A River Runs Through It
My program director broke the news to me that the stream would be turned after the recent stay put up by congress. Great work you guys. You spoke, they listened, and they stepped up to the plate. But it’s far from over. It’s just a stay. Our station is ok for many overpowering reasons. First and foremost, we’re a radio station. We have 3 FM frequencies. But the drawback is that the internet stream, where 85% of my audience would listen through, was shut down 15 weeks ago. We rode the storm, and turned ‘er back on. It was great news. The only disappointment is that Aural Moon didn’t carry us as well Saturday night. Not because we didn’t want to, but because…more or less, we are taking the wait and see approach. I didn’t bother pegging my PD with getting Aural Moon back on board because; no one still knows what’s going to happen. This is just a stay. He knows how integral Aural Moon, besides our radio station, was in getting the gagliarchives big at an international level for this genre. But it’s best to just wait and see. I know a lot of you; mainly the AM faithful want to know. But honestly, I have no clue what is going to happen. Hey, at least it’s on. Let’s see what happens so we can get back to being at full strength. But I have to say this. I think it’s great that the RIAA thought no one would do anything. Ha. People in large numbers can be scary to a bully.
Bridge To Hammontonia
We decided Saturday to take a trip down to the Blueberry capital of the world in Hammonton, NJ. Hammonton is known as the ‘hub’ of south Jersey. Sitting between two major cities, Atlantic City and Philadelphia, is this unusually large town. Ton of history here as well. Blueberries are their thing among other agricultural milestones. Hammonton is just south of Batsto, Pleasant Mills, and Sweetwater nestled underneath the south edge of the Pine Barrens. This is a very tight knit town with a lot of vowels in the last names of their residents. It’s close. It’s Italian. Not to mention, the town holds many prominent Italian names. Back while Batsto was cranking out Iron for the War Of 1812, Hammonton was pretty much woods. With the occasional saw mill here and there. The most popular and well known was that of William Coffin’s. The story goes that William bought out his partner named John Coates, and then teamed up with John Haines.(hint Hainesport). These guys were quite popular. They later built a glass factory and had a general store along the Mullica in between Leeds Point and Camden. The name of the town is actually from William’s son, John Hammond Coffin. His other son was, Edward Winslow(yes friends, Winslow Township)Hammond. Just like everything else, the name evolved into Hammonton. A bit later, two guys from Philly, Richard Byrnes and Charles Landis began to sell tracts of land off. Central Avenue is where it all started. By the time the summer of ’54 arrived, well 1854, the Camden and Atlantic Railroad had its first run between Camden and Atlantic City. By ’58, the first train station was built which brought an overload of settlers. The English were the main settlers here. And as always with about any settlement then, there were blacksmiths, brick layers, carpenters, farmers and anything else you can think of in a budding town. This town actually was very diverse religiously as well. The town, which was part of Mullica, became Hammonton ‘officially’ in 1866. It was a party, too. They had this ‘convention’ so to speak called the The Grand Strawberry Exhibition, which more or less gave Hammonton its agricultural reputation. Before there were Blueberries, it was Strawberries and Sweet Potatoes that were the business there. And then at the dawn of the Civil War, came the Italians. In large numbers might I add. They all flocked to there including my mother’s family in the early 1900’s. They resided in Chesilhurst actually. But all of their business was in Hammonton. By the time the 1950’s arrived, blueberries became the big crop. But the story goes back to the 1930’s and the post depression era that made them the main crop. The 5 brothers of the Galletta family started with a mere 5 acres, and now in the 21st century have over 1300 acres. Because of these guys, Hammonton’s claim to fame is Blueberries. The town is special to me because, well it may sound weird, but when I drive through town, I can recognize all the faces without knowing anybody. Next to south Philadelphia, it’s the highest concentration of Italians in a single spot in the metro area. We stopped at the one time famous Sweetwater Casino. What a nightmare this was. I won’t make this mistake again. We get there, and although the design of the place was cool, that was about it. We get there to get some lunch. First and foremost, there were greenhead flies everywhere. Ok, it’s July. But still, do something about it. You have people sitting on your back deck. Get some damn citronella candles or something. Ok fine. Then, our waiter gives us an attitude. As if we were bothering him. No “Hello, how can I help you,” he just stares at us. So I go with the dozen order of clams, while my partner in crime goes with the BBQ chicken sandwich. Now the sandwich is supposed to feature Monterey Jack Cheese, BBQ sauce, and Bacon. So here comes the sandwich. A piece of cheese and chicken on a bun. I’m furious at this point because I say to him, “uhh, where is the BBQ sauce? The bacon?” He leaves without saying anything. What made me even more irritated was the fact that he is laughing and smiling with other customers but talking to us like we were foreigners. The green heads kept biting and I came to the conclusion that this place is a mere shell of what it once was. Oh and by the way, they never brought the bacon. Awful. Just awful. I would avoid that place. It was a big disappointment. I really didn’t want to tip. But was told, “it’s the right thing to do.” Screw them. DON’T EAT THERE. We left for dough at the local bakery for what was to become the best Pizza I have had in a while in a tied position with Innovator’s grilled pizza from a few months back. But this pizza was intense. Hot wing sauce with mozzarella, blue cheese, and of course chicken. The crust was thin and crunchy and left my stomach begging for more, while my butt begged to differ. It was off to Pemberton with the excitement of knowing there was a stream flowing. A big, healthy one.
Pasta and Gravy
I stopped at moms on the way for some chow. As always, my mom makes the best tomato gravy. Not sauce, only ‘medigons’ say that. After inhaling it, I cruised down to Pemberton with all windows off and life size bugs attacking me. Jbird was off, well kinda, and the show began 15 minutes before I even started. Emails, Instant Messages, phone calls……people were thanking me left and right. The only thing I was a bit worried about was the playlist. Because, keep in mind, I had no clue it was a go that we would be streaming. Look, I play what I play, but you want to lure the aficionados as well. And 80% were in the 85% of listeners I lost 15 weeks ago because of this RIAA/Copyright thing. So, more or less, I was happy yet, ‘cautiously optimistic’. I decided to open the show with the most ‘summery’ of all the fusion albums in Jeff Beck’s Wired. This album smokes. I never get tired of this album. Jan Hammer is phenomenal, Jeff Beck totally plays off this, Walden smokes and George Martin did a hell of a job producing. I played ELP’s Trilogy for the first time in ages. I searched my playlists for half a day and realized it’s been literally almost a decade since I played it. But as always I am pimping the new stuff. I featured a Porcupine Tree-esque new band called Abigail’s Ghost. Despite the Wilson/Barbieri overtones, no one jumped out for it. One listener from Philly said: “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just think it sounds like Porcupine Tree.” Other listeners felt the same way, but, to be honest, they all felt the same way about The Mars Volta, and they were #1 2 years ago in the top 100. It’s almost like….when listeners get irate about a new release, it’s a good barometer to use to play it again. Hey, that’s how Porcupine Tree became popular in the genre. No one was ready for something ‘new’. Eh, that’s life. I liked it, and I will play it again. I featured a new disc, well I should say the EP from Aziola Cry titled Ghost Conversations. Um…wow? This disc is great. It goes from ambient to grunging in the span of 20 minutes and is stunningly tight. This one is a huge step ahead of their debut. Kudos. I can’t wait to hear the whole new album. I featured another new progressive metal disc in Transmission. This was good as well featuring much of the same. Innovator turned us on to it, and even though I thought the vocals were a bit much, the sound, production, music, all get high marks. This is a disc that is getting a lot of attention right now. (I know John in Burlington liked it heh). By request we also tracked the recent release from Canvas Solaris titled Cortical Tectonics. This one is a big step from the last as well. The technical stuff is sure to please anyone who is a fan of prog metal/instrumental compositions. It’s not a ‘crunch crunch’ album. This is worth a look again if you passed by it. Stunning work. I also featured my friend Trey Gunn and his latest project Quodia. This disc is an adventurous spoken word album over introspective soundscapes. Trey teams up with Joe Mendelson of Rise Robots Rise fame. There is a cameo from one time band mate in Crimson in Pat Mastelotto in the track Thick And Thorny. It’s reminiscent of the ‘Projeckts’ that they were going through at the turn of the decade. Nonetheless, this is a new journey for me and one I liked, but others wanted more from. But, hey, it’s new, and it’s here. I also went into the vaults with my spotlight in recent weeks on Italian band Osanna. This week I went with Palepoli from 1972. What a great one. A mix between heavy guitar oriented rock at times with Crimsonian overtones. This is great stuff. The vinyl was mint, too. Loved it. Next week there will be more. I wrapped up the show and headed westward amidst flashing lights and moldy cheese. There must be warlocks nearby or just a bad cooling agent in the main fridge at Wawa.
The Boxer
When I moved out to my apartment in Christmas of 1998, my parents were welcomed with a new tenant in Callie. She was a husky and muscular calico cat, hence her name. But this wasn’t just any cat; this was one of the toughest cats in all the cats I have ever come to know in my life. She was from an alley in South Philly. She was born fighting. My grandmother had given her a home in her South Philly row home, but Callie was never quite ‘home’. She wanted to be out…be it fighting with another cat, studying her prey, owning her territory, or just looking for food. Truly a Philly cat. My grandmother did the best she could for her despite the circumstances. I mean, Callie was an alley cat. She wasn’t born to a vet or loving people that would instantly reassure her when she was born that she was safe. She spent her early life constantly looking over shoulder in hidden fear. Callie was brutal with her defense. She bit quite frequently for no apparent reason for no other reason than her own. It didn’t matter who you were. If she didn’t like what was going on, the cobra’s mouth opened, and there was bruising damage. She often sized up how she could inflict the most damage. She had to change her life to living indoors at my grandmothers. This was a culture shock to her. But still, she did the best she could for the early environment she was brought into. Then sadly in 1997, my grandmother passed on. While my grandmother’s house sat vacant in south Philly, so did Callie. My cousin would go and feed her, but never really saw her. As a matter of fact, no one really saw her. She hid from the world. They only knew she was still alive by finding cat terds from time to time. She wasn’t a kitten at this point, she was already 7. It was at this point that I was getting ready to move out on my own. Although it stressed me a bit to live on my own at first, my parents had a new pet that would occupy their time without having to worry about it coming home late or drunk. This was a good feeling. Well, until I found out she wouldn’t come out from under the bed. For days might I add. Finally one day, out came Callie, into the living room, a surprise to everyone….feeling safe enough to check out her surroundings. She was still rough around the edges the first few years. Another words, you really couldn’t ‘pick her up’ and caress her. She would attack you. She wasn’t used to affection that way. But in the span of 3 years, she would let you pet her and stroke her fur. But still, she was cautious with any of that. The first time Callie and I bonded was on the morning of 9/11. My parents were in Italy, and she was not used to being alone. So I decided I would spend some nights there to make her feel at ease that no one was deserting her. I’d wake up and see her watching me from the other side of the room as if to say, “Hmm, why are you sleeping in mom’s bed?” The morning of 9/11 had me calling the police at 3:54am because of the neighbor downstairs from my apartment a mile away had all the tell tale signs of having a stroke. And in the midst of me being in the phone explaining my concern for neighbor to the police that I had just left en route to my parents, Callie jumped on my lap, hugged me repeatedly with her face, and then curled up on my lap. I was speechless. I almost forgot the police were on the phone. Callie and I later became sparring partners. This is no joke. Callie could only take so much teasing before she used two weapons. Her strong left hook, and her cobra styled jaw. She had no problem using it at any time if she felt threatened. But as time went on, she was smarter than we thought. She was just a tough cat. She was intelligent; she just didn’t take any shit. But what made her so enticing is that, SHE would call ME out at times. It was time to play fight. Not many people could get away with what I got away with, with her. My parents even felt that way. When I came over at night after work, the look always on her face was, “try me”. But she always watched me closely. She loved my parents and let them know in many ways despite her roughness, in expressing it. She always looked at my father as if she had died and went to heaven. He was her initial savior that brought her home, so in her eyes, he was it. My mother to her was a sleeping partner, and a great source of comfort, especially in the final years. Callie was a fighter. No doubt. Yeah she unexpectedly bit here and there, but that rarely happened in the final few years. She accepted mom and dad as her symbol of safety, after having such a rough and tumble beginning to her life. She left her home, or what she knew as home, when she was only just a baby. Even in the company of a series of strangers, she pushed through. One thing that stayed consistent was her ability to fight. She was a boxer and could have topped any cat I ever knew. Mom and dad were finally ‘home’ to her. So over a period of 5 years, she had softened up a bit. The last few months, her weight began to drop, and she would confine herself to one spot in the place she now called home. But age was stepping in. She knew they loved her, but she didn’t trust her surroundings anymore. Her hearing went, her eyesight was going, and now, her appetite was too. I would visit on my lunch breaks to feed her, and try to playfully antagonize her. She knew she ‘wanted’ to spar, but she just didn’t have it in her anymore and I don’t think she even knew why. I could tell she was fading, but I didn’t have the heart to say it out loud to my parents, and to even her. Food even became problem when the end drew near. Then her yelping and howling couldn’t be fixed with roast beef or turkey anymore. My cold glasses of water that she spied from a distance weren’t want she wanted anymore, either. But, her foundation stood tall even in her final hours. She would fight the unknown tumors in her chest. Every time the pain became weakening and physically exhausting, she would start to lie down but then fight it and swing her whole body upright and got in the face of her faceless enemy. The southpaw refused to lie down. Callie fought death even in the end. But of course, death won in the 16th round.
So in the clearing stood a boxer, and a fighter by her trade.
And she carried the reminders of every glove that laid her down or cut her
till she cried out in her anger and her shame, I am leaving, I am leaving,
But the fighter still remains.


Yes, she still remains in our hearts.

Nearfest Weekend 2007

…And Then There Was One…
Yes, and yet again comes another Nearfest. I worked this one out the best I could under the circumstances dealt to me. Jack couldn’t go this year due to personal issues, George; well we don’t even know where he is at the moment, and Roger and Bob? They gave up years ago. So this year narrowed it down to just me. But of course not without issues. The Jeep noise I talked about in November was not the transmission at all. It was the differential all along. That combined with some axle problems brought the bill to about 1400$ from Flanagan’s. So, I was happy to hear from Rob that they would float me out on the hotel room till a few weeks and I could pay the bill for the room seeing that I was solo. Whew. What a relief. (you know I should never think everything is ok) So I gave myself enough time to pack and leave….prerecord the radio show back home to upload for the local audience, prep for the Kevin Feely driven Aural Moon broadcast Saturday night, and last but not least ‘finally’ enjoy some live music without any stress. This was clearly going to be the highlight of my weekend (Friday night). So I left with my brand new Jeep up I-95 packed with beer, clothing, equipment and music. I fell kind of quiet because I hated the fact I was going alone. Part of me loved it, yet part of me felt very incomplete with Jack and George. As much as I ride George when he WAS here, I missed having one of my lifelong music friends to my right. But as you read last year, things needed to change. Riding him leaves no room for fun on both sides. As I approached Route 378, Jan Hammer’s The First Seven Days provided the back drop for what could be, at least in my mind, the greatest weather Nearfest weekend has EVER seen. I rolled into Bethlehem by 6:30 and rolled into the Comfort Suites Hotel. As I approach the desk, the woman behind the counter goes “Oh, Tom Gagliardi, yes……you are supposed to pay….I need to have your credit card.” So I explained that Rob was supposed to have me floated out on the list, blah blah, etc, etc. Well that wasn’t going to happen. Why would I even be in the least bit surprised? All the years of…wait, I am so tired of even explaining this AGAIN. So I figured I would give benefit of the doubt that he had it taken care of. Meanwhile, Chad is calling me that my tickets are in his hands as he awaited me at Zoellner Arts Center. So, I have to get this cart to take my mountain of shit to room 413. Yup. 4th floor. So I get to my room, only to run right out of it and head to the theater. Meanwhile, I had leftovers from Melange Café in my refrigerator in my hotel that was going to be my fine cuisine for the night. So I scurried down to the Zoellner Arts Center to see Fusion Friday. The triple show was going to be hot. And I mean HOT.
That One Shot Of Magma Is Dripping On My Leg
The show started out with Magma’s off shoot, One Shot. One Shot has a pseudo Crimson feel that blew minds with their set. Granted, the band had some technical difficulties in the beginning of their set, but when they got rolling, they were heavy and hot. Hard to believe they are in Magma if you never heard of them before. One thing I kept watching during their set was bassist Philippe Buissonnet. I went outside to chug a beer and his bass was vibrating through the whole lobby. When all was said and done, despite the shortness of their set, I was pumped for what was next. Many people were disappointed that One Shot only got 30 minutes. I was satisfied. Then one of the bands I most waited for all year was the reunion of Danish progressive rock masters Secret Oyster. I have to honestly say, their set made me weepy. Claus Bohling was incredible, as was Karsten Vogel and the rest of the band. Wait, let me get this right, these guys have played maybe 5x since the reunion not too long ago? So, after 30 years these guys didn’t miss a beat? SCREW THE REISSUES. RECORD A NEW ALBUM! Well, wait, I like the reissues. Sorry. I ran to Ken to tell him this amidst me stopping myself to realize I am insane. Then comes the text message from Chad:
CHAD: Meet Me Backstage
TOM: Ok
As I approach the backstage, I have no all access pass yet, so I wait instead of barreling through the back like people have in the past. Chad meets me, we go backstage, and there is Jimmy Johnson, Chad Wackerman, and Allan waiting to take the stage. I look at Jimmy Johnson and say, “Dude, your bass playing makes me cry…” He responds with, “My bass playing makes me cry too..” We laughed for a minute until Kevin Feeley goes, “GO. GO. GET OUT THERE. BRING THEM ON.” Allan had already walked out on stage. The crowd starts. I then go out on the stage. And then, in my moment of happiness, I realized what it’s like to be a deer. The stage light was so bright, I couldn’t see anyone in the audience. Oh I heard them, just couldn’t see them. They cheered…that’s all I remembered. I know I said something….I just can’t remember. I walked off stage like I just did a shot of Adrenaline mixed with cocaine. I was super pumped at this point. I ran back to my seat and hummed along with every track I heard Allan pluck. There were some selections from IOU, Road Games, 16 Men of Tain, but I think what got me the most was the track Looking Glass. He seemed excited as well. Yeah, Allan may be humble and not take himself too seriously, but you could see his eyes during the in betweens and pauses….he loved it. He loved that they loved him. Bottom line. He friggin loved it. Anyway, at the end, I walked outside to talk to Claus of Secret Oyster and met his daughter who basically looks like him, only a girl. And that is not a knock, she was beautiful. She knew her dad’s music inside out, and then, when Claus walked up to talk some more, they both broke out into this alien Danish dialog and walked off. Wild huh? I walked back to my hotel room and was starving to death. I then walk in and begin my fine cuisine dining from Melange Café in Cherry Hill, NJ. I ate every left over there and had to contain myself from licking the bowl. It was a stuffed Filet Mignon and a life size crab cake. I relaxed on the bed then went down stairs and watched Ostrich do his ‘dj’ thing. I later found out why he didn’t invite me to room with him. You see, he was adamant that he didn’t want any ‘late nighters’ hanging out in his room because he needs to get sleep. Well I later found out he in fact did have a roommate he wasn’t at liberty to tell anyone about. At any rate, I went downstairs and hung out with a few friends at the bar and Deshaun and Lisa. These were the bartenders I deal with every year. Great, great, great guys. There were totally up for helping me with whatever I needed that next night. But we’ll get to that in a bit. I realized by midnight I was old and needed to go to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. I went back down to talk to some friends and saw Allan Holdsworth along with Claus Bohling discussing music. I was loving it. Jamison was pouring out like crazy with these two. The music discussions ensued till about 3am. I later went upstairs after walking around with my new “the man” in Keith “The Man’ Laboda. He is gagliarchives material. He has no fear of anything, and just seem to fit. Seriously, no joke. The night ended with me watching Claus Bohling eat ice cold wings in clumps from the masterful Kevin Feeley, who by the way, makes the best fuckin wings ever. It was off to dreamland to try and wake up for IZZ. How on earth is this going to happen?
One With Extra Extra, Please.
I woke up just as IZZ was getting on stage. I rushed to iron a shirt, (yes I care what I look like when I leave places), eat something, then bolt to Zoellner. I was craving one thing, and one thing only. Greg Jones Coffee. I know I tend to exaggerate at times. I can’t on this. This is the best cup of coffee I have ever had. I love Dunkin Donuts, I love 7-11 coffee, but I am sorry, this is no match and never will be. It’s the super bowl of coffee. I drank it with delight. No acid backlash, no burning in my stomach, and no rush to go to the bathroom. Hey, I’m just being honest. I then moved to the loading dock, or what I refer to as, the “big backstage”. I smiled on the inside as once again, despite all the changes in life etc, nothing changed. It’s almost like Nearfest picked up right where it was all the previous years. People walking around, moving gear in, talking about sound levels, the sound of drums and keyboards being tested, Kevin walking around with his headset asking for technical specifics, Mike Emerson with his dark glasses on in the dark, Keith Laboda standing guard over equipment, Chad jabbing me in the arm asking me about things I can’t remember at this point because I am still getting over Greg’s coffee, Rob walking around with the suitcase bomb, Noreen telling me to eat something, Ray and I smoking, talking about the broadcast later in the day…..Dude, this is Nearfest. I can’t tell you how much energy comes out of it. This was only Saturday morning for god’s sake. I love it. I could do this every day of the week. IZZ was great and tight and unfortunately, I only saw them perform their last 2 songs. They are the guys we had in our studio a year ago, and were just as tight unplugged. Kudos to them. It was a great set by the consensus of people behind and in front of the stage. The next set involved a band that I have followed since their inception in French project Nebelnest. Nebelnest was band two at Nearfest following IZZ, and what can I say but, wow. Despite the personnel changes, it was still Nebelnest. They did selections from their latest offering from Cuneiform titled Zepto. It was amazing to see these men who were once kids playing in my studio nearly a decade ago when they released their debut. Anselmi was still red hot on the drums. Greg and Olivier were just as driving as well. More on them later.
The 2007 Gloveball Championship
As Bob Drake’s ensemble played, so did the 2007 Gloveball Championship overlooking the beautiful rolling hills of Bethlehem’s Zoellner Arts Center. Sponsored by Jagermeister, the breakfast of champions. Before leaving for this fictitious annual event, I shared a pulled pork sandwich with Molly. Molly was a hottie. Perfectly contoured with beautiful eyes, a shapely figure, and sweetly affectionate. Molly was a Rottweiler mix that used her eyes and eyebrows to get what she wanted. Typical woman. But at least we bonded. It was off to the game. Let’s explain the rules.
1) You need to have a cubed sticks tied to together 2 inches by 2 inches preferably spiked at the end or with nails at the end for full effect.
2) You need an auto mechanics dirty cloth/leather glove to give it some weight. Also remember, it has to be large and not important. Preferably yellow as well.
3) Stand 20 feet from your opponent. Put the glove on to the end of your stick.
4) Pitch the glove either over hand or under hand BUT using your stick.
5) If the opponent hits it, the pitcher must throw his stick spear-like at the batter.
6) If you hit the opponent, he doesn’t get a point and it counts as an out. There are 3 outs.
7) If you miss the opponent, he gets a point, and another at bat.
8) So in actuality, you can have the lead over your opponent, but still lose.
The matchup was between Ray Weston, lead vocalist of Echolyn, and Tom Hyatt, bassist of Echolyn as well. These two were neck in neck, and Ray seemed to have the slight advantage. As the Newears.org guys watched from afar with mixed spirits, Ray was clocking the glove, pushing it up to the roof of the Newears Winnebago quite frequently. But just then, sloppy play would give Ray 2 outs while Tom had only had 1 out. Time was against Ray. Ray had a lot of power behind his swing but it just seemed that Tom was better equipped for striking out and missing the spear. Despite Ray’s 10-7 lead, Tom would win on a final spear on Ray. One can only wonder what next season will bring. Congratulations Tom.
Bombing The Wall
As always, at least on the Saturday portion of the weekend, I have to reserve the second half of the day to radio show prep within the confines of the University Station Bar in Bethlehem, PA. That means meeting up with Davin Flateau, the master of Aural Moon, and Keith “The Man” Laboda. The plan was in February to do the broadcast with z889/95.1 FM and we remote with a simulcast through Aural Moon as well. Well, without getting into details or rehashing, I decided that is more pain than pleasure to do this again. So, I decided no broadcast. At least until I got leeway from both sides. So as the months rolled along, Kevin Feeley started pushing me to at least do the internet broadcast for Aural Moon. So as that got closer, I decided this would be somewhat sufficient enough. The plan was to do the show from the same bar as the previous 2 years, but not have the restrictions I would with the radio station. Which isn’t much, but there would be no stops for breaks and just non stop music until the bands would hop on board to join us for interviews. The main key was to get to the main hub of the hotel for the internet. Which more or less means, if we are going to stream, we need to be able to punch through to the server through a specific port and start testing the broadcast leading up to show time. Sounds simple right? WRONG. The Comfort Suites firewall stopped us from doing that. At least the first 2 hours. David Urban, manager of the hotel, and a real gem, was extremely helpful but the only problem is, he is not an IT guy. He knows nothing about getting the firewall taken down nor would I expect him to. Now keep in mind, I am insane as the show gets closer to going on. I am sweating thinking that this broadcast is not going to happen. I kept myself busy by hanging the NJPROGHOUSE draping behind me, and cleaning up the area to look professional. I have to say, if Jack had been there, he would have been floored by the setup. So by 6:30, and missing Magenta, I was sweating. I actually had to go upstairs to my room and change clothes. I came back down to find Davin still plugging away. I was flattered by his tenacity. He diligently tried; keep in mind calmly, getting this show to go on without a hitch. He worked, and I ordered a big old sloppy burger with blue cheese. Then the magic words came out from Davin. “We’re On!” Let the madness begin….
Can You Lower It Please?
Our first guest of the night would be Sean McFee, host of the Aural Moon radio show Progressive Shores. We talked about his show, Progquebec, and most humorously, Hoppertunity Box. Sean is truly one of the good guys of the scene I can always count on in a pinch and has a great sense of what’s good and not to mention his knowledge of music is disturbing. Unfortunately, he had to be our guinea pig to make sure our microphones and system worked. We didn’t plan it that way, it just worked out that way. Within a half hour, people started rolling into the bar. We then started getting complaints that it was too loud. After talking to management of the hotel, they said it was fine. It was then we realized the complaints were coming from the people sitting right next to the speakers. Sigh. Deshaun and Leesa kept the drinks coming as more people started leaving the theater after Hawkwind. The show was in full swing at this point. Then Kevin Feeley comes over to the board and asks why the system was lowered. I explained why. Let’s put it this way, I will never lower anything again. All complaints go to Kevin Feeley from now on! You don’t like the set up, talk to Kevin Feeley, you think it’s too loud, talk to Kevin Feeley, don’t like the music, well…I guess you would talk to me. But you know me, what do I care what you think ;-). Then the laptop started giving me problems with the wireless connection. I couldn’t really talk to my listeners without the network folding. This got to be very frustrating. But the monotony was broken up with our next guest in vocalist Allesandro from La Maschera Di Cera. This guy was great. Very spirited. I know I am partial to Italians, but it was a great interview and these guys followed the radio show pretty well and knew how much of an impact that they made on our Top 100 of 2006 and the weekly top 20 as well. We discussed Luxade and how the audience responded to them in other parts of the world and what their plans for the future were. These guys were timeless and a big favorite of Sunday. We then had a visit from Gary Green of Gentle Giant fame. I don’t know what else I can say about this guy….Priceless? He stepped up to our booth and chatted with us about his love for prog rock, his love of the festival, and oh yeah, Gentle Giant. Gary and I are no strangers to each other. We had him on our program back in 1996 and this was amidst the ‘buzz’ of a possible reunion. Of course it never happened but nonetheless, he was right on with what he liked and was into. Gary is real. Not an artist just appeasing you because you are in the media. There was a sense of normalcy in our banter as if we were neighbors. We talked and shot the breeze and even made fun of each other. Gary’s concern for my health seeing that I never sleep and including my rising blood pressure was flattering as well. Most people don’t care about that kind of stuff, but Gary could kind of sense it. “Take time for you…” When he said that, I think he broke through. I mean that. Like, maybe he is right. Maybe I need to just relax and not let all the little things involving the radio show and even life get to me. After Gary stepped up, Chad stole the spotlight with his new Nearfest ale that had something to do with a Hammond Organ. I don’t know…I stuck to Yuengling and vodka. Chad then brought Christina from Magenta over to the table. First and foremost, Christina is one of those people that are far more beautiful in person than in a picture. She seemed shy and nervous and when all was said and done, she enjoyed her time in the spotlight on our show. We then were visited by Dibs of Hawkwind and we talked about the blistering performance we unfortunately couldn’t see and then helped plug their show in Allentown the next night. It was not too much longer after that, that the bar was increasingly packed. You couldn’t move. I have to be honest. So many people had come up to the table to say hello and even ask for autographs that I was physically and mentally on the verge of an anxiety attack. It all changed when I saw two people. Ken Golden, and Cozy Powell. Not the late great Cozy Powell, shit if that happened I’d know I flipped. Cozy stepped up to the microphone and we began our whole spiel on http://savenetradio.org/ and the importance of saving it. I won’t get into details, which I really should.
Here are the myths and facts in relation to this:

MYTH: Broadcast radio, satellite radio and Internet Radio pay the same amount of royalties to creators of music, or pay proportionate relative to the size of their businesses.
FACT: The smallest medium – Internet radio – pays the most royalties; and under the new CRB royalty scheme the smallest webcasters will pay the highest relative royalties in amounts shockingly disproportionate to their revenue. Broadcast radio, an industry with $20 billion in annual revenue, is exempt and pays no performance royalties to record companies or recording artists. Satellite radio, which has approximately $2 billion in annual revenue pays between 3 and 7% of revenue in sound recording performance royalties.
The six largest Internet-only radio services anticipate combined revenue of only $37.5 million in 2006, but will pay a whopping 47% (or $17.6 million) in sound recording performance royalties under the new CRB ruling. In 2008 combined revenues will total only $73.6 million, but royalties will be 58% or $42.4 million.
Small Internet radio services are essentially bankrupted by the CRB ruling, with most anticipating royalty obligations equaling or exceeding total revenue.

MYTH: Internet Radio isn’t really that big anyway. Most people still listen to traditional FM radio.
FACT: At some point every day more than 7 million Americans are listening to Internet radio. Studies by Arbitron and Bridge Ratings conclude that between 50 and 70 million Americans listen to Internet radio every month, and about 20 percent of 18-34 year olds listen to Internet radio every week.

MYTH: If Internet Radio is so big the higher royalty rates should be affordable.
FACT: Internet radio is a relatively new industry with advertising models still developing. Some services rely on banner ads; others are selling traditional audio ads; and still others rely on sponsorships. The vast majority of Webcasters will not be able to generate enough advertising revenue to pay their new, higher royalty fees.

MYTH: The webcasters’ previous royalty rate was too low and needed to be increased to ensure that artists and record companies are paid fairly.
FACT: Bankrupting the Internet radio industry will not benefit artists or record companies, as total industry royalties will diminish. Moreover, the demise of Internet radio will be particularly harmful to independent artists and record labels whose music is rarely played on broadcast radio. The American Association of Independent Music reports that less than 10% of terrestrial radio performances are independent music but more than 37% of non-terrestrial radio is independent music. This benefits artists, labels and music fans.
When Congress provided webcasters a guaranteed “statutory license” to perform sound recordings, Congress intended that Internet radio would flourish as a competitive medium offering diverse programming and paying a royalty. Tripling webcasters royalties undermines all these goals.

MYTH: Big webcasters can afford these royalties and they will each offer hundreds or thousands of channels, so what’s the big deal?
FACT: The CRB royalty is so high that even the biggest Internet-only radio services – including Yahoo, AOL, MTV and RealNetworks – will pay a combined 50+ percent of their revenue for only this single royalty. The only way to make a profitable, scalable business will be to attract the largest audience and advertisers while reducing overhead and innovation. The result will be “mass appeal” Internet radio programming that will look much more like today’s broadcast radio, rather than the diverse programming that exemplifies today’s Internet radio.

MYTH: The rate is only increasing from 7/100 of a penny per song streamed to 19/100 of a penny per song streamed over a 5-year period.
FACT: Nearly tripling the per-song royalty rate is only the first insult.
No Revenue-based Royalty Option. Prior to this decision all small webcasters and some large webcasters had the choice of paying royalties based on a percentage of their revenue that typically equaled 10-12%. But the CRB decision did not offer a revenue-based royalty option for any webcasters.
Retroactive Impact. The CRB decision is effective as of January 2006, so if it actually becomes effective for only one day its impact will be immediate as the past due royalties alone will be enough to bankrupt virtually all small and mid-sized webcasters.
Per Station Minimum. The CRB piled on even more, by imposing a $500 per channel minimum royalty that for many services will far exceed the annual royalties that would otherwise be due even after the CRB decision. One advantage of Internet radio is that it is not limited by spectrum capacity or bandwidth capacity, which enables several services literally to offer 10,000 or 100,000 stations and more. By penalizing this innovation and creativity the CRB further ensures that Internet radio will become less creative, less dynamic, less of an opportunity for non-mainstream artists and genres, and will look more like broadcast radio in the future.

So there you have it. That’s it in a nutshell. Don’t worry, we’ll win.
As we got ready to close out the show with some selections from Cozy’s new pile of goodies, he said some of the most powerful things in relation to our show and its impact. So help me god, when I make it to a PD position for a satellite station, Cozy is in my administration and will be a regular DJ. Keep in mind during all this, Keith is snapping photos. Please thank him. Then not to mention, Davin Flateau paid tribute to our show as well saying powerful things about the importance of Aural Moon and shows like the gagliarchives. It was touching. I have to say in a strange way, this was my favorite simulcast in my life’s history of the show. Just as we were wrapping up and starting to pack, the unthinkable happened. Karl Eisenhart, who really had no sleep in the weekend, accidentally shut down the main power source. The next thing I hear is Davin yell “NOOOOOOOOOO” I turned around and broke into a sweat. He held his head in his hands. But thank god for temporary folders. We found it, and saved it. All 5 or 6 hours of that night’s madness. I was spent. But I honestly felt like I accomplished something. It was a great feeling. I handed the hotel key to my new roommate Lynn, and the rest my friends, was history. I walked around for a bit trying to come down from the insanity and finally laid down by 4:30 AM. Unfortunately, Lynn is a snorer. Ave Verum Trembling Lovers
I woke up in a fog. My back hurt, my legs hurt, and my brain hurt. I was exhausted. Indukti was due on in 5 minutes. I flashed into the shower and flashed my ass right out the dow’. I made it to backstage and Greg Jones goodness and I was in heaven. I chugged it and headed to the theater to watch Indukti ravage our souls with a dose of blistering metallic lightening featuring highlights from their album S.U.S.A.R. from 2 years back. I with hundreds of others gave them a STANDING ovation. They were incredible. They rivaled Greg’s coffee. I moseyed through the Nearfest audience, meeting with close friends and listeners…stopped and chatted with Floyd, the Aural Moon gang, Cyndee and Jeff of Scattered Planets, Gary Green, Chad, Kevin Feeley, Cozy, Sean, and so many others. I meant some cool promoters including Stefanie Freedman of xpanse who shared the same love of music but only out on the west coast. She’s a world traveler and knows her stuff. I had to cut the conversation short to get in to see La Maschera Di Cera. The set was incredible. Especially Orpheus. I personally went back stage to thank them for a great set. We talked about Italy, about where my family was from, what it is now etc. It was good times. It was then on to the band I waited to see all weekend(Next to Secret Oyster) in Pure Reason Revolution. I was stoked. Jim Robinson and I sat next to one another not to miss this beginning. IT WAS AWESOME. Besides the chick in the half skirt that screamed in our ear every 4.5 minutes with words like “YEAH”, and “SHOW THEM”…I was like…wtf? Maybe she is related to that guy that was at the Strawbs show I went to last year. Anyway, the set was great. The vocal mix was a bit low unfortunately and I had a hard time hearing Jon sing and the red hot Chloe Alper. I met up with them backstage as well to thank them for not only being great, but giving a shot in the arm to the world of prog rock in 2006 with their #1 album of the year as voted by our listeners in The Dark Third. Chloe was absolutely stunning in person. I brought up how I remembered her teen music start in ‘Period Pains’. She blushed. I felt bad. I was like, oh wait, you are like way beyond that now. I just thought it was cool that you were kinda “Anti-Spice Girls”. We laughed for a minute, but then my stomach called me. It was time to eat. Cozy and I chatted on the phone and decided that Lehigh Pizza was the place to go. It was off to the Pizzeria, but first it was time to stop back at the MAC machine to tap for money and smokes. This is where my nightmare begins. I tapped my card to find out that there were insufficient funds. I broke out into a sweat. We came to the realization that we were never floated out on the NF card like I was told I would be, and was decked for 347$ with no $ in sight to get me home. I never imagined that. So in my panic, Rob put a band aid on it but then it led to me not being able to leave for the room I evidently already paid for so Kevin talked me into DJ’ing that night. No internet show or anything, just flip CD’s. So I obliged because it’s hard for me to say no to someone who reciprocates and appreciates the work I do promotionally speaking. So I was in. Cozy fed me, and it was time to get drunk. I rarely have ever gotten tanked at Nearfest, but tonight was the night.
Can You Lower It Please? Part II
So I setup at the bar again with my music but was thrilled I didn’t have to talk. The expletives would have flowed steadily. So I started serving up some music and sat down with Jonathan Cooke, the road manager for Pure Reason Revolution. We shot the breeze for a long while, while I turned him on to the beverage known as Yuengling, established 1829. After rapping with the band again over shots, it was then I saw the always jovial Leonardo Pavkovic of the Moonjune Records label. We started drinking some more with the music of the Pat Metheny Group’s The Way Up on. It was just then that a bald gentleman walked over to the table. He looked pretty pissed off, which I was wondering what could you be mad at with this playing in the background. He says to me, “Yeah, you need to lower this.” At first I thought he worked there. I said, “Do you work for the hotel?” “No, but you need to turn this down.” I said, “Well I’m sorry, but if you have a problem with the volume, you may need to talk to Kevin Feeley. This is his equipment and I was instructed not to touch ANY of the levels on this board. It’s not my equipment.” Disgustedly he responds, “Do you know who I am?” I just looked at this guy with the thought in my head, are you serious? The attitude was shocking. “I’m sorry, who are you?” “You don’t know who I am? Well I’m Robert Rich, and you need to turn this down.” Quite frankly, it could have been Pat Metheny and I wouldn’t have turned it down. “Ok, well I’m Tom Gagliardi, and I am still not turning it down. Talk to Kevin. Thanks.” That just added insult to injury. And you are again…? I don’t even know who you are. Klaus Schulze shows me more respect and he’s Klaus Schulze.

The Long Goodbye
The after party was great. I hung out with Jello Biafra of The Dead Kennedy’s fame and came to realize he was pretty cool and evidently, a BIG Magma fan. I stopped for photos with listeners and fans, including shots with Christian Vander, Pure Reason Revolution, Paul Sears of The Muffins, and many others. I partied with Jim Robinson, Noreen, Ray and…well, to be honest, I was pretty hammered at that point and don’t remember. I later hung out with Indukti for a while as Ewa and I showed off our UK stripes, Keith and I took another long walk, I would then go on my Butterfinger binge while the boys from Nebelnest watched. The after party was great watching the entire staff that worked their blessed asses off ALL weekend FINALLY enjoy some spirits while watching half of them nod out. I felt fuzzy despite being trashed. And then, it was off to bed. I woke up obviously hungover, and in a complete fog. I made it to my Jeep with sunglasses on with one thing in mind. Meet Cozy and Laura for breakfast at (THANK GOD) Perkins. What I didn’t know when I got there, was that there were 2 Perkins in the area. L I was upset. Thinking they left without me, I just sat and ate and as always, (you know this Jack) felt melancholy. Eh, it’s an event I look forward to all year, and now it was over. But it’s all good. Things went well at least with the people and the broadcast. When all was said and done, I helped Keith and Noreen get out of Bethlehem, PA and begin to head southeast. The rain was miserable at times, but it all began to clear once I crossed the Tacony Palmyra Bridge. Sigh. Home again. The Blueberry patch is much needed after this nonsensical at times weekend. Time to lick my wounds and count the damage. Only 52 weeks to go till Nearfest X. Ok, I’ll stop.