Cyrano

In the midst of establishing a musical dynasty here on the mainland, Tallulah Breakwater heard the distress call of a distant conch shell playing "Tiajuana Taxi."

With a deep sense of foreboding, she turned her kayak from our shores and returned to her native island to quell an insidious coup. She managed to reclaim the throne of her ancestors, win the popular support of her people and feed her dogs. Yet before bidding aloha to these shores so rich in yard sales, she passed the tiki torch of espionage, soul jazz and 8 diagram pole fighting to a young successor.

This brash young man was known in almost no circles as Cyrano. He assumed the name less for his Gallic heraldry and prominent proboscis and more for the ability to speak his heart through the words and sounds of others. Was he an intellectual cannibal and musical counterfeiter? Was he a shrewd selector and distinct arbiter of sinister, sleazy, 60's sock-it-to-ya sounds?

Well, the jury is still out on those questions but one thing was for sure:
KXLU had become the beautiful but dull-witted Christian whose mouth would speak Cyrano's intentions to his fair city. Yet his whispering was done not from nearby shrubbery, but from a duct-taped microphone. The passion and the poetry in his soul found sanctuary in the tunes of Irma Thomas, The Skatalites, Willie Bobo and Lee Morgan. By connecting the dots like funky constellations, he furthered the work of his mentor and swizzled up a deeply satisfying, hip dropping concoction.

With only 3000 watts of love to give, his method of administration held firm at two unreliable turntables and a mixing board sticky with Vermouth and candle wax.