Come On, Come On, Turn the Radio On

Or, discovering my hometown's best-kept secret

Earlier this year, I purchased a 50-pack of cards and envelopes and told myself something will have gone very wrong if they’re not depleted by the holidays. I think the Boomers had it right: handwritten letters are the best way to faithfully convey feelings. When I want to tell someone I cherish them, I go straight to my pen.

My latest letter went not to a dear friend but to 83-year-old John Garabedian, torchbearer of the Memories Channel (WJIB), which has enriched my life more than I ever thought a radio station could. Boston listeners have heard some form of programming on AM 740¹ for nearly 80 years (most notably, the indie station WCAS broadcast an eclectic folk-heavy format in the 1970s), but the current incarnation of WJIB dates to 1991, when DJ and magazine publisher Bob Bittner purchased the station at a bankruptcy auction.

For 32 years, Bittner proceeded to run the joint all by himself, serving as playlist programmer, on-air personality, and operations manager. Drawing on his immense vinyl collection (much of which was listener-donated), he curated a singular blend of music noted for its exceptional variety — obscure 1930s jazz instrumentals alongside the easy listening of the ‘70s. He despised commercials, so he simply didn’t air them, leaning on the word-of-mouth cult following he developed to fund his operations. In lieu of traffic updates, a WJIB listener heard politically tinged PSAs from the ever-outspoken Bittner.²

When Bittner passed away suddenly two years ago, the station’s future was thrown into doubt. Enter Garabedian, nearing retirement after a 50-year career in Boston radio when he purchased WJIB last year. He’s carried on the station’s ethos, electing to take no salary, run no ads, and preserve its beguiling “soft and easy” sound.

I grew up a loyal top 40 listener, raised by parents who didn’t want to rock the boat by playing their childhood favorites around the house. My bias toward the contemporary was augmented by my indifference toward movies and TV shows (among the principal mediums for exposure to oldies). The rare pre-2000 tracks I knew were those commonly included on stadium pump-up playlists. If my ninth-grade self learned his future favorite station wouldn’t play any currently charting songs, he’d have been pretty bewildered.

Yet since I fortuitously landed on WJIB sometime last year — the station didn’t start FM broadcasting until 2017 — I’ve been spellbound by the selections. A typical hour of Memories Channel music casually traverses a plethora of genres and eras: acoustic ‘60s folk, clean Motown harmonies, dashes of yacht rock and sunshine pop, Bittner’s beloved big-band. Crucially, you’ll rarely hear the iconic but played-out megahits (sorry, “Eye of the Tiger”) inescapable on standard adult contemporary stations. The deep cuts are interspersed only with charming station IDs voiced by Garabedian and lengthy, unedited voicemails from octogenarians with healthy Boston accents who’ve called in a request — anyone asking for a song is encouraged to unspool the memories they associate with it.

Extended WJIB listening sessions feel like train rides where every stop is a surprise. Will the next song make me dance? Laugh? Cry? I’d like to imagine the wonder it evokes resembles what our grandparents felt whenever they made an exciting discovery — be it a favorite movie or an incredible deli. I suspect it was easier to be floored by something when you couldn’t hear about it online first. Today, we stroll into restaurants having already read reviews of their signature dishes; algorithms serve us TikToks and TV shows squarely in our comfort zones. For our information-saturated brains, WJIB produces an all-too-rare sensation: stumbling upon an unexpected delight.³

My hometown, Cambridge, Mass., has its fingerprints all over WJIB⁴. Its predecessor WCAS broadcast a live program from the legendary Club Passim; Bittner ran his one-man operation across the street from where I played Little League baseball. In an age where many of the biggest names coming out of Harvard and Kendall Squares justly reinforce our ivory-tower stereotype, the Memories Channel embodies Cambridge at its best: cultured yet unpretentious, welcoming yet unapologetically itself. Tune out the distractions — WJIB is the Cambridge I want you to know.

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No matter where you are, you can stream WJIB here! I’ll leave you today with a playlist that will undoubtedly expand: songs WJIB introduced me to (and a few thoughts on some of them.)

Minnie Riperton - “Lovin’ You”

I’m drawn to earnestness — in both music and people — and Riperton’s pillowy, acrobatic vocal is as earnest as it gets. Here’s some fun trivia: look up who played those comforting keys, and who that mysterious “Maya” at the end is.

“Moonlight in Vermont” (Frank Sinatra recording)

As a big believer in the importance of regional cultural identity, I have a soft spot for songs about places. The elegant string arrangement backing Sinatra lends it a timeless feel, apropos for a song about places we can all hope will look the same decades from now.

Cat Stevens - “Oh Very Young”

When I first heard this, the opening couplet jolted me to attention. Stevens’ gentle coo turns what could be a lament into a calming reflection. It’s quickly become a re-centering song for me, a shortcut to ensuring I’m always asking: “what will I leave the world in my short time?”

1. WJIB moved from 740 to 720 AM this March to increase its coverage.

2. Here’s a profile on Bittner, if you’re interested — sadly, the Internet Archive appears to have no record of the third page.

3. Radio in general seems to resonate as a medium for doing so; look no further than the popularity of Radio Garden.

4. Garabedian, too, is Cambridge born and raised.