Top 40 radio in the 60s and 70s was a place where you could here a variety of styles and genres. Mostly, it was white rock and roll artists. But sometime there would be crossover from from other genres. For episode 11 of our tribute to the deep track i...

Dance like your bones are out, kiddies! It's time for another Halloween party from your ghoulish pals up on The Balcony. See the orange glowing light and the sound of screaming ghosts surround the punchbowl full of candy delights. Mainly chocolate,

It's a long-asked question of how epics begin. They all begin with someone thinking about something that might be nothing, really, ya know . . . just an idea. Well, let's give those little ideas a listen. For episode 11 of Embryonic,

Every generation produces their share of one-hit (or no-hit) wonders. The 90s were no different. In this episode of our forgotten songs and song-writers show Dusty Gems, we spin all the tunes you listened to during your flannel and Doc Martens phase.

We here at The Balcony are strictly products of the West Coast. From the food we eat at Tommy's, to the clothes we buy at Goodwill, to the hip-hop we listen to. It's a party on the Pacific Coast. For episode 11 of our tribute to all good beats,

Nor everyone was old enough to be a punk rocker or cool enough to be a New Waver. So, what did these nerds do? They invent their own sound. In the 101 Series Lesson 121, we spin the records that got the dorm rooms poopin' in the early to mid-eighties.

Around 1991, stuff got weird. Nirvana replaced Michael Jackson on the charts, Bill Clinton played sax-a-ma-phone on that teevee show, and country music was dominated by guys in really big hats and gals with too much fringe doing too much line dancing.

Between us, the members of the Balcony Radio staff are lucky to own five cats. That's a lot of hair to sweep off the floor. But, it's also a lot of inspiration for some good tunes. The Egyptians worships cats, the Internet worships cats,

For every Phil Collins, Michael Jackson, Lionel Richie, or Sting, there's a Gwen or a Bjork . . . singers who left a bunch of scrubs behind for a big-ass solo career. Remember, Beyonce was in a group. Do you remember their name? No. You don't.

The spirit of '67 is still alive and moldy like a good mushroom in some of the danker corners of modern music. Guess what, people still do LSD, peyote, mescaline, and other plant-based ass blower-awayers just like the hippies did. And,