As a child, our writer made mixtapes out of recorded radio shows. In this personal essay, she explains how she disobeyed the station’s official music curation.
When I was a little girl I committed a crime. I produced dozens of mixtapes containing songs I had illegally recorded from the radio. This crime was, alas, necessary. I was tired of being bombarded by other people’s choice of songs. I wanted to be able to listen to whatever I wanted, when I wanted.
I would stand by my boombox and tune in to my favorite programs (usually the international music programs – that’s how I learned English). Then, I would sneakily use my family’s landline to telephone the radio station. With my innocent ten-year-old voice I would request the newest singles from my favorite artists (I loved rock bands such as Incubus, Silverchair, and The Vines, but I also loved bubblegum karaoke favorites like Britney Spears, M2M, and t.A.T.u). The radio announcer would answer with «Aaww… of course, sweet little girl, do you have anyone special to say hi to?» Sometimes I would conjure a random name from thin air, and then end the phone call with «Can you please play the song in its entirety and not cut it with jingles, ads, or greetings?»
Totally Illegal
I thought being a radio announcer was the coolest profession in the world. But they would be even cooler if they didn’t cut your requested songs with stupid jingles, ads, and greetings. When my requested song was aired, I would press the record button. If the cool radio announcer played my requested song in its entirety and uninterrupted, I would have a sleek, perfect copy to play anytime I wanted. Totally illegal.
My juvenile lawlessness gave birth to a collection of mixtape cassettes containing the best of the 2000s. Each mixtape contained 10 to 20 songs, neatly tucked into a glass case and wrapped in a passionately handwritten, hand-drawn cover – complete with liner notes. Sue me if you want, but that was how a little girl with no money, a great love of music, and a hand-me-down boombox appreciated her favorite songs. Don’t get me wrong. I was, and still am, a supporter of copyright.
When I got extra money I would spend it strategically, buying original album cassettes at official stores in my town. I had little hope that my contribution from a small town in Southeast Asia would make its way to Los Angeles, London, or wherever my favorite artists came from, helping them to continue making music. But although I was poor and I was just a little girl, I always tried my best to be a little lawful.
What I Wanted, When I Wanted
Of course, if I was really determined not to be a criminal at such a young age, I should have been content with my boombox radio. A law-abiding little girl would wake up every morning greeted by the newest upbeat tracks that were climbing their way to the top of the TOP 40 chart. Every night, she would fall asleep serenaded by slow evergreen songs whose familiar melodies were more comfortable than her blanket. But she would not fuss when it was Avril Lavigne playing instead of her current guitar girl favorite Michelle Branch. She would not curse if angry-at-Bush American emo bands started playing instead of her European favorites like Mew or Arctic Monkeys.
But being a law-abiding little girl means you have to give in to the radio station’s curation. This girl had the power to change channels; she had an endless choice of programs to listen to. But still, a law-abiding little girl would let the radio station strip her of the curating control, giving it away to the cool radio announcer. She could phone the radio station and request her favorite song, but only the cool radio announcer had the prerogative to air or not to air the song. A law-abiding little girl also would not curse if the cool radio announcer decided to cut the songs with greetings, ads, or jingles, because she would not push the record button when the song played.
No, Sir. As a little girl I would fuss and curse if I could not listen to what I wanted, when I wanted.
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