Beyond Raffi: Kids' Music Doesn't Have to Suck

Written by Matt Schrunk
Edited by Kelley Dodd

I started to notice how frequently I was reaching for the volume knob in the family car, strategically muting the song that was playing in order to censor the occasional curse word that would pop up. It’s not as though I was listening to Cannibal Corpse with my kids in the car, mind you, but the music I played wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. My wife and I shared a lot of guilty looks. We knew something had to change.

We decided it was time to go through our CD collection and weed out the bands and albums that were inappropriate for our kids to hear. Our daughters were old enough to start to understand and (God forbid) repeat whatever they might hear on the stereo. We decided that the safest thing would be to remove the most objectionable material from our music library. I grudgingly said goodbye to a good many of the metal albums that had carried me through my own version of teenage angst, and I was convinced that my listening future would consist of, mainly, The Wiggles and Gwendolyn and the Good Time Gang. Why wasn’t there more cool music out there that I could listen to with my kids?

I’m twenty-eight now, but at twenty-three I already had two kids in the house. Maybe most parents out there have a little more time to separate themselves from the music of their younger, wilder days and to settle into a more grown-up, less obnoxious musical palate. Not so for me—I was just two years out of high school when my first kid was born and still had a fairly impressive collection of discs sporting the “Parental Advisory” sticker on the front cover. Bands like Korn, Pantera, Tool, and (I’m ashamed to say) Limp Bizkit took up a large part of my CD racks—not exactly the type of music to use as a lullaby for your little ones.

Of course, every parent with a passion for music wants to share their tastes with their kids. But many of the songs I was playing for my daughters contained lyrics that I hadn’t even realized were inappropriate until I listened to them through the parental filter. We tried listening to some of the music made just for kids, but most of it was simply too annoying to tolerate. So what happens when you run out of ideas for fun, family-friendly music? Portland deejays Belinda Miller and Hova Najarian have just the thing.

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Between 8:00 and 9:00 on Saturday mornings, Portland radio station 94.7 KNRK (www.947.fm) airs Miller and Najarian’s long-running show, Greasy Kid Stuff, playing music that’s fun, upbeat, very kid-friendly, and just plain cool. We’re not talking about Alvin and the Chipmunks—much of the music on the show is not specifically made for kids. But what you hear during their program is certainly a welcome respite from the often bland world of kids’ music.

In one hour, you can hear music from mainstream artists, like the B-52’s, Yo La Tengo, The Replacements, Beck, and They Might Be Giants, and more kid-centric bands, such as Lunch Money, Captain Bogg & Salty, and the Red Hot Chili Dogs. Greasy Kid Stuff first aired in the New York area in 1995 on freeform radio station WFMU. At the time of the show’s creation, Miller and Najarian (who are happily married) didn’t have kids, but they were inspired to bring better music to the children of the next generation.

I joined Miller and Najarian to sit in on a taping of the show, which is prerecorded on the second floor of their Southeast Portland house and sent in to the KNRK studio. I asked them about how it all began. Sitting behind a computer facing the couple’s modest recording equipment, Najarian said, “We were huge fans of WFMU, and started volunteering there. We had never deejayed before, and we were never even aspiring to deejay there; we just loved the station. We really didn’t think that we had anything to add—everyone was super knowledgeable and had huge record collections. Then we got the idea for a kids’ show. We pitched it to them, and they liked the idea.”

Najarian noted that at the time, many of the people who grew up with punk rock were becoming parents—their station manager at WFMU had just become a father when they pitched their show—and there just wasn’t a lot of good kids’ music out there. The mission of Greasy Kid Stuff, according to Miller, was essentially to “mine the history of music for kid-appropriate stuff, but not stuff that was necessarily made for kids.”

The first ten years of Greasy Kid Stuff were produced and aired in New York, but in 2004 Miller and Najarian decided to move back to the west coast, settling in Miller’s hometown of Portland, Oregon. They continued broadcasting the show to New York, running a live feed from their home to WFMU’s New Jersey studio through the phone line. Finally, in 2006 they decided to make the broadcast local, convincing program director Mark Hamilton to give them a slot on KNRK. They continued their remote broadcast to the New York area for a year, coinciding with the Portland show, until parting ways with WFMU in 2007.

Over the years Greasy Kid Stuff has received a good deal of attention from national media as a pioneer in the genre of kids’ music. Neal Pollack, author of Alternadad: The True Story of One Family’s Struggle to Raise a Cool Kid in America, has called it “the best kid’s radio program of all time.” In a 2007 blog on his Alternadad website, Pollack talked about visiting a Portland dance party for kids called Baby Loves Disco (hosted by Miller and Najarian). After taking in the scene and watching parents dance with their toddlers to the sound of classic disco music, he attempted to describe the current state of parenting and culture, saying, “I do know that the generic kid-centric culture of Barney, Mommy & Me, and Gymboree, while still part of the landscape, is fading and is being replaced by something that feels a little more authentic, a little more, well, fun.” The movement is growing. Greasy Kid Stuff is often the number one radio program in Portland during its time slot, and Baby Loves Disco parties, which started in Philadelphia, have spread to over twenty major cities around the country. But like any shift in the culture scales, this one started small.

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Back in 1995, Miller and Najarian were producing what may have been the only kids' radio show in the country. A few others have sprung up since then, including Spare the Rock, Spoil the Child produced in Massachusetts by Bill Childs and his daughter, Ella. Childs approached Miller and Najarian in 2005 looking for advice on starting an indie rock show for kids. Miller told him, “I don’t know! We aren’t experts.” Even with other kids’ shows being started around the country, Miller and Najarian don’t see the trend as a threat. “It’s cool that people are doing it. We get jealous sometimes that people get attention, and that people get paid,” Najarian said, laughing, “but we’re still doing what we like to do.”

In the past few years, Miller and Najarian have relaxed their position of avoiding music that’s made for kids because “it’s just a lot better.” They cite recent kids’ releases by mainstream artists—Barenaked Ladies, Lisa Loeb, and Chris Ballew (of the Presidents of the United States of America) a.k.a. Caspar Babypants—as evidence that kids’ music is getting more popular and much more readily available, making it easier to find material to play on the air. “We started with a one-hour show,” said Miller, “and we were like, ‘Oh my god, how are we going to fill it?’” But over time, Miller and Najarian discovered more and more songs to use for the show, getting suggestions from their listeners and from other deejays. Now they have no problem finding material for their Portland show. Najarian said, “We could do two hours. We only do one hour on KNRK, and it’s not enough time.”

Miller and Najarian have a lovely daughter, Georgia, now five years old. When I told them about my experience with my kids and the music I felt compelled to give up, they related their own story. Miller said, “We talked to [Georgia] about cursing. But we don’t play a lot of stuff that we used to listen to, because it’s all grimy, punk rock stuff. We played the Ramones for her when she was little, and we used to dance to it all the time. Now we have to explain it all, so we don’t play as much because she’s very curious, and she wants to know everything.”

With the arrival of my first little girl, I figured that my days of going to concerts every week and listening to music I wanted to hear were over. My wife and I suffered through our share of the big purple dinosaur, but now that our daughters are six and seven, we are starting to share some of our favorite music with them. Thankfully, we’ve discovered a new source of entertaining songs from both familiar artists and new ones. A message to other parents of young children out there: don’t worry—your days of sleeping late on weekends may have ended long ago, but there’s a new way to enjoy Saturday mornings with your kids that doesn’t involve the television. Check out Greasy Kid Stuff and see what you find there. You may end up enjoying the music as much as your kids do. As Miller and Najarian say, “Grease on Earth!”

Valentine's Day playlist
Curious about the kinds of songs that can be heard on Greasy Kid Stuff? Here’s a sample playlist from a show they recorded on Valentine’s Day, 2009.

1. The Dandy Lions, "Greasy Kid Stuff," Greasy Kid Stuff: Songs From Inside the Radio (Confidential, 2002)
2. Death by Chocolate, "If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out," Death by Chocolate (Jetset, 2001)
3. Jellyfish, "Sebrina, Paste and Plato," Spilt Milk (Charisma, 1993)
4. The Rutles, "Piggy in the Middle," The Rutles (Rhino, 1990)
5. Shonen Knife, "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head," What the World Needs Now (Big Deal, 1998)
6. The Galactic Heroes, "George Washington," unreleased
7. They Might Be Giants, "James K. Polk," Dial-A-Song: 20 Years of They Might Be Giants (Elektra/Rhino, 2002)
8. The White Stripes, "We're Going To Be Friends," Red Blood Cells
   
9. They Might Be Giants, "Greasy Kid Stuff," The Else/Cast Your Pods to the Wind (Idlewild/Zöe, 2007)
10. Yo La Tengo, "My Little Corner of the World," Greasy Kid Stuff: Songs From Inside the Radio (Confidential, 2002)
11. Caspar Babypants, "Sleeping Baby, Here I Am!" (self-released, 2009)
12. Snow Patrol, "I Am an Astronaut," Colours Are Brighter (Rough Trade, 2006)
13. Blossom Dearie, "Unpack Your Adjectives," Schoolhouse Rock box set (Rhino, 1996)
14. Blossom Dearie, "Doop-Doo-De-Doop (A Doodlin' Song)," Jazz for Kids: Sing, Clap, Wiggle and, Shake (Verve, 2004)
15. Olivia Olson & Eban Schletter, "Mouser Mecha-Catbot," Greasy Kid Stuff 2: More Songs From Inside the Radio (Confidential, 2004)
16. Parry Gripp, "Do You Like Waffles?" Do You Like Waffles? (Oglio, 2008)
17. James Kochalka Superstar, "Monkey vs. Robot," Monkey vs. Robot (Tarquin, 1997)
18. FunkeyMonkeys, "Ribbit, Ribbit, Tastes Like Chicken" (self-released, 2007)

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Matt Schrunk is a native Portlander studying in the PSU graduate publishing program. He now lives in Scappoose with his wife and kids and hopes to be a book editor someday soon.

Almost Famous: Are Local Musicians Happy at Home?

Written by Max Kramer
Edited by Anvi Bui

Across the nation and the world, people have Portland on the brain. Today, it is easier to find an immigrant than a native in this city, and a popular question seems to be, "Where are you from?" And unless the person in question is wearing a cowboy hat or hula skirt, the answer tends to be unpredictable. They come from all over: Virginia, California, England, Chile, California, Alaska, China, Florida, and of course, California. Many will say it is Portland’s rich and varied culture, lifestyle and cuisine that draw them here. Some of them like the city’s laid-back lifestyle combined with its entrepreneurship, while others enjoy its open spaces and outdoor offerings. Anyway you look at it: Portland is a great place to live. There are many things that make this city stand out amongst others, but as far as the mainstream music business is concerned, our musicians are not one of them. However, it isn’t because we’re lacking them; any day of the week, you can easily peruse a local newspaper like The Mercury or the Willamette Week and find page after page of shows, tours and club listings. Almost every night, you have the choice of listening to DJ’s spinning dance music at clubs, artists reciting poetry at open-mic, or even headlining acts performing at sold out shows. But for some reason; some dark and dirty reason, Portland is inept at establishing itself as a nationally acclaimed music scene.

Portland could possibly be stunting its artists, stopping them from reaching “greater heights.” The most obvious reason to think so is its lack of any industry presence. In other words, there are very few acclaimed recording studios, influential record labels, and distribution teams in the area. Also, Portland is situated between Seattle and L.A., forcing groups signed to a major label (such as Geffen or Capitol Records) to relocate; and, in order for a music scene to be classified as truly local, it has to be similar to the locale itself. This results in Portland becoming fertile grounds for independent record labels and distribution groups. When local musicians work with these independent record labels and recording studios, it creates a community. Anyone who has witnessed the formation of this community can testify to its pros and cons. The most glaring con is the belief that a musician who wishes to break out of this group to reach a wider audience has very few outlets to do so. Not to say that standing out in the Portland music scene is simple, but those with dreams of platinum records might want to look elsewhere.

Mic Crenshaw, a respected and locally well-known hip-hop artist, says his audiences are “people who I really respect, so I’m successful in that regard.” After several group albums and solo EPs, Crenshaw enjoys creating music that is a reflection of what he likes, and music that when heard, “the people who listen to it do it in a way that I want them to.” This approach Crenshaw takes to his music exudes integrity. One can still take notice of how he carries himself with a quiet humility, even without broad shoulders or a strong stare. Portland is lucky to have Crenshaw, but he represents only one perspective in an eclectic pool of talent.

Cartoonist John Callahan has many things to say about current issues. He has been writing and drawing racy cartoons for the Willamette Week for the past twenty years. If you can catch this redhead cruising around Northwest’s Alphabet district, he’ll be more than happy to discuss his recent focus: songwriting. Working with groups like My Morning Jacket, Callahan is quickly becoming recognized for more than his cartoons. Reflecting on the current state of Portland’s music industry, he talks about musicians finding it harder than previous decades to stake a claim on originality and sound.

According to Callahan, these bands defined the sound and music of their generation. They could stand alone via a mix of talent, integrity and originality. One of the problems today is that “everyone is a songwriter; that’s the reason why the music today is all watered down,” he says. Exposure seems to be a source behind this development. With the creation of the Internet and advances in technology, personal and independent distributions have never been so desirable and easily attained. And what are the payoffs to exposure and ‘making it’ as a musician? Callahan shrugs his shoulders and answers, “Pussy I suppose, or some form of it.”

Portland has its own flavor and plenty of clubs to showcase it. There are street performers galore, many of which have CDs for sale. I challenge you to go a week without hearing about “My Friend’s Band.” It’s almost impossible, and unless you choose to do complete and socially deforming isolation, it is detrimental to even try. It seems like everyone and their mom is a musician. Craigslist.com and newspaper pages are filled with the following musician classifieds: “WANTED! Lady Singer/Accordion Player”; “Melodic Death Metal Band Needs Brutal Singer”; “Bluegrass Lead Mandolin.” And those ads are just from skimming the first page. You can’t walk the streets of this town without literally tripping over a musician.

So why is it that Portland is almost unknown in the national recording and music industry? Sure; we have our stars. Many can still remember when Portland’s own band The Dandy Warhols released their album, The Dandy Warhols Come Down in 1997, putting the city on the map for modern rock. The band is so well known around town that I have met not just one, but two people who claim to have done drugs with the band. Between 1997 and now, Portland has grown by over a half a million residents, and the only other major band that we’ve managed to produce is The Decembrists. Portland has all the fixings to be one of the best music scenes in the country, but is that what the city really wants?

Crenshaw has an interesting answer to this question. He was asked about what he would do if offered a recording contract from a major record label. However, in signing such the contract, Crenshaw would be required to dilute his message or even change it entirely. In response, our hip-hop hero says something uniquely Portland: “You cross that bridge when you get there,” he says, “and here is how you cross it.” According to Crenshaw, he would consult his personal community regarding his offer. First, he would bring the issue to those he trusted most. He claims his reasoning behind this is because decisions like that will change everything. One has to know where they’ve been, where they are going and how they want to get there. He explains how decisions like that affect people other than yourself, like people who depend on you. “Think of concentric circles,” Crenshaw says, and if your emergency contacts urge you to move forward in that decision, you take another step outward. Crenshaw explains, “after that inner circle, you check in some of the other people who maybe aren’t be as connected. These people see you from the outside and can give you some practical advice. There are things that maybe you don’t take as seriously, but people that look at you who you don’t know matter might take very seriously. That’s how I’d cross that bridge.”

The group Nightcrawlers is comprised of two local emcees and a DJ who happens to be one of the most talented hip-hop DJs in the city. The group just released their first album and is enjoying a bit of a spotlight. Still, the Nightcrawlers don’t seem to make it much further than small local venues. To understand their approach to the music scene, you must witness one of their shows. The group is easily accessible before and after a show, a trait that is admired by the Portland community. Portlanders like to see, touch, and talk to our artists, maybe even buy them a beer before their set. The group gets on stage, plays their songs and chats with the crowd. After the show, one of them might even approach you and half-heartedly inquire if you would like to purchase a CD. And that about does it; they seem to be satisfied opening for the better known hip-hop acts of the northwest. They do talk about how they would like to get their music out to rest of the country, but to them, playing for Portland crowds is doing just that. They’re getting their music out to a community that respects them and their efforts.

For many Portland musicians, there is something very intimate about being an integral part of their community. There may not be money or national recognition to show for it; however, there is community appreciation. When asked, most will say that a packed club or basement is the best crowd they could ask for. It is all a matter of the artist’s belief on progression, validation, and appreciation. It is not the city itself that is keeping these artists from going mainstream, but instead, perhaps it is the communities that this city has created. These communities seem to encourage the thought that you don’t need to satisfy a bunch of strangers across the country when you can get the feedback you need from those right outside your door.

Crenshaw is a veteran of independent music, having released albums across the nation. Even as a veteran, he approaches his community with the bigger issues concerning his music. He is an example of how a conscientious musician operates; just like the Nightcrawlers, who are an example of how locally satisfied musicians operate. Even Callahan, who has found a niche in the ocean of song writing, can define another perspective on modern music. Every now and then a Dandy Warhols or Decemberists will make find their way into the national stream. And maybe it’s the other musicians of Portland who, by creating a nurturing community, stunt any possibility money and fame. Maybe the same things that make Portland special are the things that make it inhospitable to musicians’ dreams of chart topping albums. Who knows, and moreover, who really cares? It’s quite clear that Portland has talent and the people of Portland love that talent. So while people in Miami and New York are listening to the same songs that the people in L.A. and Chicago are listening to, we’re going to check out that new “Melodic Death Metal Band”; I think they’re opening for Crenshaw tonight.

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When he isn't wrestling Arctic Jaguars or touring with the Wu-Tang Clan, Max Kramer can be found in and around Portland, Oregon. He enjoys cultural happenings and the finer things in life, like Wisconsin sharp cheddar and video games. Max is a piscatarian and has never seen an Indiana Jones film. He also hopes you have a wonderful day.