Get ready to surf the web, because the WiFi waters are getting crazy! Welcome to “Downward Trending”, the podcast and column where we break down the vast subcultures of the internet. Whether it’s influencers, edgelord shitposters or prank-stars and social experimenters, we’re here to analyze, cover, critique and riff on them.
Andrew Callaghan is from a different Seattle than the one we know today. Growing up an only-child in the pre-gentrified Seattle of the 90s and 2000s, Andrew was largely unsupervised. He spent his adolescence wandering around the city sometimes for days at a time— embarking on his own adventures with friends as well as strangers. The experiences and interactions made with the diverse population of locals would inspire him to seek out and explore the lives of the underrepresented— both the beautiful and ugly sides.
Andrew attended Loyola University in Louisiana, where he studied journalism— writing for his school’s paper and interning at local papers and magazines. At this time he became the co-creator and host of Quarter Confessions, an Instagram web series in which he interviewed drunk people in Bourbon street and aired out their deepest, darkest secrets on camera. While he maintains pride in the series, he does express some sympathy and regret in terms of how it affected his subjects lives.
A little before this, however, he wrote a book. Titled All Gas, No Brakes: A Hitchhikers Diary, it chronicled his journey as he hitchhiked from St. Louis to Washington State, and features interviews with some of the eccentric personalities and interesting people he met along the way. Because he started writing a year after making the initial trip, he had to track down the people and ask them to re-tell their stories.
Joe Amendola, a freelance writer as well as the co-host of this podcast, said it best in his book review for the Brigade USA literary blog:
All Gas No Brakes is, in effect, a celebration of those on the margins of society: whether it be graffiti artists, recovering addicts engaged in dangerous professions, or upper-middle class black-sheep burdened by mental illness and too much familial wealth. When A.T traveled up the west coast of the United States, he too traversed the unseen inhabitants who exist in our culture’s billowing shadows. The book is a 60-page grab-bag of weirdness, generosity, and testaments to the invariable unpredictability of people in the era of Postmodernity. At a brief 61 pages, you could probably blow through it in two hours. And you’ll probably read it again.
After the book proved successful, and following his eventual departure from Quarter Confessions, he got the idea to essentially combine the two projects into one. Thus, All Gas No Brakes was re-birthed as a man on the street series, wherein he explores the most interesting and bizarre aspects of our culture. Take for example, his most recent video in which he attends the California COVID-19 lockdown protests, or his coverage of the 2019 AVN expo— the largest Adult entertainment convention in the country. The way he edits the footage is noticeable to anyone who’s grown up with Vic Berger, H3H3 or Tim & Eric. Its stylized nature emphasizes and adds to a sense of insanity and delirium that seems to continuously be growing. When they’re at their best, these videos are able to give a first person view of America’s unmasked face. “It’s taking this peak behind the curtain of madness into these weird communities and odd beliefs that you just never thought would possibly exist,” says YouTuber Moist Critikal in a recent video. “It’s like [Andrew] is Willy Wonka and he’s inviting us into his chocolate factory to see all the crazy shit inside. […] What All Gas No Brakes does is the best form of journalism. It’s not actual journalism— like writing shit down— it’s better. It’s showing you these things; letting you see these things first hand as he was on the front line, as opposed to someone who was scouring twitter and then wrote an article about this.”
Conceptually All Gas No Brakes draws comparisons to Sacha Baron Cohen’s Showtime series Who Is America? However, the difference here is that there’s no character, and the people at the forefront aren’t the same easy targets as idiot politicians. Andrew isn’t planking or baiting his subjects, he’s just presenting them as is, with a certain aesthetic flare added for flavor. Also, whereas Cohen’s series was a direct critique and satire, All Gas No Brakes doesn’t necessarily pass too much direct judgement on the people and events featured. Rather, it pairs Andrews reactions and personality with subtle production details to signal that ‘… yeah… we’re seeing this shit too.’
Back in July, 2019, myself and Joe Amendola sat down with Andrew while he was in New York. He was just about to embark on the road to film the series full time. We went deep into his origins, how he got into hitchhiking, how hipsters and tech bro’s have changed Seattle for the worse, and more!
This episode was RECORDED LIVE FROM KPISS.FM !!! Shout out to the golden stream!
From The Alley, Not The Valley: The Story of KPISS.FM, The People’s Internet Radio Station
By: Conor Rooney & LJ Marrone
You wouldn’t have had any idea that it existed if you didn’t know where to look. Formerly packed away haphazardly under the J/M/Z in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn sat a small alleyway — locally referred to as “Punk Alley.” Teeming with life, its sides were lined with wholly independent shops and custom artwork. One peek down its long, narrow corridor and you were greeted with vibrant colors, a half-assembled mannequin, trinkets for sale in several scattered baskets and music emanating from at least one (probably several) storefronts. The businesses were housed in shipping containers, and they had all been repurposed into shops with makeshift doors and windows. Though the stores were transient, at one point there was a used book store (where you might be hard-pressed to find anything over a few bucks), a used record shop (specializing in the sale and collection of rare surf rock), a cassette-based experimental noise record label and, of course, KPISS: the resident pirate radio station.
KPISS was andis as much a community effort as it is an independent one. It’s community-driven (most of the shows consist of local DJs, hosts and artists) and independent in that it’s fully self-sustaining (every official member of KPISS must pay a small membership fee). While traditionally, “pirate radio” might have referred to the wave of terrestrial FM radio stations that were broadcasting without license, the term has evolved into a catchall of sorts. Within the context of this article – we’re using the term as a phrase to describe any wholly independent radio station (whether internet or antenna) that serves a purpose and a community. Even though it’s not hosted on a traditional FM radio station, it lives online at kpiss.fm, and across most internet radio streaming services.
Photo: Dalvin Aboagye
Despite the emergence of technologies and services that one might assume would detract from traditional radio’s audience, it remains popular within the U.S. What sets internet radio apart is its non-reliance on federal regulations and a low overhead. KPISS operates within these parameters, and Sheri Barclay is the ringmaster. KPISS features a variety of content, from music to talk shows to whatever they want. Local DJ Jonny Katz described his passion for it best: “I also respected the feel of KPISS… something you could join while doing it by yourself. If you have access to the space then you really have an unlimited amount of ideas to try out.”
I walked down Broadway on an early morning in May, 2018. The sun hasn’t yet made the day unbearable. I was on my way to meet Sheri; we agreed to meet at the studio. I was a block or two away when the streets started coming to life. It was one of the first nice days of the year.
Art: Lauren Martin / @laurenmartin_studio
The studio’s exterior was mostly plexiglass. The panel above the studio window was painted to resemble a radio’s dial, complete with knobs for AM, FM, volume and balance. Inside, leg room was sparse. The walls were lined with various pictures and other assorted objects such as a Lisa Frank-esque picture of a unicorn, an old Pepsi advertisement hanging above the DJ, an unopened fun-pack of colorful toothbrushes and, of course, a framed picture of our patron saint Tom Jones.
“Everything you see is custom built,” Sheri said with a sense of pride. “There was no floor, just dirt. We built all of this pieces at a time.”
“So where do you want to do this?” she asked me as she finished troubleshooting a recording session. She steps through her makeshift door and into the alley. She had long brown hair and was wearing a brown jacket over a shirt from one of her favorite local strip clubs.
I’m not particular. “Anywhere, honestly,” I responded.
“Okay, well, grab your stuff. I have an actual office down the street. It’s in a pizzeria.”
She had a quid pro quo with Milly’s Pizzeria down the block.
Sheri is an interesting character. At 37, she currently lives in Brooklyn doing freelance audio work for podcasts, radio stations, media companies and brands. As a kid in Edmonton, Alberta, Sheri was exposed to the world of alternative artistic subculture. “I grew up in Canada, and I was introduced to the DIY scene at about 15 years old,” she said. “DIY in Canada is really serious, because Canada doesn’t have a culture, you really have to make your own everything.”
As we sat there at Molly’s, eating pizza and shooting the shit, I asked her about a moment there that really stuck with her.
Photo: Village Voice
“Do you know Nardwuar?” she asked. “He created this whole thing from scratch and he started out on college radio. I saw him at an all-ages show at a community center when I was 15. It was organized, run and attended by 15 to 18-year-olds, and all promoted with flyers.”
Canadian national treasure Nardwuar is perhaps best known for his off-the-wall and goofy interviews with artists. It’s entertaining, sometimes absurd, but always unique. It’s that very same blend of goofiness and eccentricity that Sheri infused into KPISS, making it so absurdly enjoyable in the first place.
From there, Sheri eventually developed an interest in audio mechanics. She volunteered at various radio stations around the area, learning the basics and then some.
In 2003, Sheri moved to Brooklyn, a crown jewel of arts and culture. “I caught the tail end of that 90’s Williamsburg bohemianism,” she quipped. Once here, she began making her way through a variety of freelance gigs, but her interests lay in getting in with East Village radio, or even better, New Jersey’s own WFMU.
Turns out that was easier said than done.
Sheri began really thinking about the systematic structure — and largely male-inhabited — world of pro-radio. The limitations, technique and approach seemed outdated and almost pretentious. She wanted to create a space for the people who thought outside the box—a place where creativity could thrive. “I wanted a place where you still had to have an idea, y’know?” she told me. “I’m not a snob about that stuff, and I hated that feeling of going through a hazing process and having to prove to someone how cool I was.”
KPISS’ very name is, in many respects, the embodiment of what it is. “When we started, so many people thought I wouldn’t get away with calling it KPISS,” she said. “But I had to do something to shake it up and get people’s attention. I’m from Canada, so the phrase ‘take the piss out out of something’ really resonated with me. You’re kind of making fun of something and inverting it at the same time.”
Photo: Live from Barrage (RadioNOPE)
And that's one of the keys to KPISS’ appeal: it’s self-aware. This is a station that know it’s weird, bizarre, unorthodox, and both embraces and subverts it at the same time. Existing in self-aware, let-me-be-serious-for-a-second New York City culture, this unpretentiousness approach was and still is refreshing. “Canadians can get away with that more than anything,” Barclay said. “We have that ingrained capability to be transparent and goofy in a way that maybe Americans can’t. That helps me a lot with what I’m doing.”
KPISS exists during a time where terrestrial radio isn’t the only major player in the media game. We’re living in a new media landscape where we have seemingly endless mediums and opportunities to discover new music or to listen to our favorite shows. The rise in popularity of streaming services and the emergence of the entire podcasting ecosystem provide consumers with a whole new world of choice. Still, traditional radio remains strong. According to Nielsen (a company that monitors entertainment data within the United States) 90 percent of American consumers listen to terrestrial radio on a weekly basis (this number was 96 percent in 2001). Still, radio is now forced for compete for the same audience within an increasingly segmented consumer population. Its voice is one of many in a crowded field.
Photo: Village Voice
For a long time, though, radio’s influence was pretty unwavering. One DJ’s opinion on a record or artist could send a record soaring to No. 1, influence the flavor music of the day and even make or break a career. But this makes sense. The music industry model was about as linear as the series arc for “Lost.” The artist recorded the music, the music was pressed onto wax and those records were sent to either record shops around the country or to radio. Touring existed, but whether or not your music caught the ear of an influential DJ could determine the cities you visited, the crowds you drew — or even if you toured at all. According to the same Nielsen report, 49 percent of Americans still use radio to discover new music, but the market is fractured. This leaves 51 percent of the audience utilizing other means to discover new music (including independent radio).
In a post-internet world, independent radio has been pushed underground and, in some cases, online. Internet radio has been around for a hot minute, and its low overhead means that anyone — literally anyone — can start their own internet radio station. Free from restrictive federal regulations, it’s a free-for-all. All you need is a microphone, a computer and access to a decent internet connection. For Sheri, keeping independent radio alive meant operating out of a storage unit no bigger than a midsize sedan.
“With corporate radio, I think they’ll vanish as we know them in five years, or at least be sold off to Latino communities,” she said. “They listen to the radio more than anyone and because of that, there’s more ad revenue.”
“Here’s the thing… we’re all competing for the same niche audience. Sometimes it gets a little confusing,” Sheri said as she finished her slice of pizza. She’s referring here to the ecosystem of local internet radio stations such as Radio Free Brooklyn and The Lot Radio. In some cases, Sheri has seen some of her DJs bring their talent to other local internet stations. “Again, It’s competition… but we’re also in the same boat. We can help each other even though there’s that fierce competition for the same niche audience. It’s KPISS, but there’s no literal pissing contest.”
Photo: Dalvin Aboagye
Sheri insists on keeping KPISS as connected and true to the community as possible. “One show is a whole bunch of Dominican guys talking shit with each other, and another is feminist comedians, another show is about surfing, another show is about two black chicks who are goth and their experience being goth,” said Sheri, gleefully. This commitment to quality diversity is what sets KPISS apart from the slew of other internet stations. It can be a tricky balance to come into a neighborhood — particularly anywhere in NYC — as an outsider and not disrupt things. These days, with the burden of gentrification on the shoulders of native locals, business owners need to put great effort into finding ways to both benefit themselves and the community they’ve settled upon. Deeply embedding that community within the fabric of KPISS was one of Sheri’s primary goals.
Beyond this, the natural, genuine feel that these shows, and the station at large, have great empathy and humanity to them. But even Barclay admits that it can be hard to maintain this quality. “It’s really not enough to just come on with your cool Spotify playlist of X-ray Spex and Kendrick Lamar and just talk about your job. I’m not trying to say that people don’t do that on college radio, because it happens — and it sucks. That’s the one thing that a lot of people don’t want to admit… sometimes freeform radio sucks. And it’s kind of cheap therapy for whoever does it.”
As the interview wrapped up, we walked outside back towards the alley. It was later in the day now, and the sun has become hidden by a wall of clouds. Truthfully, on this street, the light is always obstructed by the overhead tracks. It just seemed darker. We said our goodbyes.
As I walked away with the photographers, I replayed the experience in my head. As a whole, this had proven to be a deep dive into a small, yet potent pocket of the East Coast DIY scene, one that’s seen the fabric of its community tried over the past several years as venues like Death by Audio, Shea Stadium and Aviv shutter. Even Palisades — a former staple in the DIY community — shuttered in the summer of 2016 during an after-hours party. Located directly across from Punk Alley, it recently reopened as an upscale Italian restaurant. Yet KPISS holds on, and doesn’t inhabit that faux bo-ho world that we see in shitty Sundance films or Off-Broadway plays. Rather, it’s something far more powerful. It’s a world where ideas matter over capital. It’s a world in which diversity is treated as a strength, not a chore.
Corporate radio will most likely always have a place in society, but at the same time, unless it updates its systematic operations, independent media will take its place as king. Is that a good thing? A bad thing? Perhaps neither, and is it just a part of the media circle of life? Who’s to say?
Since the interview, a lot has changed for the station. Punk Alley was eventually shut down, and Sheri moved KPISS to an RV parked on a lot in Bushwick. She also opened up the studio space to podcasters, under the name “Podcast RV”. However, with the COVID-19 pandemic continuing at the time of this writing, the DJ’s have begun working remotely, and the future of the current on-site studio set up remains to be seen.
KPISS isn’t re-inventing the wheel, nor does it claim to be. However, there is this great originality and an admirable spirit that shines through its speakers as you listen. KPISS is an updated version of a pirate radio station, and as a result, it can afford freedoms that traditional FM stations cannot. There’s a freedom to create new things, to experiment with different styles, and, above all else, just be plain fucking weird.
After all, this is KPISS, but there isn’t a literal pissing contest.
Photo: Joe Amendola
KPISS logo image courtesy of Dalvin Aboagye. This piece was originally published in The Stony Brook Press (March, 2018). It has been slightly updated and altered.
