Homesick for NU 107

107.5 is no longer the home of NU rock. Unlike many loyal listeners, I cannot remember the first time I ever tuned in. For me, it wasn't particularly momentous, it was more like I began to listen and never stopped. I thought, hey, this is really good music, and that was that.

Back then, we would buy cassette tapes. Mix tapes were actual tapes, and more often than not the tracks would be painstakingly recorded from the radio. I remember sitting on the floor next to the speakers, finger poised above the red dot, waiting for the right song to play. Most days began to the soundtrack of Zach and Joey in the morning. Zach's burping drove my mom crazy, but she put up with it. Listening would be cut short for school, but would resume immediately upon getting home. For many of us in high school, listening to NU was a standard, an instant method to tell if you were musically compatible. Like most all girls schools, there were distinct barkadas - but there was a grey area of people who were on the same page when it came to music preferences, and we would all hang out sometimes, listening to smuggled radios in the classrooms during lunch break, with someone on the lookout for teachers. My most vivid memory of our final retreat is struggling to keep quiet after lights out, despite wanting to jump up and down because our favorite artists won the Rock Awards, which we were listening to, again on a smuggled radio. On Saturdays at school, working on the yearbook, we would send in our requests for Remote Control Weekend. In a way, NU was the soundtrack to our entire high school life. After high school, I began to find music elsewhere, but instead of drifting away from the station, circumstances led to it becoming more than just a number on the dial I would tune in to habitually. It was the summer of 2002, and my friends and I were at the NU Summer Shebang at The Fort. It was early, around four in the afternoon, but Faster Than Satan was onstage and a small mosh pit was forming. Not wanting to join the fray, we headed toward the back, where Zach Lucero was standing alone. I wandered off for a while, and when I returned, my friend had struck up a conversation with him and they were talking animatedly. I cannot remember how this happened, but when we walked away, Zach had agreed to teach me to play the drums. He said he was fifteen when he learned, and his teacher had taught him pro bono. Had I had any talent at all, I might have been his pay-it-forward project. But it wasn't meant to be.

The signature shot after the University Rock debut episode

After a few lessons at the old black and red studio, and once outside Big Sky Mind, it was clear to me that I was not a drummer, nor was I on the way to becoming one, and I was most definitely not going to become the next Zach Lucero. I suspect he knew this, as well, but he was incredibly nice and didn't tell me that. Sometimes I would arrive a bit early, and he would still be on board. I remember thinking I'd want to be there someday, just to see what it felt like. In college, I joined the UP Musicians' Organization. To be clear, I was not and am still not a musician, but I love music more than I love words, and I wanted to be with people who felt the same - who knew what it was like to fall in love with a line in a song, to feel like certain bands were their best friends. We were seventeen when the organization began, and there were just two of us who weren't playing in any band. Eventually, we became in charge of most of the production work when it came to events, which NU would always agree to let us plug on air. Several of our bands were guests on University Rock, and when we produced a demo CD and Francis Brew played it on In The Raw on December 24, we couldn't have asked for a better Christmas gift. Years later, I misunderstood an e-mail looking for University Rock Jocks. I had already graduated, and I didn't realize they wanted college kids, so I sent in an application. In the end, I made it to the first batch of University Rock, after George and Lia graduated, so to speak. Monday nights from nine to eleven were never as much fun as the weeks I spent there, and I met some of the most amazing people because of that program. I also got to present an award for what I didn't know was to be the second to the last Rock Awards. There was something magical about being in a booth and talking, knowing that people you can't see could be listening to you, in their cars, on their way home from work, or maybe on their way to work, while cooking, before falling asleep. The one person I knew was always listening was my dad, and he made sure to tell all his friends to listen. Once, we had a contest and he was the first caller. It was very embarrassing. But I digress.

The author's first time on board with Abi Portillo, Evee Simon and Riki Flores

NU by then, I have to admit, was no longer my default source of music. Which is not to say that I preferred other stations, but that I would usually listen to mp3 tracks, and resort to the radio when I got tired of them. This was actually very often, because my mp3 player had the impressive capacity of 512MB. At some point, I felt like the music was repetitive, and then I began to feel disappointed. But the shows were great, especially Pirate Satellite, which I would, on occasion, choose to stay home to listen to instead of going out on a Saturday night. But of course, you don't know what you've got until it's gone. I can't say that for sure I would have tuned in more often had I known we were about to lose it, but now, I get a sinking feeling when I think about the far end of the radio dial, knowing that the familiar voices aren't there anymore. Because it isn't just about the music they played - thanks to the internet it isn't difficult to find tracks on your own. It was the sense of the community, the romance of radio. It was hearing your favorite song played out of the blue, loving the DJ for playing it and getting goosebumps knowing that somewhere out there, someone was feeling the exact same way. It could be argued that the same thing could be said about other radio stations, but it isn't so. At least not for me. Although the first time I tuned in wasn't particularly momentous, I began listening and I never felt the need to listen to anything else after that. NU was radio. Still, Cris Hermosisima was right when he said it was a good run. Indeed, 23 years is not bad. And, cheesy as it may sound, I wouldn't be the way I am had it not been for NU. It taught me what I could (be a halfway decent radio host) and could not (be a drummer) do, and introduced me to many of my favorite local bands whose music I would most definitely not be me without. And I'm not the only one getting emotional about missing NU. It's a bit funny how a rock and roll station is eliciting this much cheesiness from people, but we can't help it. It was a constant, something we grew up with and perhaps for some, outgrew. I could go on and on, I have so memories to share about NU. Maybe in that way, in remembering, it won't end.