Analog Dreams (November 2021)

By Ray Charbonneau


It started with a cheap transistor radio Hugo got for his birthday when he was six years old. Hugo fell in love with the world he could hear through the tinny little speaker. At first it was ABBA and the Carpenters, but soon he was listening to all kinds of music and lusting after better equipment to listen to it on. 

The transistor radio was replaced by one of those all-in-one stereo systems, and then Hugo got a job at Tweeter Etc. and started buying components. The employee discount helped Hugo get into the low end of the high end, which only made him want more. More records and more volume, of course, but also more detailed imaging, more three-dimensionality, more depth in the sound, a more lifelike soundstage that only improved as he continued to upgrade his system.

Hugo’s first wife left him after he replaced his copy of The Beatles’ Revolver album with one “slightly better” for the twelfth time, this one for a cost of only $7,000. His second wife left him when he told her that their next house was going to have to have a room dedicated to audio. 

Hugo spent many long hours in that custom-built audio room, with the lights dimmed and his eyes closed, picturing the musicians in his mind. As his system continued to improve, he could almost see Ella Fitzgerald singing, feel the sweat flying from Keith Moon’s flailing arms, or smell the whiskey on Keith Richard’s breath.

Hugo wasn't a vinyl purist. He listened to plenty of digital music, jumping into CDs when they came out and subscribing to all the streaming services. But there was something about his late 1970s vinyl albums, the ones made with obsessive care by the last master producers before all the analog studio equipment was replaced with easier to manipulate digital. There was plenty of fine music made after that time, but none of it filled the room in quite the same way as those late 70s albums by Fleetwood Mac or Traffic or Cat Stevens.

Hugo tried to buy the best sounding records, usually brand-new discs direct from the manufacturer, carefully produced, pressed on expensive heavy-duty vinyl, and treated carefully from the day they were made. 

But Hugo had been buying used records since before they were antiques, when they were just a cheaper way to get the music he wanted. He still liked to go out to record stores and dig through the bins looking for music that he'd never heard before, whether it was something brand new or forty or fifty years old.

Occasionally, Hugo would discover a record from back in the day that had been treated well and was still like new, sometimes even in its shrink wrap, unopened. Maybe it was a record he'd been hunting for years, or maybe he just liked the way the cover looked. Those finds were the most rewarding.


He was on one of those trips, flipping through record bins while listening to the worn Stevie Wonder album playing in the background, when he came across an album with a cover showing a picture of a tall, rangy woman, sitting by herself in a dark room, titled simply “Kylie Allison”. Probably just another 70’s singer-songwriter, Hugo thought, but there was something about the way she looked that caught his eye. She looked like she spent a lot of time outdoors, maybe not a farmer or laborer, but someone who was into hiking or running or some other outdoor activity. The chair she was sitting on looked comfortable, but she wasn’t entirely relaxed even as she lounged in it.

Hugo had never heard of either Kylie Allison or the record label. A quick Google search didn’t turn up anything and the record wasn't available on Spotify to check it out before he bought. Hugo guessed it was probably some local independent record. Those were often cheaply made, but this record was still in its shrink wrap and it was only seven bucks, so Hugo figured “Why not?” and added it to his pile to take home. 

It was two weeks later, after installing his latest equipment purchase, a new phono preamp with a transformer-coupled output stage, when Hugo finally got around to slitting open the shrink wrap and pulling the record out to give it a spin. Hugo cleaned the record, then put it on the turntable in the equipment closet at the side of the room and carefully placed the needle in the lead-in groove. There was no discernable noise as the needle tracked to the beginning of the music while Hugo walked back to his listening chair in the middle of the room. 

Hugo sat back in the chair and closed his eyes as the music started. It was just Kylie and her guitar, but the production was surprisingly textured with incredibly detailed imaging. Combined with Hugo’s system, it made for an extraordinarily rich soundstage that expanded beyond the speakers to fill the room. In his mind, Hugo could almost see Kylie sitting in a club, hunched over her guitar, singing into one of those expensive microphones with the fancy windscreens, left hand sliding up and down the fretboard, right hand strumming out the chords or picking out notes. 

The first song, a plaintive song in a minor key about longing for something you can't have called “It’s Not For Me”, came to an end. As the second song started up, something poppier with a faster beat, Hugo opened his eyes and started to reach for the album cover so he could find out who it was that had produced such an exceptional sounding record. As he did, he was shocked to see the woman from the album cover apparently sitting there in the room with him, eyes closed, concentrating on her playing. 

Hugo froze. ‘What the hell?’ he thought. He closed his eyes, then reopened them. Kylie was still there, still singing.

Hugo did not understand what he was seeing. He supposed it had to be a hallucination, but he couldn’t figure out why he was hallucinating. Hugo had experimented with drugs in his day, but those days were long gone, other than some edible weed now and then. And pot never made him hallucinate. Even back when he was tripping semi-regularly, he never saw anything as realistic as what he was seeing now. Was it a stroke? Something in that sushi that he ate for dinner?

Hugo could feel his heart beating faster and faster, almost in time with the music. He stared at Kylie, seemingly real, seemingly focused on her music as the second song came crashing to an end in a jumble of chords.

Kylie didn't disappear when the sound did. During the few seconds that the needle crossed the track band between songs, she just fiddled a bit with her guitar tuning to get ready for the next song. 

There were five cuts on side one. Hugo watched Kylie play them all, seemingly unaware that she had an audience. As side one ended and the needle moved across the runout to the lock groove at the end, Hugo sat there stunned. Was there something wrong with him? Did the new preamp create imaging so realistic that his brain was confused? His reverie was interrupted by the soft clicking of the needle automatically lifting. As it did, Kylie faded away.


Hugo got up and took the record off the turntable. He stared at the disc for a moment, looking for anything special about this particular slab of vinyl, but there was nothing. Hugo flipped the disc over and placed it back on the turntable, brushed the record off, and started playing side two.

He stood in front of the equipment closet watching as the first song started. At first, nothing appeared between the speakers. Hugo was relieved, thinking that whatever had happened to him, at least it was over. But when he walked back to his chair and sat down Kylie faded back into view.

Hugo sat there anxiously as the four songs on side two played, wondering what could be going on with him. Before the fourth song started Kylie looked up and winked at Hugo. Oddly enough that settled him down a little bit, enough to let him sit back and collect his thoughts as the song, an eight-minute instrumental, continued. Perhaps he was going crazy, but if he was, there were worse ways to go. 

He listened to the rest of side two, then as the needle lifted and Kylie faded away, he got up and put the record back in its sleeve. 

What was happening? ‘Maybe it wasn’t me,’ thought Hugo. ‘I just changed my system. Maybe for once the new preamp is as special as the ads say it is?’ To test that idea, Hugo went to his record shelves and pulled out a couple of his old favorites, records that in his opinion were exceptionally well produced. First, he tried a limited edition 12-inch single of Fleetwood Mac's “Go Your Own Way” that had extraordinary imaging. When he sat in the chair and closed his eyes, he could hear a difference with the new preamp. But when he opened them, he saw nothing between the speakers. Next, he tried his Mobile Fidelity pressing of Supertramp’s “Even in the Quietest Moments” with the same result. Then Hugo thought that maybe if he played another record by a solo artist that would help. He pulled his copy of Neil Young's “Harvest” album from the box set that he owned and gave that a spin. Still nothing.

Hugo put the Kylie Allison record back on his turntable. As he sat back in his chair, Kylie came into view, singing and playing the first track. Then, as the song ended and the needle quietly traversed the track band to the second cut, Kylie looked up and said “Well, are you just going to sit there?” before looking back down at her guitar and starting the next song.

Hugo sat there stunned for a moment. Had he really just seen what he thought he had? Or was he suffering from some unknown malady that was turning his favorite space into a concert hall of horrors? He jumped up in a panic and ran over to the turntable. He was so rattled that he wasn't as careful as usual when he picked up the tonearm, accidently dragging the needle across the grooves for a second before lifting it off the vinyl. Shakily, Hugo put the record away, powered his system down, and went to bed. 


That night, after tossing and turning for a couple of hours, Hugo grabbed his phone from the charger to look for information about audio and visual hallucinations. The list of possible causes was scary: lesions on the brain stem, psychosis, dementia, and more. He was reading about Charles Bonnet syndrome when he decided he’d seen enough. Maybe there was something wrong with him, maybe not, but physically, except for the anxiety, he felt fine. Whatever the issue was, it didn't seem like something he needed to deal with immediately. 

‘Who knows,’ thought Hugo, ‘maybe the problem has gone away?’ Sleep wasn’t an option, so he got up and went back to his audio room. Hugo turned the system on and pulled out the Kylie record to give it another spin.

When he sat back in his chair Kylie reappeared. ‘Well, at least I wasn't imagining things,’ thought Hugo.

As “It's Not For Me” faded out, Kylie looked up, pushed her hair back, and said to Hugo, “Hey, you're back!”

“Are you talking to me?” asked Hugo. Almost immediately, he wanted to take the words back. Who else could she be talking to? For that matter, why should he care what she’s thinking? Wasn’t this just all in his head? 

While Hugo’s mind raced, Kylie had started singing the second track. She glanced over at Hugo and shrugged.

When the song reached the point where Hugo had dragged the needle across the surface, Hugo heard some crackling and the image of Kylie waivered for just a second. Then when the song ended, she said, “There’s nobody else here, silly!”

Bemused, Hugo replied, “That's okay,” but Kylie had already started into the third song, an upbeat tune called “There's Always A Way”. At the end of the song Hugo applauded and Kylie smiled at him, then continued on to song number four.

This one was a slow waltz with a chorus telling the listener to “just chill”. That seemed like a good idea to Hugo. Whatever was going on, it probably wouldn’t hurt anything if he relaxed and enjoyed the music. It also didn't hurt that Kylie was a good-looking woman. Hugo had been alone for quite a while. Even if she wasn't real, part of him enjoyed being with someone attractive. 

Hugo decided he might as well go with it, treat what his senses were telling him as real, and see where that took him. As the song ended, he introduced himself. “Hi. I’m Hugo,” he said.

“Hi there Hugo,” Kylie grinned, and started into the final cut, a rocker entitled “You Want It All”. The faster pace of the song brough out a little more intensity from Kylie as she put her head down and flailed away at the strings, her hair swinging in front of her eyes. When the song finished, she tossed her head to whip her hair back and threw up her hands in celebration. The needle lifted from the record and she disappeared.

Hugo decided that was enough for one night. He put the record away, shut everything down and went to bed.

The next day Hugo decided to assume this wasn’t all in his head and put together a plan to systematically work out what was going on. He pulled out Kylie’s record, started the turntable spinning, and tried putting the needle down at the beginning of the third track on side one. Kylie didn't appear. It seemed that she would only appear if he started the record at the beginning and let it play through. 

Next, Hugo discovered that if he got up, Kylie wasn’t visible until he sat back down. He could only see Kylie when he was in the ideal listening position, centered in the room in between his speakers. Of course, if Hugo picked up the needle while he was up, Kylie wasn't there when he went back to his chair, even if the record was still spinning.

Hugo was sitting and thinking what else he might try when a song ended and Kylie asked him, “What are you trying to do?”

“Well, all this is... unusual,” said Hugo. Kylie started into the next song, but she kept looking at him quizzically as she sang, so he continued, the words anxiously rushing out. “I'm trying to figure out what's going on. I thought it might be easier to figure out the mechanics of how all this works then it would be to try to understand why. I don't know about you, but to me this is strange, and more than a little disturbing. I've played thousands of records and you're the first person to ever appear while one of them was playing. Maybe you know what's happening? For that matter, even if you do know, I'm not sure how you could explain it in the, you know, the few seconds you've got between songs where you can talk.”

Having gotten that off his chest, Hugo waited impatiently for the song to end. When it did, Kylie said, “New to me too. Let's think,” and moved on to the next song.

Since it appeared that Kylie could listen to Hugo while she played, he went on. “The simplest explanation is that I'm hallucinating, that there's something wrong with me. But I don't feel that way. I feel okay.”

The song ended, and Kylie said, “You're fine. Trust me.”

“Thanks. I'm counting on you to help me prove that,” said Hugo. But how could a hallucination prove she wasn’t a hallucination? Hugo sat in silence, pondering that thought. He prided himself on his rationality. If that began to crumble, he didn’t know what he’d do.

The side ended. As the needle made its way to the end of the record, Kylie said, “Play the other side,” then disappeared.


Hugo turned the record over and started side two playing. At the end of the first cut, Kylie said, “Wait until we get to ‘Lost Battles’”, which was the name of the long instrumental track. 

When they got there, Kylie said, “There. Now I don't have to sing. That gives us a few minutes where we can talk.”

“Okay,” said Hugo. “Is this as weird for you as it is for me?”

“Hey, I'm just doing what I do,” said Kylie. “This isn't at all weird for me.”

“You're only here when I play the record, and as far as I can tell it only happens with your record,” said Hugo. “That’s just weird.”

“If you ask me, that's pretty cool,” said Kylie. “We put a lot of effort into that record. I never thought it would pay off this way but still, pretty cool.”

“I don't know,” said Hugh. “This has never happened before, and I can’t explain it, except as some sort of hallucination.”

“Well, I know it's not, but I'm not quite sure how I can prove that to you,” said Kylie. “For thousands of years philosophers have been trying to prove that there’s some sort of ‘objective reality’? If they haven’t done it, how can you expect me to? So relax and accept maybe?” 

“Don't get me wrong,” said Hugo, “it's a fun hallucination if that's all it is. But it's a little scary to be thinking about what might be causing it.”

“Well, I don't want you to worry just because of me,” said Kylie.

“Don't go away on my account,” said Hugo. “So far it seems harmless. It’s certainly weird, but it's more fun than I've had in a while. Almost makes everything I've spent on the stereo equipment worthwhile.”

 “Well, the song is ending, so I won't be able to talk at length for a while,” said Kylie. “Let me think about it and see what I can come up with.”

The song, and the side, ended and Kylie disappeared. Hugo picked up the record to turn it over, but then decided to put it back down and try starting with side two. As the music began, Kylie reappeared.

“Good, you’re back,” said Hugo. Kylie looked at him quizzically as she played the first cut. “Apparently I don't have to start with side one. That can save us a lot of time.”

At the end of the track, Kylie said, “Those are pretty good songs you’re skipping.”

“Someone’s got an ego,” Hugo replied. Kylie smiled, tilted her head, and raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement as she started the second song.

When they got to “Lost Battles” again, Kylie said, “Well, I've been giving it some thought, but I haven't come up with anything. I haven't known you very long, but you don't seem crazy to me.” She smiled. “I guess that probably doesn't help very much. I can see why you might be concerned.”

“If I am crazy, there does seem to be a simple solution,” said Hugo. “All I have to do is stop playing your record. No music, no hallucinations.”

“Well, that's not very much fun for me,” said Kylie.

“That brings up a point,” said Hugo. “Where do you go when the music’s not playing? You know, when you’re not here?” 

 “I’m just not,” she replied. “When I come back, I know that some time has passed, but I don’t feel it passing, or much of anything else, while I’m away. I’m just not. When you think about it, in some sense that means you're my whole life.”

“Hey!” said Hugo. “Not much pressure there.”

“Not your fault,” said Kylie. “Look at it this way: if you truly believe you're responsible for my happiness, for my existence, that makes me real, and not a hallucination of yours. Alternatively, if I am a hallucination, at least you don't have to worry about hurting me.”

“Now I'll have to give that some thought,” Hugo said, and the record ended.

Hugo thought about playing the record again so he could talk to Kylie some more. He enjoyed talking with her, and just as importantly she seemed to enjoy talking with him. But remembering what she'd said about where she was when the music wasn't playing, he decided not to rush things and put the record away for the time being.


The next day, when Hugo thought about talking to Kylie again, he decided he would put on chinos and a collared shirt first, rather than just going in jeans and a T-shirt the way he usually would. He felt a little silly about it, but he figured it wouldn't hurt, and for some reason he wanted to impress her. So he got changed and then went to listen to the record again. 

Kylie raised an eyebrow when she saw him, and at the first track band she asked him, “Are you dressed up?” 

“Yes,” said Hugo, “I am. What do you think?” 

The next song had already started, but Kylie smiled at him and nodded. When the track ended, she said, “I appreciate the effort.” 

Under normal circumstances, Hugo often stumbled trying to find something to say when interacting with a good-looking, confident woman. But this was different. Kylie was certainly pretty but given that she disappeared every time Hugo got up out of his chair, nothing physical was ever going to happen. That removed a lot of the stress for Hugo in the relationship, allowing him to be a little more confident, or as an ex had once said, ‘a little less like a doofus’ than usual. 

Still, Hugo wanted his relationship with Kylie, odd as it was, to be more normal. The fixed format of her album made that difficult. Most of the time Kylie was with Hugo she was singing, and while Hugo enjoyed the music, he wanted more time to talk.

Hugo had noticed that at the end of each side Kylie would stay around until the needle lifted. The next time he went into the audio room, he disabled the automatic shut-off so the needle wouldn't lift at the end of the record. During the first song Hugo explained what he’d done to Kylie. “Maybe we can talk with the needle in the lock groove while the record continues to spin.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Kylie said at the end of the track. “When we get to the end of the record, we'll give it a try.” 

The music ended and Kylie stayed visible while the disc kept spinning as the needle followed the run-out across the dead wax and into the lock groove. Unfortunately, as the needle tracked around the lock groove over and over, Kylie was also stuck in a loop. She got as far as “I'm not sure this is such a good id-” before repeating herself.

Hugo stopped the record, turned the automatic shut-off back on, and put the record back on to play. When the needle reached the end of track one and Kylie could talk, she said, “That was weird. Don't do it again!”

After that experience Hugo and Kylie accepted the constraints on their unusual relationship. Hugo minimized them as much as he could by almost always playing side two. That allowed them to hold longer conversations with Hugo doing most of the talking at the start and then Kylie taking over as much as she wanted once she was free to talk more while “Lost Battles” played.

As spring turned to summer outside, those talks became a high point of Hugo’s day. They discussed whatever came to mind; music, their personal lives (mostly Hugo's, of course) and Kylie's life before the record was recorded. Kylie liked hearing about how things had changed since her record was pressed but didn't like talking much about politics and for her, sports were something you did, not something you talked about.

At one point, Hugo asked Kylie what it felt like to be creative, to write your own songs and perform them. “I always feel a little jealousy when I think about what it's like to be a musician,” he said. “I love music so much, but I've never really been able to play it, and no one wants to hear me sing.” 

“I can't imagine not being able to play my guitar,” said Kylie. “Hey, in this existence, it's all I do. And I'm fine with that.”

“But since you brought it up,” she continued, “you obviously put an incredible amount of time and money into your stereo system and into the music you listen to. What do you get out of all that that makes it worth your while?” 

“It helps me feel,” said Hugo. “Different songs bring out different emotions. Sometimes I get what the artist is singing about, sometimes it just reminds me of something in my past. However it works, I enjoy it. It's sort of like what talking with you does for me.”

“Well, I'm glad that all I need is a guitar to get the same sort of feelings,” said Kylie. She laughed. “It's much easier to carry around.” 


One fall day, when Hugo turned on his stereo system prior to his usual chat with Kylie, instead of the customary hum of hardware warming up, he heard a pop as one of the tubes on his phono preamp blew out. Hugo didn't have a replacement tube handy, so he swapped in an older preamp he kept around as a spare. But when he put the record on Kylie did not appear.

The only source for the tube he needed was a small company in China. He ordered a new tube, but that was going to take at least two weeks to arrive. Hugo realized he didn’t want to wait that long. Luckily, his local audio store had one more of the same model preamp in stock. Hugo rushed to the store to buy it, wryly telling himself that this might be the first time a female companion of his would actually appreciate him spending thousands of dollars on his system. 

But when he connected the new preamp to the system Kylie still didn’t appear, leaving Hugo nothing to do but wait anxiously for the new tube to arrive. He missed Kylie and was terrified that he might never be able to recreate whatever conditions had allowed her to appear in the first place.

Finally, UPS delivered the new tube and Hugo plugged it into his original preamp. When he put the record on and the music started, Kylie appeared. 

“Oh, thank God you're back!” said Hugo.

He explained to Kylie what had happened. She took it calmly. “The way I figured it, since I don’t know where I came from and I don’t know where I go when I’m not here, all I can do is relax and enjoy whatever time I have. There’s this Wayfarers song:

‘The consciousness can never die

Although it seems to fade. 

It doth but pass to other forms 

Which thoughts and acts have made.’

Seems applicable.”

“Sounds Buddhist,” said Hugo. 

“The Wayfarers were, but I don't know if I am,” said Kylie. “If this is enlightenment, I didn’t do much to earn it. Of course, that’s supposed to be the way, right?”  

With the system restored, Hugo and Kylie settled back into their routine. After weeks of repeatedly playing the record, Hugo thought to ask Kylie, “Do you ever get tired of playing the same songs over and over again just so we can talk?” 

“I played these songs thousands of times before I put them on the record,” said Kylie. “If I didn't like them, I wouldn't be playing them. But don’t you get bored listening to the same songs over and over again?” 

“Well,” said Hugo, “the songs are the same every time, but it's not just the songs. You're here, and you're different every time. That makes it worth coming back for.” 

“You know what might be fun?” asked Kylie. “You've been listening to these songs for a long time. I'll bet you know them pretty well by now. Why don't you try singing with me next time?”

They gave that a try and found that Hugo was totally incapable of staying on key except by accident. Still, they had fun, and Hugo found that he could make it through one song in particular, called “Not Enough”, without wincing at too many flat notes.

There’s not enough beer

To solve all your problems

Not enough time

If you just wait

Too many politicians

To screw in a lightbulb

Too many gods

To know where to pray

The two of them would harmonize on the refrain:

It’s up to you

Not you alone

Just be the change

And lead the way


It was springtime again when things began to change. At first Hugo wasn't quite sure why. 

He had put the record on, playing side two as usual so that Kylie would have more time to talk. Then, during the second song, Kylie sort of faded out for a short time before fading back in. Hugo frowned, but since the record went on normally from there, he hoped that maybe it was just one of those things. 

The same thing happened again the next day. This time Hugo mentioned it to Kylie. She had noticed it too and had no idea why it occurred. 

It kept happening every time Hugo played the record, and then a week later it happened in another spot. So the next time Hugo sat down to play the record, instead of watching Kylie, he closed his eyes and listened closely. By this point he knew where the first fadeout would occur, and when the needle got there, he could hear a faint scratchiness, just a little wear and tear. Apparently, that’s all it took.

Hugo had been playing vinyl records for a long time and knew that they didn't last forever. Even though Hugo had been taking special care of this one, apparently it was starting to wear out. He blamed himself. It wasn't like he hadn’t played it over and over, in order to talk to Kylie as much as possible. 

Hugo wasn't sure what to do. The more he played the record, the sooner Kylie might go away forever. But that just made him feel like he should play the record more often in order to get as much of Kylie as possible while he could. He knew that was not helping, but it didn't change the way he felt.

In a panic, Hugo went to the internet and searched for other copies of the record. He found a few supposedly in mint condition, even one that was still sealed, but none of those discs brought Kylie to life when he played them.

Hugo kept his fears to himself. He managed to play the record a little less frequently. When Kylie noticed, she asked Hugo, “Why haven't we been talking as much? Are you getting tired of me?” 

“No, no,” said Hugo. “Not at all. But you know how you're starting to fade out every once in a while? That's because I've been playing your record too often. It's wearing out, in spite of everything I can do to make it last longer.” 

When they got to “Last Battles”, Kylie had time to respond. “We knew something like this was gonna happen, right? This whole thing was precarious from day one. If it wasn't the record wearing out, you might blow out a speaker or you’d have to replace the needle or there’d be something else that ended it. At least this way, we know it’s happening before it’s too late to say goodbye. Let’s not let anxiety or guilt ruin whatever time we might have left.” 

“I wish it were that easy,” said Hugo. “When you go away, you’re gone, no desires, no regrets. Isn’t that what nirvana is supposed to be? But I'm left behind, all alone.” 

“Oh, come on Hugo,” said Kylie. “Haven't you been paying any attention to the music we've been playing? I thought we were more in tune than that. Remember:”

Not enough time

If you just wait 

“Don’t just spin, Hugo. Put the record away,” said Kylie. “Put the record away. Take whatever comfort you can in the fact that this time it’s true when a woman tells you, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Anyhow, you can't live through me, or anyone else. It's all up to you. So go out and find whatever it is you need for yourself, and when you find it, come back here and put the record on the turntable. Even if I don’t appear, I promise I’ll be listening. Who knows? Maybe your story will make for a good song.”


Text copyright © 2021 by the author. Illustration by Pixabay, used under license.


About the Author: Ray Charbonneau is the author of a number of books on running. That number is currently five. His work has appeared in the Boston Globe, the Christian Science Monitor, Marathon & Beyond, and many other publications. He's also the host of Tardis Jukebox (https://www.y42k.com/category/wmfo/), which has been called "the finest hour of music on the radio (and online)". Find out more at y42k.com (https://www.y42k.com/).