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It's Friday! Everyone's trying to get it right, get it right
Everyone's watching, to see what you will do
Everyone's looking at you, oh
Everyone's wondering, will you come out tonight
Everyone's trying to get it right, get it right
Everybody's working for the weekend
Everybody wants a little romance
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance, oh
You want a piece of my heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
Everyone's looking to see if it was you
Everyone wants you to come through
Everyone's hoping it'll all work out
Everyone's waiting they're holding out
Everybody's working for the weekend
Everybody wants a little romance
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance, oh
You want a piece of my heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
You want a piece of my heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
You want a piece of my heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
11 replies
= new reply since forum marked as read
= new reply since forum marked as read
Let the Roomba Pong games begin! 
[youtube]
Last edited Fri Jul 1, 2016, 01:00 PM - Edit history (1)
That's WHFS, the beloved Bethesda, Maryland, radio station that will live forever in the hearts of its listeners.
Every Friday afternoon as he signed off, DJ "Weasel," who now works at Towson University's WTMD, played the same set of songs.
videos coming on edit....
Hat tip, this site: Remembering Frantic Fridays
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Remembering Frantic Fridays
Much of what we endure in the present softens and comes to a mild glow through the wide lens of nostalgia. It's more rare when something vital and urgent in the far past retains its charge in the present. Joyce Carol Oates says that "blood is memory without language." When a recollection stirs us, language vainly tries to translate. So my dilemma: how do I describe the effects on me of Weasel's "Frantic Friday" sets on WHFS in the 1980s, which have retained their charge in my memory.
Weasel—whose actual name is Jonathan Gilbert—was for many years the afternoon DJ at WHFS, first in its legendary lo-fi incarnation on Cordell Avenue in Bethesda, Maryland at 102.3 FM, then at its 50,000-watt boost in Annapolis at 99.1 FM. At its heyday, 'HFS was a remarkable radio station, and I can only be glad that the stars aligned when they did and that I was alive during the station's glory years. At 'HFS, free-form was philosophy, and philosophy was practice, especially at the 102.3 incarnation which was on the air from 1970 to 1983: no DJs had a required set-list of pre-selected songs; a set could last three songs or six, or seven, lengthened or shortened by the whim (and moods) of the DJ; no genres were off-limits; a quarter of a show might be devoted to yammering with a fellow DJ or with a visiting band or artist, and the yammering could go on as long as anyone was interested; commercials had a funky, local flavor. The overall vibe—originating in the DJ's personalities and attitudes and their love and knowledge of the songs they played and the history those songs scored— was loose, warm, exciting, and vital, a celebration of alternative music long before the term was coined.
"Home grown radio," WHFS was organic and unique. Anyone who grew up in suburban Washington D.C. in the 1970s and 1980s who wanted true progressive radio became enamored, and a passionate fan and advocate. The era is long-gone, memories of which having recently been stoked and debated in blogs, here and here.
Jonathan "Weasel" Gilbert
The on-air staff was full of adventuresome spirits, but Weasel was my favorite. His name originated from his high, chirpy voice and rodent-like face (which, in the pre-Google Image era, I rarely saw, maybe once or twice in the City Paper). His legend grew from his remarkably broad knowledge of rock & roll history and his staggeringly large music library. (In what felt like myth, he lived, as did several DJs, in the building in Bethesda where 'HFS occupied two floors, what Weasel would call on-air "the twin towers at radio park," still an evocative expression for me.) What I loved most about Weasel was that this man knew rock & roll. He got it. For all of the station's reputation for playing obscure or deep album tracks rather than singles, Weasel, its mainstay DJ, had a singles mentality, a love for the two and a half-to-three minute pop song that he grew up with in the 1950s and 60s. (He was also very knowledgeable about R&B and Blues, less so, it appeared, about Punk.) His celebration and love of the Pop Hook was born of affection for earlier decades when producers mixed songs imagining how they'd sound coming from a transmitter radio by the public pool.
Remembering Frantic Fridays
Much of what we endure in the present softens and comes to a mild glow through the wide lens of nostalgia. It's more rare when something vital and urgent in the far past retains its charge in the present. Joyce Carol Oates says that "blood is memory without language." When a recollection stirs us, language vainly tries to translate. So my dilemma: how do I describe the effects on me of Weasel's "Frantic Friday" sets on WHFS in the 1980s, which have retained their charge in my memory.
Weasel—whose actual name is Jonathan Gilbert—was for many years the afternoon DJ at WHFS, first in its legendary lo-fi incarnation on Cordell Avenue in Bethesda, Maryland at 102.3 FM, then at its 50,000-watt boost in Annapolis at 99.1 FM. At its heyday, 'HFS was a remarkable radio station, and I can only be glad that the stars aligned when they did and that I was alive during the station's glory years. At 'HFS, free-form was philosophy, and philosophy was practice, especially at the 102.3 incarnation which was on the air from 1970 to 1983: no DJs had a required set-list of pre-selected songs; a set could last three songs or six, or seven, lengthened or shortened by the whim (and moods) of the DJ; no genres were off-limits; a quarter of a show might be devoted to yammering with a fellow DJ or with a visiting band or artist, and the yammering could go on as long as anyone was interested; commercials had a funky, local flavor. The overall vibe—originating in the DJ's personalities and attitudes and their love and knowledge of the songs they played and the history those songs scored— was loose, warm, exciting, and vital, a celebration of alternative music long before the term was coined.
"Home grown radio," WHFS was organic and unique. Anyone who grew up in suburban Washington D.C. in the 1970s and 1980s who wanted true progressive radio became enamored, and a passionate fan and advocate. The era is long-gone, memories of which having recently been stoked and debated in blogs, here and here.
Jonathan "Weasel" Gilbert
The on-air staff was full of adventuresome spirits, but Weasel was my favorite. His name originated from his high, chirpy voice and rodent-like face (which, in the pre-Google Image era, I rarely saw, maybe once or twice in the City Paper). His legend grew from his remarkably broad knowledge of rock & roll history and his staggeringly large music library. (In what felt like myth, he lived, as did several DJs, in the building in Bethesda where 'HFS occupied two floors, what Weasel would call on-air "the twin towers at radio park," still an evocative expression for me.) What I loved most about Weasel was that this man knew rock & roll. He got it. For all of the station's reputation for playing obscure or deep album tracks rather than singles, Weasel, its mainstay DJ, had a singles mentality, a love for the two and a half-to-three minute pop song that he grew up with in the 1950s and 60s. (He was also very knowledgeable about R&B and Blues, less so, it appeared, about Punk.) His celebration and love of the Pop Hook was born of affection for earlier decades when producers mixed songs imagining how they'd sound coming from a transmitter radio by the public pool.
Joe "King" Carrasco and the
The Flirts, "We Just Wanna Dance"
The Beastie Boys, "
You've Got to) Fight for Your Right to Party"
Bonus: Slickee Boys, "Life of the Party"
How I wish I could see them one more time.
Moar Slickee Boys!
