World-Class Suckage in San Francisco II
It’s no secret that I do a lot of traveling. Mostly to Europe. One thing which has always impressed me by the great cities of Europe is the sophisticated understatement in which cities (figuratively) drape themselves. Unless there’s an Olympic games at stake there’s very little trumpeting and boasting; there’s just no need.
Trumpeting how “world-class” you are is akin to wearing a tee-shirt that says “I’m great in bed”; if you weren’t compensating for something you wouldn’t be needing such a thing.
Where’s this rant going? Well, I’ve heard KFOG radio describe themselves as world-class just once too many (while at a friend’s house, this evening). In the old days, when Boston was having similar problems, I gave up on commercial radio because – despite protestations to the contrary or the rare A-Z through the catalog – a very small number of songs are recycled ad nauseam. We in the real world call it “payola radio”. (Boston’s eclectic radio stations have one by one been bought out and now all play the same oldies format as you can “enjoy” in every major market.)
At home I can enjoy radio streaming across the Internet, or my collection of songs ripped from library CDs, but it would be really nice to have a radio station that knew about Dropkick Murphys or Manu Chao.
KFOG, you’re not that good in bed.