Whether keeping the airwaves full of up-to-the-minute music news, lending a hand in community service or cranking out delicious black metal music, Kirby Ray is a man on the go. Last weekend, he was able to pack all three of his passions into a three-day span. Spoiler alert: it rocked.
Step 1 was turning up the music.
"Nothing better than having good music to listen to while you're working," Kirby Ray mused in his fitting DJ baritone. He smiled, easing on the volume knob on his switchboard. "I've blown several speakers out here over the years. They've put a limiter on it so I can only turn it up so loud now."
Step two in preparing his daily radio show on the Cape Girardeau-based River Radio 99.3 Real Rock, he explained, was scouring the latest rock headlines to make sure his planned bulletin was still sufficiently current.
"I gotta look and see if since 6 o'clock this morning anything huge has happened," he said.
After all, Ozzy Osbourne could have expired between Ray's leaving home and arriving in the office.
"That's always my example when people ask, 'Why are you always looking at every moment?'" he said. "That's what we do; our specialty is that and the listeners are counting on that so the moment Ozzy dies, I gotta have that information online. Now that's just an example. I hope he never dies."
Ozzy, by all accounts, was fine, but the same could not be said of the interview Ray had previously recorded, which had somehow been accidentally deleted from the on-air queue.
Having spent the day promoting the interview and with only minutes to go before it was to air, Ray admitted he was in a pickle. But with more than two decades of experience in a radio booth, his reaction was that of a consummate professional. In short order, he'd recovered an alternate version of the lost audio, reset the queue and sent a courtesy text to the interviewee, just in case he was tuned in.
"This is my job. This is what I do. This is the station I count on," he said. "I live for it. It's exciting. And people depend on it."
As an emissary of the radio station, Ray has become arguably the most identifiable local media personality in Cape Girardeau. That's due in part to the waist-length red ponytail, but it's also due to his way with people. He's quietly gregarious and seldom without his red point-and-shoot selfie camera.
He said when the organizers of the annual VintageNOW fashion show asked him to participate as a model, he said the fact it was a charity to benefit the Safe House For Women made it a no-brainer.
Stalking the runway Saturday evening, he cut a striking Norse-inspired figure, his hair in twin braids, eyes painted black, his rail-thin torso dotted with angular tattoos and crossed with furs and straps.
The typecasting made sense; the costume wasn't too far from the corpse makeup and goth spikes he wears to front Emaciation during his metal shows.
But backstage he was jovial as ever, mugging for cameras and genuinely enjoying the company of his fellow "vikings."
"It's an honor to be a part of [this event]," he said. "I think a lot of us are just happy to be able to help out."
Perhaps unsurprisingly for a DJ, Ray doesn't quite give a straight answer when it comes to a desert island album.
"AC/DC from the '70s," he said. "With Bon Scott, 'Dirty Deeds,' 'Highway to Hell;' that's my perfect band the way it sounds."
But then again, he added, Jethro Tull holds a timeless appeal.
"They sound like maybe a harmony or melody that could sound a thousand years old," he said.
And in Ray's mind, somewhere between those two paths lies his own black metal band, Emaciation.
Their music, he admitted, can at times be polarizing, considering its harshness, loudness and elaborate showmanship, but they try to incorporate riffs that might appeal to fans of more mainstream rock.
I don't care about limits or boundaries on what people say our genre is," he said. "We create what we want."
And just to be clear, he added, playing black metal is about playing black metal, not burning Scandinavian churches.
"To me it's just I like the cross picking guitar," he said. "The sound of the, 'EEEEERRRGGGGHH,' the grinding [vocals]. I could do that all day if you want."
So every Sunday, his band gathers in an old shed owned by Ray's friend Kev Steger to rehearse. Tuning up, Ray said the weekly practice is rejuvenating in a way he thought most creative people would understand.
"This is a no-drama environment," Ray said, twisting an earplug into place and shaking his hair out of its ponytail. "This is a place where we can all just relax and make music."
And with a four-count from drummer Dustin Farrar, they let it loose.
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