Video Killed the Radio Star (And I Was There to Watch) So I have a thought, and it showed up this morning with the radio on... I was getting ready for the day, half awake, the way I am most mornings before the Diet Coke kicks in, and the song came on. You know the one. And a line went right between the eyes before I'd even found my shoes. "They took the credit for your second symphony / Rewritten by machine on new technology." Sigh. I stood there in the hallway like an idiot with one sock on. Because I was there. I mean I was really there, for the very first one. Around 1981, I was twelve (maybe thirteen, the math argues with my memory a little), sitting on the living room floor of the friends across the street with basically the whole neighborhood crammed in around a television, waiting for MTV to start. We didn't have cable at our house. We didn't even have a color TV, that didn't happen for me until I was seventeen, so the whole reason I was on that floor was that somebody else had the future and was kind enough to let the rest of us watch it come on. Blew my 14 year old's mind when he found out I was alive before we had color! And the first thing they played was a song about how the future was going to kill the thing we were all about to stop doing. Let that sink in for a second, because I don't think we noticed it then. A room full of kids, cheering a new technology, and the opening statement of that technology was a lament for the technology it was replacing. Nobody on that floor was thinking about the radio star. We were thinking about the pictures. The pictures were amazing. "Video killed the radio star / In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far." (I typed "to far" in my notes this morning. Fixed it. Leave me alone, I was typing on my phone.) Okay, here's where the tangent starts, and I'm flagging it now so you can't say I didn't warn you. The radio is still here and Murphy's radio won't leave me alone. I know that sounds obvious. It was playing in my hallway this morning. It's in my car. It's in the shop right now, humming along behind the laser. Video did not kill the radio star, not the way the song said it would, not the way everybody in 1981 half believed. What actually happened is weirder and a lot more boring. Some radio stars did lose their careers, because they didn't look right for the new thing, and that's a real loss and I'm not going to pretend it isn't. Some people who'd never have been heard before suddenly had a camera and an audience. Radio changed what it was. Video changed what it was. Then the internet showed up and did it all again to both of them, and somebody always stands up and says this is the end of the real thing.