My original title was going to be – shudder – Ragnarock And Roll. It’s from a GWAR song and at the time, I thought it would be ever so cool to relate myself to the quintessential Scumdogs of the Universe.
Eh, their most recent album kinda blew anyway.
Fortunately, I got smart at the last minute and changed the name on the application to the first thing that popped into my head: The John Dunphy Experience. It was subtle, it was memorable, it had my name in it. It worked.
Despite popular belief, the name did not come about from Jimi Hendrix but, rather, a dude I knew in High School who apparently had a band called The Steve Mickytook Experience, essentially pinning me as a rip-off of a rip-off. Me and my friend Ahab would giggle our asses off during lunch period because we thought it was the most ridiculous sounding name in the world. Apparently, for me at least, it wasn’t ridiculous enough.
The show, like all WALF shows, ran for two hours once a week, usually Friday night. I’d play music, naturally, and talk on occasion when I wasn’t. A lot of the times, I’d be joined by guests that would make the two hours race by like minutes – good friends like Steve and Big Willie Style were what helped make the show such fun. Also included were the semi’s Ilya, Lisa and Robbie B. and others who popped in now and again. We had ourselves quite the crew sometimes, fitting six or seven people in a three person maximum booth. It was insane, sometimes chaotic and always, yes, an experience. We could be talking about the weather (it gets stupid cold in western NY state in the winter if you’re not familiar with the area, kiddies), ourselves, the weekend ahead, perhaps the random innocent stranger who just happened to be walking by the window, minding his business. It didn’t matter; everything was up for grabs. That’s what made it work.
By the end of my two year run, I had even put together a number of really kick-ass bumpers to throw on in-between songs or after Public Service Announcements, to remind everyone they were indeed listening to me and not, say, The Hour of Power x’s 2. That was Steve’s show. I still have the bumpers. Perhaps, if my ancient dial-up connection will allow it, I can send a couple to Mr. Rowe and present them here on the column. It’ll be cool, kind of like those rumble packs you can hook up to your videogame controller to “feel the action.” It’ll be sweet.
And that’s really why I decided to call this column The John Dunphy Experience. Who knows if it will ever live up to the original? I can still try. I want the readers to enjoy themselves here. That’s what music’s about, you know; bringing people together, connecting, getting the most out of the little time we have on this sphere. That’s what friends are about, too. We’ve got to hold onto our friends, even when differences and miscommunication sometimes erupt. We’ve got to make sure we can get through all of that crap and get to the real core of it all, what really matters. Sometimes, the best way to accomplish that is for everyone to just relax, settle down and maybe listen to a song or two.
Well, maybe that was a little touchy feely but so what? This is my column, go get your own. I’m gonna go make plans for getting back up to Alfred by the end of the month, I’m overdue. See you next week.
“It's always one hell of a party, when RagNaRok rolls around RagNaRok N Roll, RagNaRok N Roll…” –GWAR, Ragnarock
