Revolution in the Air

Community radio in the Colonial capital offers unique outlet for local musicians and…Christian dream interpretation?

Hampton Roads radio sucks. We have Hunter Hughes, Jae Sinnett, Paul Shugrue, and Cathy Lewis—that is it. Elseways, I’ve never heard such sapless playlists (Bob) and homophobic—read: homoerotic—blubbering (Mike & Bob). Sure, All Things Considered is great, but what does that show have to do with Southeast Virginia? All this makes me glad I know one entertaining person and spend my disposable dollars at Relative Theory.

But then Leona Baker (Senior Editaurus fabulosa de PFW) drops me a line about WRRW, 100.9 FM, Revolutionary Radio, in Williamsburg. I click onto their website for a listen since they only beam a scrimpy 100 watts into the air. And what do I hear? Songs that sound like Bob Allen Zimmerman. Songs from artists I’ve never heard of. Songs from the Caribbean. More songs from artists I’ve never heard of.

But then, I stream Christian Dream Interpretation, a show that promises you will "learn about angelic messengers, demonic spirits, symbolism and the signifigance of animals and colors in your dreams. Is the dream symbolic, prohetic, or both.?"

Huh? Reads like someone needs to take my ENG 01 class. This is interesting, but what gives? And how is it Norfolk is the professed urban corridor, but Williamsburg has two (gotta count 92.3) decent radio stations with honest-to-God 24/7 local programming to Nah-fudge’s nil?

So I head up I-64 expecting to find a smaller version of WHRO’s studio. The directions lead me into a housing development, and just as I am cursing Google Maps, I find the "studio." Bored teenagers sit on their front porches drawing on their sneakers. Button-up shirts come home from work in their Audis, their prudent belt buckles glistening in the sinking sun. Lawnmowers yank to a start. Birds chirp. Squirrels make squirrel sounds. Not exactly the trappings of a revolution, but I head into Ed Langhal’s house curious. Langhal is the general manager of WRRW.

He is a perennially happy character in a dirty shirt. As I eye the Marshall mini-stack and Stratocaster in the corner, he notes, "Growing up, I never had TV on. I always had radio on."

His enthusiasm is catching, and though WRRW sounds slightly unprofessional at times, his manic energy and taste in music (though much of that credit should go to John McClung, the program director) come through the airwaves.

Langhal’s story is simple: "I told myself I’m going to retire and start a radio station. I thought it would be 20 years. It took six."

In his living room full of microphones and computers and mixing boards, he tells me, "If a citizen proposes a show, and can demonstrate they can do it, they get air time."

This is partly in explanation for Christian Dream Interpretation, the aforementioned show that doesn’t fit with the station’s emphasis on local artists, jazz, blues, and Americana music. Though I have to say the show’s format of analyzing two dreams in an hour quiets the hipster in me, desperate for entertainment that doesn’t change subject matter every 10 seconds.

I ask Langhal if someone wanted to transmit a punk rock show with a Communist bent, would he air it?

He says "no," which takes me back a bit. I thought this was supposed to be community radio. What about the revolution, man? But then I realize, looking out the window at a copse of trees, which Langhal calls his "TV," that this man has his finger on the pulse of the community, and the community of Williamsburg is just not Communist. Forcing a Communist perspective on that community would be consonant to forcing a Republican perspective on an area where people read books.

The best listening on WRRW is Revolutionary Radio, a show in which artists like Hem come into their "studio" and broadcast for an hour. The artists (for a complete list, go to www.wrrw.fm) talk about their music, play some live tracks, spin some studio cuts, and generally just hang out.

A close second is Caribbean Diaspora, a show that leans too heavily on Robert Marley, but is full of history and flavor. Like many programs on WRRW, it is enriching.

Langhal and his comrades have created a true community radio station; what NPR is in theory but never in practice.

Stretching in his chair, he tells me, "I remember when public radio was one microphone in an isolation booth, and the entire band played around it."

This conjures an image from O Brother, Where Art Thou? A contrast to the six or seven computers that surround us, but the Internet is the only way WRRW can survive. As an LPFM station they cannot rebroadcast a signal like WHRO. Instead they rely on downloads and CDs they receive from constant canvassing.

I ask Langhal to name five local artists the mod readership of PFW may not have heard of: "Shane Cooley, Riyen Michael, Mercy Creek, Carbon Leaf, Mike Aiken, and Robin Thompson."

Neither of us is very good with numbers, so I ask him to name five non-local artists worth knowing: "Leslie Clemens, Paul Manoses, Stoll Vaughn, and Scott Miller."

Unlike the large radio stations, which Langhal will not name, "We don’t need charts. We make the charts."

Halfway through this essay, I considered writing my editor and telling her there wasn’t a story. Nights I have been enjoying WRRW’s stream as I correct grammar, and it doesn’t take a Northern genius like me to figure such a small station couldn’t handle the extra Web traffic. Though something tells me Langhal wouldn’t mind if we crashed his site; he’d just dig in and find a way to bring good music to all of Southeast Virginia. That’s something we should all tune in for.  •

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