Amazing Classic Stories from a DJ.

Speaker 1:

Taking a walk with Buzz Knight.

Buzz Knight:

Well, I’m Buzz Knight, the host of the Takin’ A Walk podcast, and welcome to another in our series of episodes on Greenwich Village. My guest today is a dear friend who planted himself in front of the microphone in New York City about 30 years ago, and he continues to thrive. He’s spent over two decades on Q104.3, New York City’s Classic Rock Station. He and I spent time on the air staff of the legendary 102.7 WNEW-FM. Welcome to Takin’ A Walk, Ken Dashow.

Ken Dashow:

Buzz, it’s great to see you again. It brings back so many great memories of working with you. And the good but also frightening news is that 2022, this is my 40th anniversary on the air in New York, which is, A, cool, but on the other hand, ah, Jesus, 40 years.

Buzz Knight:

Oh, man. When’s the book coming out?

Ken Dashow:

Yeah, really?

Buzz Knight:

Well, when did you first know you were hooked on this radio thing, man?

Ken Dashow:

It’s a weird thing. As little kids, kids want to be a ball player or a fireman or an astronaut or a doctor, and you have these fantasies of what you want to do. These days, kids grow up wanting to be a YouTube star, but that’s a whole nother chapter of all this. But as a kid watching the Mets and wanting to play baseball, and it was something about radio, that friendly voice, that big smiley voice that was telling me, “Here’s the new Beatles song, and here’s this new song.” And it was in my bedroom.

And I don’t know why, but even as a kid hearing the big voices of WMCA, I was a good guy, not an All-American. There were two big AM stations in New York. For some reason, and I don’t know why, I just thought, “I want to do that.” And I don’t know, it just pulled me like a thing that had me by the collar, just dragging me. I was always going to be the artsy-fartsy kid. I was smart, I had good grades, but it was movies, number one, theater, and my fallback was radio, much to the shock of the rest of my family. But my mom and dad were like, “Look, do the thing that you love and just work hard at it. Just be great at it and you’ll be fine.”

Buzz Knight:

Did Irving and Adele Dashow get to listen to you on the radio?

Ken Dashow:

Yeah, thank God that they heard me be before they passed. They lived okay, but they heard me in my first job. My friends were delivering pizza in Brooklyn, getting $3 an hour, and at 19, I got my first radio job doing weekends at XL Country in Newton, New Jersey, which was 76 miles away. So, in my ’69 Cutlass, whose speedometer had broken at a quarter of a million miles and burned about 50/50 gas and oil, I got $1.76 an hour for a five-hour show.

So I don’t know about these youngsters today, Buzz, but if you’ve total in gas, tolls, and if I bought a sandwich, I was pretty much losing $5 a show. But I’m 19 and I’m in. I’m on the air. I’m being paid to be a disc jockey. I don’t know anything about country music, but I’m Cousin Ken in XL Country and I’m in, and that’s all that mattered.

Buzz Knight:

That’s so funny. I think Mark Chernoff, our old boss and our dear friend, was on an earlier episode of Takin’ A Walk, and if I’m not mistaken, didn’t he start at a country station as well, somewhere in Westchester County, maybe?

Ken Dashow:

He was the one running XL Country and he gave me my first job.

Buzz Knight:

Aha.

Ken Dashow:

He needed somebody on Sunday nights. It was the end of the Mets game, and then you had to run the gospel service and then there were three hours on the air where you get to be a DJ, and that’s all that mattered was those three hours.

Buzz Knight:

I did not realize that Mark hired you there. That’s great. My God. Wow.

Ken Dashow:

Barbara Mandrell still sleeping single in that double bed? I can’t believe that. She’s so pretty.

Buzz Knight:

Now, since so much of this series is focused in and around Greenwich Village, were you able to venture to the Village from the mean streets of Brooklyn?

Ken Dashow:

Yeah. Born and raised in Brooklyn and very quickly, high school, Poly Prep in Brooklyn, big sort of science and business and big sports school, and I love playing sports, but I was too small. Through puberty, I didn’t get big and strong. I’m 5’6″, so as much as I had talent, everybody else was bigger than me, so I couldn’t play varsity sports. But I wrote plays. I was in the theater program. I did every play. I wrote my own play and put it on. And we didn’t have a radio station, so I sold pizza and cupcakes and I built a four-watt radio station.

And I took that and as far as the college goes, I figured every school has classes and classrooms and teachers. I just cared about the theater and the radio station, so I went to Hobart College because it had a gorgeous radio station and a really nice theater program, and I did that for a year. Then when I came back from that, I sent out my tapes and I went to NYU film school, so that’s when Mark Chernoff hired me on weekends doing country. So Monday through Friday, I’m writing scripts, I’m trying to shoot with my little student films. I’m trying to get work on commercials and things to learn how the business works. And on weekends I’m driving out to Newton, New Jersey.

And for whatever reason, as opposed to drinking beer and trying to hook up and get girls, not that I didn’t want it, but the switch was just on as from 18 on, it’s like, I had to get-go and I had to do this, I had to do this. That’s why I came back to New York, and instead of joining the NYU station, I sent out my tapes and that was it. But the biggest thing I learned at NYU is I fell in love with a girl and we moved into her Thompson Street apartment right on Bleecker Street and Thompson. And the best education I ever got at NYU was living in Greenwich Village at 19 years old. That was something.

Buzz Knight:

Wow. I got chills. That’s so cool. What were some of the favorite haunts there? I mean, look, I always felt The Bottom Line was almost like NEW-FM’s other studio in terms of the relationship and the shows that were broadcast from The Bottom Line. What are some of your favorite places and memories in the Village of shows and places?

Ken Dashow:

It’s funny, what are some of my favorite places? Yes, they’re all of my favorite places. But you asked me this. It’s so funny, the things we forget in life, or who is that guy we worked with, or whatever. But that period of time, 19 in the Village, early ’80s, no late ’70s. Can’t forget any of it. It’s so much a part of my DNA and influenced so much of me. The Bottom Line right there in West 4th Street by NYU was the first show I ever saw in the Village. It was Blood, Sweat & Tears, and I was just leaving class and went, “Blood, Sweat & Tears, really? Literally down the block from class?, I’ll buy a ticket.” And you realize, it’s that easy. Every band you want to see is playing here at The Bottom Line. I’ll just keep coming in.

And then when you move there, and literally, immediately, you’re a New Yorker. It’s the one thing about being in New York. You don’t have to drive. If you’re living there, you don’t have to say, “Well, how’s traffic?” or “It’s raining.” You’re there. So, The Bottom Line, The Village Gate is down the block with the greatest jazz artists who ever lived. And there’s a club scene with open mic nights and cool acts at The Bitter End, and down the block from that is Kenny’s Castaways and Café Wha?, where Bob Dylan started is still there, and all the cafés are still there. There’s a stool and a spotlight in every café. It was just vibrating, the entire thing. It was the tail end of the glory days of the Village, but it was still there. The energy of just people, students, and everybody trying to make it, musicians and comedians, and you’re just walking with upcoming stars and people who live there and students, and that collective energy is something that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Buzz Knight:

How do you feel about the Village these days? I mean, do you feel like it still has the energy? Now, on one of these episodes, Danny Fields and I walked through the Village and Danny’s perspective, obviously, is always unique, but for him, it was certainly a bit mournful going over to where CBGB’s used to be and seeing a fancy T-shirt joint.

Ken Dashow:

Yeah, I mean that’s what’s happened to it and truly to the detriment of the neighborhood and everywhere else in the world. And I mean in the world where corporations came in and big box stores could pay a lot more rent than a club owner can. And this venue is now a drug store and at least an upscale t-shirt shop where you’ve got a really fancy store where CBGBs was, and they sell cools stereo components and things, but it’s where the stage was, is the stage is there. But that’s a memory.

The Bottom Line that I pass by every day when I’m walking back from work where I saw all of these amazing shows, the Ramones and name an artist that we love and listened to where I saw them, Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, all those bands of the ’70s, Rock Pile, Squeeze, Billy Joel doing a show from there and doing his impression of Bruce Springsteen, well that’s now a Starbucks. And I sit there and look at it going, it’s us Starbucks. You can’t imagine what this place meant.

And I know it’s memories and all that, but what changed for me, my whole perspective, the magic of it. I went to see a comedy show. Tuesday nights was comedy shows at the Bitter End. And it was a local guy, really funny cockney guy, David Copperfield, who’s a host. This is when I got to NEWs. He’s like, “Oh man, you should come down man. You should come down.” And I’m funny, we tell stories on the air and he got up on stage and said, “Hey, got a surprise for you in a bit, this lad Ken Dashow, from NEW’s going to come up, do a few minutes.”

I had literally never done standup in my life. And I said, “David, I don’t do this.” “Oh man, you’d be great.” “No, I don’t have an act. I don’t.” He goes, and he pulls me into the kitchen. He goes, “Tell me one joke. Yeah, no, just tell me a joke. Tell me one of your favorite jokes. Great, tell me a second joke. There’s your act. You’re going to two jokes I’ll come get.” And he literally threw me, no figuratively, threw me into the deep end of the standup pool and it went okay. And he’s like, “Great man. Great, all right, you did. You just did two minutes, you did two and a half minutes on my watch. I want another two and a half minutes next week. I want to have five minutes.” And he forced me.

He took me on the bike with training wheels and taught me how to build a standup back. And I started doing standup and there’s The Bitter End and there’s on the walls, there’s pictures of Richard Pryor and Dylan and every George Carlin and Neil Young. And you’re there on this little stage with a microphone and I’m sorry, you can’t not realize the people who preceded you on that stage with the same two lights and a microphone. And there was some magic in that.

Buzz Knight:

Yeah, no kidding. Wow.

Ken Dashow:

I’m hosting the comedy evening, When I Tuesday and it’s going well. And I’m kibitzing, I’m bringing up this act that when you’re the host, you’re doing a little shtick in between the different mediums and I’m on stage and I see a guy walk in and you could just feel the air change and he’s got a hoodie and a hat and a leather jacket and he stands at the bar. And so he gives him the beer and I look over and it was Bob Dylan and he walked in and I just looked and I just knew, I didn’t make a mention, I didn’t say anything, I didn’t do anything. And I could feel he was tense.

I just kept doing my act and did the thing. And he was the next comedian. And I looked over, I just glanced, did the next one. And afterwards I came back towards the bar where we would hang out and just stood next to him. And without looking at him, I just said, “Everything’s cool. We love having you here.” And without him turning to me, he said, “Thanks.” And so we never looked at each other. But I had to tell him, I hope what I wanted to say is I hope the love of God, you understand what it means that you’re standing here with a beer watching what’s happening now when you built an entire world here 20 years ago.

Buzz Knight:

Well that takes me to another Bob Dylan story, which I’ve told before on this podcast. I put it under my regrets part of life. But I’ll let you tell the story. When we saw Bob Dylan while we were at NEW, when our dear friend, late friend, Rocky del Balzo and Paul Rappaport took myself and you and my wife and your wife at the time and some others up to see Mr. Dylan, would you tell the story about the shot of whiskey?

Ken Dashow:

Oh sure. Terrified to meet Bob as we all are. And they’re afraid. And it’s the first time for folks listening, record company promo guys. They would walk into the Vatican and say, “Hi, Pope Paul Rappaport, CBS Records. How are you doing? Listen, I’ve got an artist.” There’s no fear in these guys. But they were afraid to knock on the door. It was like softly tapping on the Godfather’s door and came in. I’m like, “Don’t be an idiot. Don’t be an idiot. Don’t say anything stupid. Just say ‘Hi,'” and walked in, and “This is Ken Dashow. How you doing?” And Bob said, “Want some whiskey?” And everybody was looking at me like… And I just thought, “No, you don’t think I’m going to take a shot of whiskey with Bob Dylan? You must be crazy if you think I’m passing up this opportunity.” And I said, “L’Chaim.” And he went, “Oh, okay.” And we toasted and had some whiskey.

Buzz Knight:

I did not realize I was so petrified there.

Ken Dashow:

I know.

Buzz Knight:

I didn’t realize you were the one that took the shot of whiskey. I didn’t. I’m the lame-o that was so petrified looking at him like, “You’re the voice of a generation. My God, I can’t answer you.” So that’s my only regret in life, not taking the shot. So you took the freaking shot.

Ken Dashow:

Had to, because would this opportunity ever come up again? That Phil Lesh passing you a joint. I don’t know what’s in it, but I’m never not going to do that. To say there was a moment in my life where somebody from the Grateful Dead passed me a joint and I took a puff and passed it back. Check mark. I mean that’s done. I mean, just that, that’s where it, that’s that is done. I’ve met Bob, I met Bob three times in my life and I never want to meet him again because each time it was better than the last. And I don’t want to ruin, it’s too big a chance to get him on a bad night. But each time he was funnier and friendlier and it’s a digression from the Village. But the last time I met him, and I can’t remember, I swear to God I can’t remember what the venue was.

It was some show, and again, it was our late friend, Rocky del Balzo, Paul Rappaport, come back, VIP. And it was before the show, “All right, let’s clear out.” And I got caught. And for folks that don’t understand, you’re supposed to, you leave because you don’t want to interfere with an artist. They have to come on stage unless he’s a dear friend, they’re focused, they’ve got to do a show. And I got stuck. I couldn’t get out because they had closed the get out of here, but Bob was coming down from the dressing room. So I literally just averted in my eyes. I tried to be invisible. I stood in this sort of little empty room and was just averting my eyes so he wouldn’t see me, and I just feel these two eyes just glaring at me, two feet away from me, just glaring at me and it’s just burning a hole in me.

And I finally turned around away and he said, “Do I know you?” I said, “No, I know I’ve met you.” “Ken, I work in radio.” “Radio? New York radio?” “With Scott Muni.” And he’s about to go in. He goes, “Oh my god. Scotty man, Scott Muni. Man. That’s great. So you’re at NEW?” “Yeah.” “So we didn’t have anything like that when I got here. It was just AM radio. We didn’t have any cool radio. I couldn’t get on AM radio.” And Buzz, he’s doing the interview that all of radio has been trying to get from him since 1964. And he is just going on effusively about New York life, living here in the Village, what it was like. But AM radio was out of scene. So they had to build their own scene, not because they wanted to but because it didn’t exist. And they were hoping to break through to the mainstream, but they knew he’s doing the entire interview just to me.

Like, “Please God, make my ears a tape recorder, please God make my brain a tape recorder.” And the stage managers glaring at him and the stage managers just getting angrier and said, “Bob, this is amazing. I love this but I think you’re needed.” And he said, “What?” I said, “Yeah, I think it’s time.” He goes, oh yeah. Hey can you hang after the show? Keep talking.” “Sure.” And that’s when I realized I felt that’s Bob. I just felt like talking. I felt like telling you this story. Now you have a tongue face. And the fact that he is about to go on stage, God, this moment, in this moment I feel like doing this. I went, that’s what it is. That’s why, it’s because this moment is this moment.

And his road manager was going to kill me. And I said, you saw what happened? You saw I didn’t. He goes, “You can’t engage him, you cannot engage him”. I’m like, “I didn’t.” “You cannot engage him,” and stormed out. And I’m like, and it was just that moment. Then afterwards I’m not, I don’t bad feelings, he doesn’t remember that I’m with Roger McGuinn and Roger and I’m talking with Roger McGuinn and the road manager comes back and says to Roger, “He’d like to see you.” And I said, “Roger, it’s great talking to you. I have to go.” Roger said, “Why don’t you come with me?” And I said, “No, you know what? I had my moment. I don’t need to intrude because I know what the guy doesn’t want me in there.” He goes, “No, no, no, it’d be great. We don’t have anything to say to each other. We need someone to talk to. Come back with me.”

And I look at the manager and he just throws up his hands. And I went back and I’m sitting in like my Uncle Danny’s house with two older rockers going, “Oh remember this guy? Remember that guy? There was this guy used to work in the village. Oh remember was Café Wha? Wasn’t it?” It’s like the Sunshine Boys doing folk rock memories while I’m in the room. Because they needed a kid to talk to tell the stories and it’ll never top it.

Buzz Knight:

That’s outstanding. Wow. And how special was it for you working at WNEW-FM? I know for me it was one of the most special parts of a career that I’m very grateful for. I mean, I grew up in Stanford, Connecticut and you grew up in Brooklyn and obviously we knew the station. The station was a powerhouse. I had my dual identity card then dasher, I was Buzz Knight five days a week and Bob Killer Kosack on Saturday and Sunday. But how special was it for you to be at that amazing station?

Ken Dashow:

That was the moment. I mean, my break into New York, I went from country in New Jersey getting a 1.75 an hour to doing rock and roll out in Eastern Long Island in Riverhead getting 3.80 an hour. God, how many people double their salary between their first and second jobs to the summer of ’82 was the WAPP came in a new rock station that was commercial free for the summer. And I sent tapes to everybody who even knew was a rumor of them running it. And it’s another whole story about how you get into radio. But our morning guy was going to be offered weekends and turned it down because he’s a morning man. He turned down weekends in New York City for mornings out in Oshkosh, out in the Riverhead. And I knew it and I called and said, “I’m here weekends, whatever.”

And it’s a new station. So by the, I’m doing weekends but before he even started, the nighttime guy couldn’t sell his house and his wife didn’t want to move. And I wound up doing nights and it was a pretty boring basic station that didn’t have any personality musically. It didn’t have any effect. It was just commercial for playing generic rock. And I just kept pounding on the door at NEW and I don’t know what your interview was like at NEW, but Richard Neer was the one who brought me in and everybody thought, “You’re crazy. You’re giving up five nights, a five days a week on the brand new shiny rock station for weekends and fill-ins at NEW.” Like, “Hell yeah, of course, because it’s NEW.”

And it’s the most honest answer of you. They said, “You got to meet Scott.” And I go in to meet Scott Muni. Coffee, cigarettes got the paper. So what’s your story, fats? I said “Born and raised in Brooklyn. And my story’s very simple. If you played it and talked about it, I know it. If you didn’t play it, I don’t know it anyway.” “What are your sports teams?” And that was the end of the interview and I was done and I meant it. If there was played on that radio station, it’s in me. You didn’t play it. Don’t know what it is. It was a lifestyle. It wasn’t just casual, it was a lifestyle for me. How did you get there?

Buzz Knight:

I knew Charlie Kendall from some industry events. I remember I had known him when he was in Philadelphia at MMR and then when he moved to NEW I had kind of stayed in touch with him and I remember asking him at some maybe R and R convention or something about working there and he’s like, “Well I only have weekends.” And I said, “I’m in.” And he said, “Really?” And I said, “Yeah.” So he goes, “All right.” And that was literally it. I remember saying, “Well what name do I use?” And I said, because it’s using this name Buzz Knight while I’m up in Connecticut. He said, “Well how about using your real name since it’s okay with your mother?” And so I was like, “Okay.” And that was it. And nope, no practice show or anything like that.

Ken Dashow:

Well you’ve been on five days a week. I mean, how much warm? As long as you get the call letters, right, you’re in.

Buzz Knight:

Well that’s funny. I got my names right for the first year. I didn’t screw up at all. I got-

Ken Dashow:

Did you have your coffee cup like Johnny Fever with your name on it?

Buzz Knight:

I just had to constantly remind myself. But a year in, I remember we had those liner cards that we used to read promoting something and there was the whole Weekend Warriors and there was a note that had our names promoting the Weekend Warriors and it was initialized there. So I’m staring at it, reading and of course I see BK. Well BK is Buzz Knight, BK is Bob Kosack. So a year in, I think it was doing Saturday night at that time. And Buzz Knight name comes out of my mouth while I’m reading the card. I just ignored it. I figured. It’s New York City, it’s Saturday night, everyone’s got a Buzz. It’s Buzz Knight. And I ignored my faux pop, but I was mortified. But it took a year for me to screw that up.

Ken Dashow:

Very good. Excellent, excellent, excellent. Love that.

Buzz Knight:

Yeah, but it was an amazing place for sure. I was just looking through some old memorabilia from that time and remember the concert calendars that-

Ken Dashow:

Oh sure.

Buzz Knight:

That were done and how beautiful they were?

Ken Dashow:

Really be. I had showed some of the calendars that we did to our promotions team. They’re like, “This is just magical.” And I’m like, “Yeah, it’s when a company owned a radio station or two radio stations, you could do your own promotions, you could build your own idea and not an identity.” I mean corporate radios like corporate anything. There’s a giant chain of command of what gets money, what doesn’t. And you get by with what you have as opposed to, “I bought this radio station and I want to promote it. What’s a creative not too expensive way to get it out there?” I mean it’s not just radio, it’s in every facet of life. That’s something that’s missing of places. This drugstore putting a unique spin on how they do things versus that drugstore when you are a CVS or something, that store manager can only do so many balloons to promote something.

Buzz Knight:

Yeah, it was a time that certainly there was an opportunity for that station to stand out by doing unique things, unique events and unique promotions. And the calendar, remember the Christmas concert at the Garden? What a unbelievable experience that was being on stage with Yoko and Sean. I mean, come on.

Ken Dashow:

Remarkable, remarkable memories and circling back to the Village, it was like that and that there were certain types of acts that played certain venues. The Village gate was mostly jazz. I saw every great jazz artists from Herbie Hancock to God, Dave Brubeck played there, Miles, they would… Amazing. You hear these legends of this music playing literally a block away from me. Bottom Line was rock and folk and occasionally rock jazz or David Bromberg, always playing there. Dave Edmonds was a staple. Annie Haslem from Renaissance and the Ramones, even though the Ramones were more punk CBGBs, but it would go in that direction. And then for clubs and for what’s considered alt rock today, that was Kenny’s Castaways where The Smithereens started and The Bitter End where Steve Forbert and Suzanne Vega and those guys started. Every kind of club had its certain sort of identity.

And everybody who tells me when not just reading about San Francisco, but people work with the Grateful Dead in that world about, they explained to me, I got a tour once of San Francisco, kind of like what we’re talking about Greenwich Village report. It was like then as they said, the Jefferson Airplane were always playing the pizza place. And the storytellers, the folk rockers and poets, Leonard Comb and the hippie bus in Ginsburg were at the Inkwell. If you wanted coffee, he goes, dad, the warlocks at the time were at the Hall Union Hall. So if you went to the slice of pizza, you were going to hear psychedelic, Grateful Dead. If you wanted coffee and a muffin, you were going to hear poetry if it was all here in hate Ashbury. So you had to be influenced by it all.

And that’s what Greenwich Village had. It’s a small village of network of clubs, Café Wha?, Cornelius Street Cafe that doesn’t get as much cache. Donovan has become a friend through the years and he said, “Let’s go have lunch at Cornelius Street.” And we had lunch and he gave me his walking tour of the Village. He just felt like going down memory lane with somebody. And he explained what this was important that he couldn’t get into Café Wha?, that it would be like an 11, a midnight or 1:00 AM slot. But as Cornelius Street Café was trying to get in the game, they gave him an eight o’clock slot. So he forego the big names he played earlier show and worked that way to get to there. And he’s explaining the mechanics of who played where. And as he’s looking by buildings, he’s given me a history of sixties folk rock, English, and American of who is where. I’m like, totally get it.

Buzz Knight:

I love it. Think I could see it. Wow. I think one of the really cool things about you being at Q104.3 for so long is, that we worked as part of this air staff with some real iconic figures. And you have your whole air staff at Q that kind of has iconic figures. Jim Kerr and Shelly Sunstein. Carol Miller, our old friend from NEW, what is life like at Q104 for you?

Ken Dashow:

It has been truly an absolute blessing. Not a drop of boniness or whatever. It has been the dream job of the lifetime for 23 years. And I hold onto it as tightly as I can and protect this house for all. Because it was 1999 and NEW said, “Classic rock is dead. There’s not a dime left in there. It’s all Opie and Anthony and strippers and putting handicapped people on the microphone and making fun of their disability. And that’s what radio is now and that’s the future from Mel Harmon.” I said, “Can’t be.” And he waving a giant book of some consultant’s thing of telling you what you want to hear and putting a lot of pages in it. I said, “You don’t think the Beatles have any cachet? You don’t think there’s money left in the Beatles?” He goes, “it’s 20 years ago, 30 years ago, it’s gone.”

I said, “Interesting. Because if the Beatles were a publicly traded company, I would take all of my money out of every mutual fund I have and put it in Beatles, Inc.” There was no Apple at the time and, “I’ll be fine.” And ’99, a beautiful guy who I’m sure you know and they rest in peace, who saved my life. His name was Steve Young from Seattle. Steve was integral to launching Pearl Jam and Nirvana at his station there. He built what became the grunge sound because he loved the writing as he saw the new Dylan in the writing of Eddie Better and Kurt Cobain and Stone Temple and all of those guys and Chris Cornell. And he helped build it. And he came here and he called me and said, “I have the last seat on the last lifeboat off the Titanic and it has your name on it.”

And I’m sure every once in a while, like you running into Charlie Kendall, there’s a moment where that magic thing happens and you go running. And he just kind of cherry picked the DJs he liked. There was Jim Kerr and Carol, even though Carol was with us at NEW, her glory days was at PLJ. And he took me and Scott from NEW and from K Rock, the other rock station in town, he took Maria Milito and Mark Coppola and put us together and we played the music. And Buzz, you’ve been a PD for so much of your life. And whenever I would go in and ask him about structure of what he wants in the breaks, where do you want the promos where, how do you want horizontal promos for? And he would just go, “You know all that crap.”

“Yeah, I do. Okay, well I’ll just consistency, stay the course, build the music. It was really a tight playlist.” I said, “You want to open it up a little?” He said, “We will right now we got to establish who’s on the air and what we do. Because this place has been hazy. We have to get it into focus.” And he built it and then got bored and left and went back. As he said, “I love building a home for my friends, but I’ve got a house overlooking Puget Sound and I want to go back.” Like, okay. And Bob Buckman came and it was, he wanted to bring in his BAB people himself and Jerry Martier and we worked it out and Jerry would do his Friday road show because that was his big thing. And he said to me, “Do a weekend show.”

“Oh yeah, Sunday, how about I’ll do a morning show, I don’t want to do afternoons.” “This Sunday morning?” “Yeah.” And it was I don’t remember 2002 or something. It was an anniversary of The Beatles. I said, “Beatles anniversary of Coming to America said, why don’t you play Beatles music?” I said, “I’ll play a couple of songs.” He goes, “Play the whole play two hours.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. Play it, what’s going to happen, it’s Sunday morning.”

And on Monday I came in and he said, “Did you play two hours of Beatles music?” I said, “Yeah, no.” And I’m defensive like, “You told me to. He goes, “Yeah, we’ve never gotten such a response to anything in all my years in radio. You got to see the emails, the phone calls are coming in and all they’re asking is, are you going to do it again?” I said, “Yeah, next anniversary. I’ll do it again.” He said, “How about this coming Sunday?” “And I’m quick, Bob I’m quick. But you mean play Beatles again the next week? Two hours of Beatles?” “Yeah.” “All right. If you think so.”

I just played two hours of Beatles music and told stories about it, what I love, and, “Hey, you want to hear something special?” And the phones exploded. Exploded. Like I was giving away Who tickets. And I came in next Monday. He said, “You played Beatles again.” “Yeah.” He goes, “Just keep playing Beatles Sunday mornings. We’ll be fine.” And that’s 22 years now.

Buzz Knight:

Yeah. Yes.

Ken Dashow:

Oh, it’s the one thing about, I hope you and I know this about radio or anything else. If it’s not a great idea, if the audience doesn’t resonate with the idea, you can promote it from here till the end of the world. Nobody’s going to listen or watch it. If an audience loves something, they love it. Don’t stop it.

Buzz Knight:

Exactly. Dasher, why is music so vital to our soul?

Ken Dashow:

I think the perfect answer is what happened during the pandemic of people, we were frenetic. We’ve been at each other’s throats so much, but without live concerts, without us congregating, not for religious experience, but for a joyous music experience. I think it goes back to caveman days. We congregate together around the fire and there were storytellers and that was your television, that was your entertainment. And it always goes back to we want to be together, we’re homogenous people. But when you’re at a Billy Joel last night, Madison Square Garden for John Lennon’s birthday, they played Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds and the roof came off the place. Because you don’t ask the person next to you, “Who did you vote for?” Or “Are you an anti-vaxxer?” Or…

No, it’s about music. It’s the thing I’ve always said, music has been my best friend my whole life. It’s the most consistent friend I’ve ever had. It’s always there. It always lifts me up. It always can reflect my mood, happy, sad. The emotion of that, a book requires you to sit and look at it. I love reading, a TV program means you can look at it, music, you can listen while I’m walking my dog, I’m listening to it. And when I’m playing it, the difference between streaming and what we do is you have a friend. And for us, at least in New York, and I think nationwide, maybe a worldwide radio listening during Covid, Shot Through the Roof. Because Spotify never says to you, “How you doing? Do you have anybody in your family who’s sick? I know we all do and here’s hoping it gets better. And here’s Journey, Don’t Stop Believing. And the song you’ve heard 10,000 times takes on a different context.

And that’s what human beings on radio, whether you’re listening over the airwaves or screaming or however you get it. When I get an email from Crete saying, listening to Breakfast to the Beatles here on the iHeartRadio app, I go, “Yeah, it’s not ego of man, I’m special.” It’s ego of the music. Look what this music means that somebody on vacation or halfway around the world goes, “I need to listen to that. I mean not I want to, I need to listen to it.” That’s what, it’s such a deep emotional connection, to see people sob. when somebody plays music. They feel the rush of energy when somebody plays something new, lifts you up. It’s just magic.

Buzz Knight:

Love you buddy. I appreciate the time.

Ken Dashow:

Oh-

Buzz Knight:

Thanks.

Ken Dashow:

My pleasure. I got one last quick Village, Greenwich Village story of my ear of late ’70s. And it goes back, I was told 10 years, like the early ’70s, this old Italian restaurant on sixth Avenue and West 4th Street, right where the basketball courts are, the famous intersection where the West 4th Street subway is, and it’s called Emilios. And when I was doing standup at the Bitter End and there were folk musicians here and there and as well, Kenny’s Castaways, we all went to Emilios and the Billy Braggs and Suzanne Vegas would sit at their table discussing world politics and all the comedians would be at this table trying to work on each other’s acts. It was all helpful. “Hey, you know that piece you do about the cars?” “Yeah.” “I was thinking, what if you said, and what if you said while you’re driving, what if? But of course driving in Brooklyn is different and you could tie in Brooklyn.” And we would help each other hone each other’s acts.

And I noticed that the singers would never help each other with their songs at the table. They’re always talking about world politics and this and that and angry. And we were all just focused on making your show better. And it was just two different worlds. But we always came together. We’d see each other and say hi, but we never sat together that the comedians of this world. And I got to meet the late David Brenner and met George Carlin, just most brilliant. And I asked him, “That’s how it was with me.” He goes, “Oh, exactly the same hasn’t changed. Richie Havens and Joan Baez go off here. You know me, I’m here with my guys talking about this joke and that joke. And it’s always been like that.” He goes, “Probably goes back. The court jesters hung together and the loot player hung with his guys. And that’s how it always is.”

Buzz Knight:

Love it. That’s awesome. Thanks for your generosity, my friend. It’s great to be with you.

Ken Dashow:

Oh Buzz, my pleasure. Great reconnecting with you. Anytime. Let’s get together. Let’s go down to the Village and get something to eat one day.

Buzz Knight:

I’m in. Thanks brother.

Speaker 1:

Taking a walk with Buzz Night is available on Spotify, Apple Podcast or wherever you get your podcasts.

Buzz Knight is an established media executive with a long history of content creation and multi-platform distribution.

After a successful career as a Radio Executive, he formed Buzz Knight Media which focuses on strategic guidance and the development of new original content.