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Lisa Maxwell
Anna
O
tell me all about
Anna Livia! I want to hear all
about Anna Livia. Well, you know Anna Livia? Yes, of course,
we all know Anna Livia. Tell me all. Tell me now. You'll die
when you hear. Well, you know, when the old cheb went futt
and did what you know. Yes, I know, go on. Wash quit and
don't be dabbling. Tuck up your sleeves and loosen your talk-
tapes. And don't butt me — hike! — when you bend. Or what-
ever it was they threed to make out he thried to two in the
Fiendish park. He's an awful old reppe. Look at the shirt of him!
Look at the dirt of it! He has all my water black on me. And it
steeping and stuping since this time last wik. How many goes
is it I wonder I washed it? I know by heart the places he likes to
saale, duddurty devil! Scorching my hand and starving my fa-
mine to make his private linen public. Wallop it well with your
battle and clean it. My wrists are wrusty rubbing the mouldaw
stains. And the dneepers of wet and the gangres of sin in it! What
was it he did a tail at all on Animal Sendai? And how long was
he under loch and neagh? It was put in the newses what he did,
nicies and priers, the King fierceas Humphrey, with illysus dis-
tilling, exploits and all. But toms will till. I know he well. Temp
untamed will hist for no man. As you spring so shall you neap.
O, the roughty old rappe! Minxing marrage and making loof.
added to station 6/20/2026 8:28:03 PM
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Alternative Modern Rock
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Profanation
CUT
Reeve Gootch was right and Reeve Drughad was sinistrous! And
the cut of him! And the strut of him! How he used to hold his
head as high as a howeth, the famous eld duke alien, with a hump
of grandeur on him like a walking wiesel rat. And his derry's
own drawl and his corksown blather and his doubling stutter
and his gullaway swank. Ask Lictor Hackett or Lector Reade
of Garda Growley or the Boy with the Billyclub. How elster is
he a called at all? Qu'appelle? Huges Caput Earlyfouler. Or
where was he born or how was he found? Urgothland, Tvistown
on the Kattekat? New Hunshire, Concord on the Merrimake?
Who blocksmitt her saft anvil or yelled lep to her pail? Was her
banns never loosened in Adam and Eve's or were him and her
but captain spliced? For mine ether duck I thee drake. And by
my wildgaze I thee gander. Flowey and Mount on the brink of
time makes wishes and fears for a happy isthmass. She can show
all her lines, with love, license to play. And if they don't remarry
that hook and eye may! O, passmore that and oxus another! Don
Dom Dombdomb and his wee follyo! Was his help inshored in
the Stork and Pelican against bungelars, flu and third risk par-
ties? I heard he dug good tin with his doll, delvan first and duvlin
after, when he raped her home, Sabrine asthore, in a parakeet's
cage, by dredgerous lands and devious delts, playing catched and
mythed with the gleam of her shadda, (if a flic had been there to
pop up and pepper him!) past auld min's manse and Maisons
Allfou and the rest of incurables and the last of immurables, the
quaggy waag for stumbling. Who sold you that jackalantern's
tale? Pemmican's pasty pie! Not a grasshoop to ring her, not an
antsgrain of ore. In a gabbard he barqued it, the boat of life,
from the harbourless Ivernikan Okean, till he spied the loom of
his landfall and he loosed two croakers from under his tilt, the
gran Phenician rover. By the smell of her kelp they made the
pigeonhouse.
added to station 6/20/2026 8:31:59 PM
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Metal/Hardcore
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Larree
Psurfadelic
Like fun they did! But where was Himself, the
timoneer? That marchantman he suivied their scutties right over
the wash, his cameleer's burnous breezing up on him, till with
his runagate bowmpriss he roade and borst her bar. Pilcomayo!
Suchcaughtawan! And the whale's away with the grayling! Tune
your pipes and fall ahumming, you born ijypt, and you're no-
thing short of one! Well, ptellomey soon and curb your escumo.
When they saw him shoot swift up her sheba sheath, like any
gay lord salomon, her bulls they were ruhring, surfed with
spree. Boyarka buah! Boyana bueh! He erned his lille Bunbath
hard, our staly bred, the trader. He did. Look at here. In this wet
of his prow. Don't you know he was kaldt a bairn of the brine,
Wasserbourne the waterbaby? Havemmarea, so he was! H.C.E.
has a codfisck ee. Shyr she's nearly as badher as him herself.
Who? Anna Livia?
added to station 7/15/2026 4:44:15 AM
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Surf
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Mirage Band
Big Band medley of dance hits
Ay, Anna Livia. Do you know she was call-
ing bakvandets sals from all around, nyumba noo, chamba choo,
to go in till him, her erring cheef, and tickle the pontiff aisy-oisy?
She was? Gota pot! Yssel that the limmat? As El Negro winced
when he wonced in La Plate. O, tell me all I want to hear, how
loft she was lift a laddery dextro! A coneywink after the bunting
fell. Letting on she didn't care, sina feza, me absantee, him man
in passession, the proxenete! Proxenete and phwhat is phthat?
Emme for your reussischer Honddu jarkon! Tell us in franca
langua. And call a spate a spate. Did they never sharee you ebro
at skol, you antiabecedarian? It's just the same as if I was to go
par examplum now in conservancy's cause out of telekinesis and
proxenete you. For coxyt sake and is that what she is? Botlettle
I thought she'd act that loa. Didn't you spot her in her windaug,
wubbling up on an osiery chair, with a meusic before her all
cunniform letters, pretending to ribble a reedy derg on a fiddle
she bogans without a band on? Sure she can't fiddan a dee, with
bow or abandon! Sure, she can't! Tista suck. Well, I never now
heard the like of that!
added to station 7/15/2026 4:47:59 AM
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Dance
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The Misteriosos
7 Years
Tell me moher. Tell me moatst. Well, old
Humber was as glommen as grampus, with the tares at his thor
and the buboes for ages and neither bowman nor shot abroad and
bales allbrant on the crests of rockies and nera lamp in kitchen or
church and giant's holes in Grafton's causeway and deathcap
mushrooms round Funglus grave and the great tribune's barrow
all darnels occumule, sittang sambre on his sett, drammen and
drommen, usking queasy quizzers of his ruful continence, his
childlinen scarf to encourage his obsequies where he'd check their debths in that mormon's thames, be questing and handsetl, hop,
step and a deepend, with his berths in their toiling moil, his swal-
lower open from swolf to fore and the snipes of the gutter pecking
his crocs, hungerstriking all alone and holding doomsdag over
hunselv, dreeing his weird, with his dander up, and his fringe
combed over his eygs and droming on loft till the sight of the
sternes, after zwarthy kowse and weedy broeks and the tits of
buddy and the loits of pest and to peer was Parish worth thette
mess. You'd think all was dodo belonging to him how he durmed
adranse in durance vaal. He had been belching for severn years.
added to station 7/16/2026 4:24:24 PM
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Psychedelic Rock
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9giants
monster mouth
And there she was, Anna Livia, she darent catch a winkle of
sleep, purling around like a chit of a child, Wendawanda, a finger-
thick, in a Lapsummer skirt and damazon cheeks, for to ishim
bonzour to her dear dubber Dan. With neuphraties and sault
from his maggias. And an odd time she'd cook him up blooms
of fisk and lay to his heartsfoot her meddery eygs, yayis, and
staynish beacons on toasc and a cupenhave so weeshywashy of
Greenland's tay or a dzoupgan of Kaffue mokau an sable or
Sikiang sukry or his ale of ferns in trueart pewter and a shin-
kobread (hamjambo, bana?) for to plaise that man hog stay his
stomicker till her pyrraknees shrunk to nutmeg graters while her
togglejoints shuck with goyt and as rash as she'd russ with her
peakload of vivers up on her sieve (metauwero rage it swales and
rieses) my hardey Hek he'd kast them frome him, with a stour
of scorn, as much as to say you sow and you sozh, and if he didn't
peg the platteau on her tawe, believe you me, she was safe
enough. And then she'd esk to vistule a hymn, The Heart Bowed
Down or The Rakes of Mallow or Chelli Michele's La Calumnia è
un Vermicelli or a balfy bit ov old Jo Robidson. Sucho fuffing a
fifeing 'twould cut you in two! She'd bate the hen that crowed
on the turrace of Babbel. What harm if she knew how to cockle
her mouth!
added to station 7/16/2026 4:27:03 PM
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Alternative Modern Rock
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Thicker
Under Your Nose
And not a mag out of Hum no more than out of the
mangle weight. Is that a faith? That's the fact. Then riding the
ricka and roya romanche, Annona, gebroren aroostokrat Nivia,
dochter of Sense and Art, with Sparks' pirryphlickathims funk-
ling her fan, anner frostivying tresses dasht with virevlies, while the prom beauties sreeked nith their bearers' skins! — in
a period gown of changeable jade that would robe the wood of
two cardinals' chairs and crush poor Cullen and smother Mac-
Cabe. O blazerskate! Theirs porpor patches! And brahming to
him down the feedchute, with her femtyfyx kinds of fondling
endings, the poother rambling off her nose: Vuggybarney,
Wickerymandy!
added to station 7/19/2026 3:02:12 AM
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Retro Rock
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mrtalliman
Dick Cheney (is a Duck Huntin' Man)
Hello, ducky, please don't die! Do you know
what she started cheeping after, with a choicey voicey like water-
glucks or Madame Delba to Romeoreszk? You'll never guess.
Tell me. Tell me. Phoebe, dearest, tell, O tell me and I loved you
better nor you knew. And letting on hoon var daft about the warbly
sangs from over holmen: High hellskirt saw ladies hensmoker lily-
hung pigger: and soay and soan and so firth and so forth in a tone
sonora and Oom Bothar below like Bheri-Bheri in his sandy
cloak, so umvolosy, as deaf as a yawn, the stult! Go away! Poor
deef old deary! Yare only teasing! Anna Liv? As chalk is my
judge! And didn't she up in sorgues and go and trot doon and
stand in her douro, puffing her old dudheen, and every shirvant
siligirl or wensum farmerette walking the pilend roads, Sawy,
Fundally, Daery or Maery, Milucre, Awny or Graw, usedn't she
make her a simp or sign to slip inside by the sullyport? You don't
say, the sillypost? Bedouix but I do!
added to station 7/19/2026 3:04:11 AM
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Folk/Acoustic Rock/Americana
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Ecstatic Mood
THE FUTURE IS CALLING
Calling them in, one by one
(To Blockbeddum here! Here the Shoebenacaddie!) and legging
a jig or so on the sihl to show them how to shake their benders
and the dainty how to bring to mind the gladdest garments out
of sight and all the way of a maid with a man and making a sort
of a cackling noise like two and a penny or half a crown and hold-
ing up a silliver shiner. Lordy, lordy, did she so? Well, of all the
ones ever I heard! Throwing all the neiss little whores in the
world at him! To inny captured wench you wish of no matter
what sex of pleissful ways two adda tammar a lizzy a lossie to
hug and hab haven in Humpy's apron!
And what was the wyerye rima she made! Odet! Odet! Tell
me the trent of it while I'm lathering hail out of Denis Florence
MacCarthy's combies. Rise it, flut ye, pian piena! I'm dying
down off my iodine feet until I lerryn Anna Livia's cushingloo,
201 UP
that was writ by one and rede by two and trouved by a poule in
the parco! I can see that, I see you are. How does it tummel?
Listen now. Are you listening? Yes, yes! Idneed I am! Tarn your
ore ouse! Essonne inne!
added to station 7/19/2026 3:06:57 AM
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Alternative
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