Y100
Y100 was the radio station of the people. Around 1997, media companies became monopolized and many of the local radio stations were bought out. After the demise of WDRE 103.9, the only remaining alternative rock station was Y100, which everybody I knew lived and died by back then. In the mornings, they had Preston and Steve, a pair of lovable Philly mooks who gave the Delaware Valley bits of strange news, held some impressive celebrity interviews, and hyped the best new music. In the evenings was Cagematch, a battle-of-the-bands type radio program where new music was pitted against station stand-bys and fought for airtime. There were the Sonic Sessions, Y100’s own version of MTV Unplugged, where big name bands came in and played intimate acoustic sets for a small audience. Plus, there was its two semi-annual music festivals – The FEZtival and The FEASTtival. Y100 was the lifeblood for many of us. In 2001, the station was bought out by Radio One and then yanked from the airwaves in 2005. It was a sad day to see it go, but while it was around, yes – “Y100 rocked.”
Ah, Dave Matthews Band… stab me in the face. DMB (sometimes alternating with Phish, depending who you talked to) was the mascot of choice for the kids of Haddonfield. His upbeat, world music, jam sessions echoed out of every junior’s car and his concerts were the regular social events of the season. Possibly the most memorable one being his three-day stint at Veterans Stadium in Phildelphia in the spring of 2000. I hated Dave Matthews. Not for any credible reason, mind you. I just hated the man and his music because everybody else liked him and never shut-up about it. In the years since my high school graduation, I’ve given DMB his fair shot on my playlist and my only real thoughts are “Um, I like that one song he did.” It seemed that if you listened to punk or emo, Dave was immediately your natural enemy, like the Dallas Cowboys or teen sobriety. But these days, I’ll let Dave Matthews play through. Though I know that my inner seventeen year old is bitching about me in his marble notebook.
Dawg Pride
This isn’t our team emblem, but it was the closest I could find without copyright enfringement. The Haddonfield Bulldawgs (yes, we did actually spell it that way), claiming to be excellent in sports for close to 100 years.
Burn Kate
Monkey, Sean, Josh, and Jim (l to r)
There were many bands that came and went during my days in South Jersey, but the one always special to me is Burn Kate, named after the unanimous sentiment towards guitarist Sean Breslin’s sister. Burn Kate was my friends’ band. Their concerts weren’t just opportunities to see them play; it was a coming-together for all involved: groupies, friends, hangers-on. It’s necessary to admit that I had a fair amount of doubt of them breaking out, but luckily: they didn’t listen to guys like me. Their sound wasn’t anything new, but they did it well and they were good. They cut two albums, were part of the Philly punk scene for a time, and even played a gig at CBGBs in New York. Personally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention them. Big Rock Show, their indie debut, is still one of my favorites. Fingers crossed for a reunion during Christmas. We miss you Jimmy, Josh, Sean, and Monkey.
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