POWER PLAY: WELCOME TO THE RADIO DEAD ZONE

There is a St. Louis club band called the Finns which in its song "Goodbye Radio" laments the lack of variety in musical programming found on the airwaves.

"Why don't you play some new songs? I'm so tired of your tired old songs. ..."

The Finns don't realize how lucky they have it. St. Louis radio is a buffet at a five-star restaurant compared to the soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich that is the Cape Girardeau market.

Now I have some friends who work in local radio (that is, I did before today), and, guys, I don't hold you personally responsible. There are nefarious forces beyond your control at work. (The people in marketing, I'll bet.)

To be fair, Cape radio is probably the best it has been during the years I've lived here. However, an otherwise pleasant journey south on Interstate 55 is invariably marred as one nears Cape and becomes stranded in the Radio Dead Zone that envelops this area.

The inventor of the cassette player, I suspect, grew up around here. The dial has little to offer.

The many country stations available are right out for me as I find that particular brand of music incomprehensible.

Country songs seem to revolve around a basic theme of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy develops chronic alcohol problem and spends the rest of his days alone with his dog steadily destroying his liver. (The boy's liver that is, not the dog's.) This is particularly confusing as the poor, defenseless liver never causes any of the problems in the first place.

Further, country musicians seem to know at the most only four chords and are never particularly excited about those. Now many fine bands embrace minimalism but compensate for any gaps in their musical training with unbridled enthusiasm. Green Day or the Offspring rarely get complex, but still effectively melt the brain right out of the skull. Country, on the other hand, is simultaneously simplistic and gutless.

As I see it, there are two tolerable stations in Cape -- Sorta Rock Radio and Rock 'n' Roll Relics. Both have some shortcomings.

The latter should really change its slogan from "You Know Every Song We Play" to "You Were Burned Out On Every Song We Played 10 Years Ago But We're Still Going to Make You Listen to `Piano Man' Twice Every Hour." A prime example of where the worlds of sadism and broadcasting converge.

The former station tries to exude the image of a high-energy rock station and fails miserably. One hint, fellas, Rod Stewart listlessly crooning about the necessity of a laissez-faire attitude towards some individual named Virginia smacks of adult contemporary. Also, the candy metal of the 1980s, thankfully, died some time ago. Show some compassion and let it rest in peace.

And stations everywhere need to grasp this simple truth: "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen prompts people to spin the dial quicker than the extraneous character wearing the red shirt gets killed at the beginning of "Star Trek" episodes. Just a few bars revive suppressed memories of Friday nights at the roller rink during junior high and images of Freddie Mercury's bridgework that drive otherwise well-adjusted people into therapy.

Now while extensive demographic research clearly shows that 100 percent of Marc Powerses between the ages of 18 and 34 are unhappy with the choices, that research also reveals to stations that Marc Powerses constitute a tiny segment of listeners. Majority tyranny, I say.

What we need is KMRC, The Station That Plays Only Music Marc Likes. A punk-funk-rock-alternative-blues-ska format destined to instill total vocabulary failure in those who like to label things. Fortunately, in Fantasy Radio Land I don't have to show a profit.

Still, there is a lot more out there to be heard.

Marc Powers is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.