The sounds of radio can not be duplicated.

When I was first getting interested in music my only means of collecting songs was to record them from the radio. I would try to 'pause' my tape player at the end of a song, but more often than not I would end-up with one or two seconds of unwanted audio. This was irritating at first, but as I listened to the tapes over and over again I found those blips of unwanted audio to be intriguing. Another audio event of which was of great importance to me was made possible by the fact that my stereo had 'short wave reception' capabilities. I spent hours listening to bizarre sound collage, mixtures of c.b. [citizen band] radio conversations and radio evangelists. Conversations would flow in and out of each other in a seemingly random fashion. Static and distant voices colliding in what sounded to my young ears like the soundtrack for a post-apocalyptic film created by a pre-apocalyptic director. In the past I have found the radio to be the most intimate and soothing of media, as well as the most ominous and disturbing.

In recording my piece I decided to use sounds from the radio, sounds that had likely not been heard by anyone else. The spaces between stations, or the spaces in which they overlap, at any specific moment are comprised of sounds that will likely never be heard again. I attempted to capture a number of these sounds and use them to make one piece, which reflects the feelings that I personally associate with the medium of radio.

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