For some time now, since I have a car equipped with an audio system that allows it, I enjoy driving around listening to Podcasts, those downloadable recordings from the Internet introduced by Steve Jobs in the early years of this century through the IPod.
A great leap forward compared to the cassette tapes played on the battery-powered recorder in the car borrowed from my father! To be honest, I didn't immediately understand the intrinsic usefulness of Podcasts, but the possibility to listen to broadcasts at will as if they were folders, pause them, resume them, without using magnetic or digital media, eventually sparked my interest in the genre. In short, it's a very convenient system.
But, there's always a but: despite the seemingly vast array of offerings, not all proposals are up to par or particularly interesting to my tastes, and the listenable ones quickly run out. Sometimes the recordings are not well-done, the voices monotonous and soporific, the volumes imbalanced: even the technical component plays a role.
One must keep in mind that anyone can make and publish a Podcast following some basic rules, which are, however, a bit complicated in cases of musical topics, since it involves the obligation of registering with Siae when inserting songs, with limits also on the total duration of the recording and the percentage of usable tracks, with different costs.
The first Podcast that paved the way for me was something I initially heard on the radio, live, but at times I couldn't always follow, and when I learned that I could also listen to the broadcast later, I started looking for a way to do it.
So, having found the distribution platform, I began downloading "Rock is Dead," which tells the life and especially the death of famous and lesser-known musicians, not strictly rock. The numerous stories are based on the book of the same name published in 2017 by the two hosts, under the pseudonyms F.T Sandman and Epish Porzioni, skilled at involving listeners like me, curious about the tragic end of some musical talents.
The episodes initially lasted half an hour and over time have grown to an hour, usually covering two cases. A brief start with the phrase "live from the rockstar cemetery" and then the theme song "People Who Died" by musician and writer Jim Carroll, followed by the presentation of the protagonist character, the musical career, a hint of song until the inevitable departure, which is sometimes really strange, like that of Terry Kath, guitarist and founder of "Chicago," who shot himself with his own gun simulating a Russian roulette in the presence of friends, thinking the weapon was not loaded, or the tragic and never-clarified end of Sam Cooke, the pioneer of soul music, killed by a prostitute in a third-rate motel, he who drove a Ferrari. But I don't want to spoil anymore.
In short, a pleasant and engaging Podcast for all music lovers and, a little bit, for fans of the macabre...
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