The Indy In-Tune Podcast

Indy In-Tune #100: Good Friends Good Tunes

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Reflections on a Century of Episodes 

Show #100.  Somehow I'd always known we'd get here, even though many of the shows that originally inspired me to get into podcasting have long since faded -- some of them with many fewer shows than this.  Sure, I allowed for the possibility that there may only be five people listening by the time I got here, but I was bound and determined to ensure that putting that leading 0 in front of the other 099 episodes was justified.  On the whole, I'm pretty pleased with what we've accomplished.  I wouldn't say we've ever "phoned in" an episode, but I will admit that at times, individual episodes weren't really up to snuff, falling short of how good I really thought they could be for various reasons, but many more that I didn't think would be all that great surprised me and became some of my favorite moments.  If there's one thing I've learned in all this time, it's that you just can't predict these things or have any preconceived notions going in. 

When I look back at the archive page at all of the shows, the early ones still stick out for me as the most memorable, even though I have trouble (like most musicians) listening to my "early work."  I remember Nuvo objecting to our recording a show at "their event," then finally relenting (thanks to some pressure applied the band that invited us) but still insisting that we had to conduct the interview out of sight of the patrons, which meant crowding in a corner of the venue's kitchen and talking over clanking dishes and buzzing lights.  I remember finishing the second half of one show by cramming six people into a van with mic cables knotted up and strewn from the front seat to the back seat because the venue had gotten too loud and rowdy to record.  I remember discovering Jagermeister for the first time in the middle of a show and wondering how the hell I was going to get through the second half of the interview when I couldn't feel my face and I was talking like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert. I remember meeting Tish Lyndsey for the very first time and getting her to happily don a space-cadet headset over her silk evening gown and laughing ourselves silly (to the annoyance of staff and patrons) in the back corner of the Jazz Kitchen.  I remember a lot of love and laughs at various Kammy's Kauzes, either frozen, wet, or baking in the sun.  But, mostly I remember meeting a lot of cool people and making a lot of really good friends doing this show.  Four of the best ones joined me for a few beers last January to reminisce and talk about whatever came to mind.  The result is this otherwise low-key anniversary episode.

Is the show a success?  I'm not sure how to judge that.  Certainly respect and name recognition have improved among local acts and venue owners since those early days.  Ratings pretty much flattened out years ago, but they've been relatively consistent all this time -- so while we're not turning people off in large numbers, if there's a next level to this stuff, it continues to elude us.  All of these things have never been more than secondary concerns, however.  What really gets me charged up is seeing that one or two times a month when somebody, presumably new to the show, goes back and downloads every episode in one sitting.  Though I both pity and envy them for the ordeal they are about to put themselves through, the fact is, the permanency of what we've done here really means more to me than how many people are checking out the most current episode.  I have always intended Indy In-Tune to serve as a time capsule of a particular era in the Indianapolis music scene.  In our run, we've caught a few bands early on in their rise to relative stardom.  We've captured t of a lot of former line-ups and even now-defunct bands and permanently preserved a little of their history.  Most of all, I hope we've turned a lot of people on to music and performers that they otherwise might not have heard, and brought all of guests at least a couple of new fans for their effort.  In 100 episodes, I think we've proven that fame and "mainstream success" is by no means a measure of "talent."  There is music being made in garages, played in small neighborhood taverns, and featured on this show that I would put up against the stuff on corporate radio and the billboard charts any day.  As long as we can occasionally convince people of this, or at least get them to think a little before writing the assertion off, then this has all been worth it. 

Our sincerest thank you to the fans, the musicians, and those who have helped and supported us behind the mic over the years.  Not sure where we go from here, but we're glad to have had you with us on the long strange trip so far.

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