Amelia Spong

When I walk through the doors after being buzzed in, the station unfolds in front of me along one 100-foot-long hallway. Along the right side are my colleagues’ offices. Jacob and Dina share the big one, while Michelle gets her own mid-sized, although cluttered, space. To my left, a file cabinet stretches 9 feet tall, filled with the CD archive of the radio. This filing cabinet used to enchant me, full of music waiting to be discovered, but recently it has been reminding me of the long, dragging bureaucratic process that I’ve been undergoing to try and assemble an archival project for the station. All around me, the sound of music fills the air. There is a small pink radio I donated to the station sitting on a desk near the entryway, broadcasting the station from cheap, tiny speakers. Further down the hall is a set of larger speakers, broadcasting the station live with exceptional quality. I poke my head into the main broadcasting studio, studio 3, and see Saint Blameless, whose show is on live, and Ken, the station manager, sitting together discussing what I infer to be bike lane policy. They sit in wrinkled black office chairs and talk over and under each other, often loudly voicing similar opinions on the state of the city and the idiocy of the government. I like Saint Blameless a lot, ever since I learned he knew Anne Magnuson, the voice behind Bongwater, one of my current favorite 90s band deep cuts. I’ve been coming in during his show to pick his brain about the music industry, which he has extensive experience in. They are both slight white men of average height, with impressively thick grey hair. They have the easy camaraderie of long-time colleagues. The radio is, there is no denying, a boys’ club. An older, white boys’ club. Many of the broadcasters here are veterans who have been doing shows for decades. I admire their expertise; however, I feel as though the station could benefit from some new blood. I tell Ken as much, and he tells me that they are making an effort to include more undergrads. I can’t help but agree with this; more fresh faces show up with every volunteer session. Although I’ve noticed many young women coming to learn more, they tend not to stay. I don’t, however, mention this to Ken