In the early ’90s, the Jesus Lizard—vocalist David Yow, guitarist Duane Denison, David Wm. Sims and drummer Mac McNeilly—was untouchable. Not literally, of course—if you were at one of its hundreds of shows in that era, you could very easily touch ’em. And given the amount of time Yow spent slithering on top of the audience, you probably didn’t have a choice in the matter. Denison and McNeilly will be guest editing. Read our new MAGNET Classics feature on the band’s Liar album, one of the most important LPs of the ’90s.
Denison: A good thing, indeed. OK, now that I’ve asserted myself about new cars, here’s an offshoot: satellite radio! I didn’t think I’d really like it all that much, but, hey, we all have to grow up sooner or later. I got a new car about a year ago (I’m not gonna tell you what because I don’t want to advertise anything), and it was my first in 10 years. It came with a free trial period of satellite radio. I’ve always been a fan of terrestrial-based car radio and really didn’t see the need to change anything. There’s something inherently timeless about driving around with the radio playing. It’s the voice of the people. The thought of being forced to change my car listening habits was one I wasn’t in any hurry to embrace. But embrace I did, and there’s no turning back now. Hundreds of channels, consistently great sound quality. Reception that doesn’t fade out after 40 miles. Channels devoted to specific styles, eras or even individual artists. DJs who are excited about what they’re playing, and will tell you all about it. I can go from opera to outlaw all day long, and then cool out in the garage for a while. Or jump from the ’50s to the current era so my daughter can sing along on her way to school. I can still play CDs or hook up an iPhone, but I hardly ever do. I listen to the more esoteric stuff at home, in privacy and safety. The car is where populism reigns supreme, and satellite messages unite us! The space race of the ’60s has paid off: Let us now pledge allegiance, comrades!
