A Little Q&A With One Of Tucson's Favorite DJs On The Occasion Of His Turning 50.
By Fred Mills
IT'S A SATURDAY ritual in the Old Pueblo: 2 p.m., tune
the FM receiver to 91.3 and listen to Kidd Squidd spin the tunes
for three hours on his long-running KXCI-FM program.
"When I hear a great jangly pop tune," the deejay muses
into the mic, in a tone of unforced reverence, "it's like
a laser thread that goes from one hemisphere of my brain to the
other, then straight down to my heart, stitching it all together
to create this chicken skin in my whole soul. This next song is
one of 'em, and it's pure magic: 'Shake Some Action,' by the Flamin'
Groovies..."
He's right; you shiver with delight when you hear the tune's
great, ringing guitar riffs.
"The theme of today's show is 'Country Blues,' and I've
gotta tell ya, this music just makes me feel glad to be alive.
It was never intended to be heard by the masses, just for a small
gathering of folks sitting on a back porch in the Deep South somewhere,
and that's why it's so real, so direct..."
Suddenly you find yourself transported back in time...look, there's
Blind Willie McTell, Furry Lewis and Mississippi John Hurt!
MUSIC SAVED Kidd Squidd's life, and he's been witnessing
for its powers ever since, setting up Saturday afternoon shots
of salvation since December 1983.
"Music's one of those things that just keeps us going, ya
know?" Squidd declares. "It's that eternal quest, and
it's one of the great wonders, just the incredulity we as humans
have about music and what it teaches us about ourselves."
Born in Springfield, Illinois, on the first day of the summer
of '48, to a time when the name Truman still connoted "president"
and not "village idiot," young Dave Squires quickly
charted his boat in the direction of rock and roll. As a teenage
Squidd in the early '60s, his days were spent soaking up the music
of the British Invasion and the electric blues of nearby Chicago.
By '67 he was ready to put his copy of On The Road to good
use and head to California for the Summer Of Love. Translation:
Haight-Ashbury, mind-expanding drugs, Janis Joplin, Quicksilver,
Hendrix, starry-eyed letters mailed home to the family.
"Oh, my parents were so upset!" Squidd remembers. "My
brother recalled how I looked when I came back: leather Indian
suede moccasins that went up to my knees, buckskin jacket, hair
longer, a wild look in my eye--and I smelled like patchouli oil!"
Squidd's countercultural trajectory led him through the '70s
and '80s, with music as his constant companion. An '83 vacation
to visit his brother in Tucson proved fortuitous. The fledgling
KXCI featured a show called "Mystery Deejay," and after
Squidd walked in off the street for a turn behind the microphone,
the station's phone lines lit up during his freeform mix of rock,
soul, blues and rockabilly. Rock Roots With Kidd Squidd
was born. Nearly 15 years later, while the name of the award-winning
show has changed (to Mystery Jukebox), the game remains
the same: celebrating the "coolest tunes in the universe."
Speaking of celebrations...the man turned 50 on June 21. Do anything
special, Squidd?
KIDD SQUIDD: My girlfriend Sharon and I went up to Fairbanks,
Alaska, for four days, for the Summer Solstice. It's so amazing,
like the last real frontier.
You're told that the sun doesn't set, but it's hard to explain
until you've been there. At midnight, off on the horizon the sun
would dip down behind a mountain range like at a sunset--then
it would come back up again!
Then when I got back to Tucson my first show was "Coolest
Tunes In The Universe, Part 50." It was the most diverse
one in the series in a long time. A lot of offbeat stuff that
came out in the late '50s and early '60s, then this guy from the
'40s, Tex Carmen, who played a Hawaiian style of guitar, but he
was a hillbilly at the same time. Jesus & Mary Chain, Calexico,
Mose Allison, Johnny Cash, Beck, Tom Waits, Emmett Miller, Neutral
Milk Hotel...When I do a show like that I think of it like splashes
of color, with my intuition choosing the song. First and foremost,
I'm doing the show for myself, so there's a bit of an ego trip
involved. But it's also for whoever wants to join in.
TW: It's no secret that your musical taste and knowledge
is broader than the average bear's. But most people simply quit
exploring by the time they get out of school and have to get jobs.
What do you say to convince them there is life after age 30?
KS: The best way is to let them hear music. A lot of people
in their 30s really don't have time to dig through all kinds of
new music, and you can't force them to listen. I can relate to
the comfort aspect of it, listening to what I grew up with. There's
that element that brings back certain feelings.
But on the other hand, there's always plenty of terrific new
music coming out.
People say to me, "Where do you get all this music?"
And I kind of half-jokingly, half-seriously, go, well, I've been
given a key. There's a certain place in the universe where all
the cool tunes are kept. And at times I'm allowed to go to this
place with this special key and unlock it and go and get some
more.
TW: Do you think of this as a career or a hobby?
KS: Well, I'd like to make some money some day doing what
I do! I did a '60s show on a commercial station, The Echo, for
a year about three years ago. I still do parties and a lot of
weddings. I have some ideas about putting together some compilations.
And I'm working on a possible syndication of my show in Europe,
so we'll see what happens; it's hard to get syndicated, although
I did it once before, also called Mystery Jukebox. But
I really think of it as having a mission, which is to get as much
music out there as possible.
TW: I've watched that look on your face during your
show when someone calls in and starts raving about something you
just played. It's like--"mission accomplished."
KS: Yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about! Someone
calls in and says they've got the speakers aimed into the backyard,
and they're barbecuing with me cranked up loud...that's it.
TW: You were lucky enough to be around to witness rock's
birthing rites. But 30 years later, can a teenager in 1998 staring
at a Marilyn Manson CD cover get that same thrill of innocent
discovery that you got looking at, say, an early Rolling Stones
LP sleeve?
KS: You can't help but have an element of innocence at
12 or 13, even if you're jaded. But everything is fast and furious
now; MTV bombards kids. I think the question becomes: Where is
it all gonna go? With technology advancing so quickly into the
new millennium, I see music going more and more back to its roots.
When I did my country blues show recently, that music just whispered
sweet nothings to my soul, yet I wasn't around when it was recorded.
It was almost like a meditation. With time gone so technologically
rampant, to hear that real human music is very, very comforting
and soothing. And I think people are going to be demanding that
more and more.
TW: "Music to soothe the savage beast." In
1998, more than ever.
KS: I think just opening up and getting a musically liberated
approach in my mind--so I can approach the 20th century from the
'20s on--has been the most important aspect of my journey, personally.
I'm very aware that you don't have to have just one way of listening
to music. You don't listen to Mississippi John Hurt the same way
you listen to Funkadelic. Or the Blasters.
And once you realize that, you begin to open up, allow your mind
to jump, and that enhances your life and your appreciation of
humanity, really.
That's what's so unique about us: We are diverse. I'll be listening
to classical music driving around in the car, very detached and
quiet, but at the same time it will make me keenly observant of
all the life that's going on around me. They've even done studies
of brainwaves and music, and the type that brings together both
hemispheres of the brain is classical music.
TW: And some say playing classical music for your plants
nurtures their development...
KS: I guess so. Personally, I think a little funk might
help too. But you have to add water--remember, a plant cannot
live on funk alone!
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