![]() The Federal Communications Commissioned ended up shutting KSCR’s terrestrial broadcasts, but McNeill already realized the possibilities of internet radio. ![]() More importantly, he discovered that USC had an unused Real Media server sitting in a closet, so the station began broadcasting its FM signal through the internet, a rare move for any radio station during that time. ![]() While working at KSCR, McNeill became the station director and made the decision, progressive at the time, to schedule electronic music shows throughout the day, not just during the late night hours. In response, a group of students created KSCR, an unlicensed, low wattage radio station. Back in the 1970s the school turned its station, KUSC, over to public radio, where it was staffed with professionals and became the region’s biggest classical music station. Now he broadly defines his role as: “DJ, board member, creative consultant, project manager, spirit guide.” He became interested in radio while attending the University of Southern California in the 1990s. McNeill started Dublab and was the station’s director for its first 16 years. The High Times Cannabis Cup had them take over a stage this past summer at its event in San Bernardino, while the Los Angeles Music Center – Downtown’s hub for usually staid classical music and opera – began a relationship with Dublab a little over a year ago to get them to advise on and book special events. As McNeill says: “Any night of the week, Dublab DJs are playing somewhere in the city.”Ī broad swath of outsiders also seek out Dublab’s curatorial talents. The broadcast schedule is filled with an evolving roster of Los Angeles DJs and music obsessives. The station throws its own themed events, like the ambient-focused Tonalism, and sets up club nights where they only play sad music and keep boxes of tissues on hand. “People usually explore music in such a limited capacity compared to what is possible,” says Mark “Frosty” McNeill, one of Dublab’s co-founders.īesides what they send out streaming into the world, Dublab has become an experiential presence in Los Angeles. It’s become a haven and destination for seekers and eccentrics, an unconventional entity that might start its broadcast day with languid disco and that schedules its hyper-kinetic juke show for the early afternoon on a Tuesday. We heard an excerpt of the title track, which is much longer and really keeps going into all these different spaces.”įor the best part of two decades Dublab has existed on a subfrequency of Los Angeles-born radio, one not advertised on highway billboards or emblazoned on tote bags earned with a pledge of $10 a month. ![]() He is one of the great keepers of the Santo Daime mystical music of the ayahuasca tradition in Brazil, and this album that he made, which I love dearly, is called Mistérios da Amazônia. “This is Theme Galaxy, our theme today is ‘mystical, spiritual, and psychedelic.’ Let’s talk about these pieces,” said Niño with the easy tone of a waiter explaining your salumi plate. His co-host Miguel Atwood-Ferguson sat in the corner, with a Mac laptop balancing on his knees and his shoes nowhere to be seen.Īt around half-past two, they switched on the microphones for a brief spoken interlude. With a bushy beard taking over his face and a blue-gemmed ring on his pinky finger, Niño transmits supernatural jazz and acid-licked folk rock at a bit rate of 320. O n a sweaty summer afternoon in Los Angeles, Carlos Niño sat behind the boards in the modest, un-air conditioned studio of Dublab, the internet radio station that’s been broadcasting for 17 years.
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