Radio's roots.

When Marconi radio figures out it's gotta get back to its roots, it'll be magic again. What roots? Why, the roots every radio station has, planted in the soil of its city of license--its ground system grid.

I use this metaphor to avoid uttering that worn-out, now-meaningless word, "local." The future of steel tower radio is its hometown, its 1-millivolt coverage area, its metro market. Its future is in the hands of people who live in the town and run the radio station day to day.

I offer an example: Driving around Yakima, Washington, earlier today, I decided to scan the AM dial. At 1490 kHz I found the Yakama Nation's radio station. A nice, evocative guitar-heavy tune was playing. The lyrics included "...let me tell you 'bout that Indian girl in a green dress..." It was a fresh, gentle, nice tune, sung by a rough-voiced kinda-country rock guy. Then the song ended, and a friendly deejay wandered through an easy-going break, in which he gave away tickets to a pro basketball game, talked about his need to hear from the next jock, as to whether he was going to show up for work tonight....

I've tuned this station before when I was here, and heard recordings of Native Americans chanting, with a jock doing breaks between the long dance-chants. This time I was more inclined to let go of my old professional disdain for amateur-sounding radio stations, and having let it go, I was able to feel the genuine warmth of the host's voice and style, talking about goings on in his community, which, of course, is one of the largest plots of reservation real estate in the West. I got a good feeling about the station, and about radio--what it was meant to be in the first place--a place where you hear the sound your town makes.

When America's original radio stations--our native electronic medium--realize their principal limitation is also their principal strength, a troubled industry will be on a trail back to relevance. Want to make it happen, radio guy? Take a look around your own reservation.