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Since 2004
Works in Canton, North Carolina United States of America

Once upon a time
There was a little boy
And he went outside.
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d/y ethereal radio broadcast #19: sister

Where is it that we were together? Who were you that I lived with,
walked with? The brother, the friend. Darkness and light, strife
and love. Are they the workings of one mind? The features of the
same face? Oh my soul, let me be in you now. Look out through my
eyes. Look out at the things you made. All things shining.


d/y ethereal radio broadcast #18: sand

And as I said
I slept as though dead
Dreaming seamless dreams
Of lead


Re: d/y ethereal radio broadcast #17: slightly snowy

Hi Jarad,

I'm glad you are deriving a benefit from the broadcasts. All our services are geared toward facilitating a more lively remote dialogue with the Sundry Essences of Wonder, and we are gratified whenever such (however indirectly) occurs.

To answer your question, by definition, no:

It is our prayer that this function will not diminish, but rather invigorate the sanctity of these broadcasts.


By Your Leave,
Archive Registrar
Deep/Young Ethereal Archive

> Jarad wrote:
> Is there any way to access past playlists from
> Deep/Young Ethereal Radio.
> I learned of some great bands through your broadcast
> and unfortunately didnt write many of them down.
> Let me know if you can help.
> Thanks
> Jarad


d/y ethereal radio broadcast #17: slightly snowy

Kilmeny had been she knew not where,
And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;
Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,
Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew.
But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,
And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,
When she spoke of the lovely forms she had seen,
And a land where sin had never been;
A land of love and a land of light,
Withouten sun, or moon, or night;
Where the river swayed a living stream,
And the light a pure and cloudless beam.


d/y ethereal radio broadcast #16: brut

I was in France or Switzerland, in a store looking out on a
cobblestone street of a quaint village. I'd received a toy xylophone
in the mail that had been sent by David Bowie, saying to come visit
him at his recording studio. But it was a form letter with my name
stamped on it. Apparently he had sent many people the same xylophone
with the same request, saying that he was working on a new record,
and anybody with some ideas should come and visit him. I thought,
"Yeah, he'll take everybody's ideas, and then we'll never hear from
him again." The more I pondered this, the less benevolent the gift
became, and I looked closer and realized it had been sent to me by
mistake. The package was actually addressed to some wealthy people,
because an elaborate note was attached signed by his assistant, Coco.

Then I realized the shop I was in was actually a drug store. I
started to explore my surroundings, and sat down with someone in the
back. It was David Byrne. I was nervous, as I didn't know what to
say to such a big star. So I picked up a perfume bottle next to me
that was shaped like the head of King Tut. I showed it to him and I
said, "Isn't this neat?" That seemed to break the ice. That seemed
to break the ice, and we then proceeded to drink the perfume from
large tumblers full of crushed ice. We were getting along very well,
and I noticed that the back of the store was actually my
grandmother's house, and I realized that I was back in West Virginia.

"Do you want to go take a walk around the town, " I asked him.
"There's lots of authentic, old-fashioned country stuff we can look
at." He said OK, and we went out of the house, and outside was an
endless maze of country store full of dry goods and the like, all
stored in turn-of-the-century containers. I lost David Byrne in my
fascination for the surroundings, and I never did think of any ideas
for that other David. I decided right then and there that I was
better off alone, and would never speak to anyone named "David" again.

- Ann Magnuson (1988)