sur­prise.  “You’ve got lots of good stuff on here!”  Mean­ing: The Fall, Peter Brötz­mann, Art Bears, Can, Bob Log III.  It turned out that Ari had put in time at WPRB too.  So!  There’s a school of at work here, and its fin­ger­print is this par­tic­u­lar con­stel­la­tion of often great, some­times odd, usu­al­ly obscure music, inter­linked by the eclec­tic lis­ten­ing cul­ture at WPRB.  Then, like dan­de­lion seeds, the WPRB crowd drift here and there, to New York or Asheville or Seat­tle, bring­ing their musi­cal DNA in their record col­lec­tions and iPods, ready to infect the curi­ous.  Ari intro­duced me to some new things too, many of which were love­ly, like the haunt­ing Fushit­susha, and Ter­ry Riley’s Rain­bow in Curved Air (the title alone is a gem).  Some were so pre­ten­tious that I couldn’t make up my mind about whether they sucked or not, as I’ll now attempt to illus­trate xkcd-style:

Greg, I’ll post some dis­cov­er­ies from the past sev­en years soon. You’ll prob­a­bly already know about them all, but a stu­dent can always dream of sur­pris­ing the old mas­ter.

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