#i helped my dad put together his electric smoker and putting covers over the outside faucets lol

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[remember-wim-faros]

Episode 2 - Genius and Location

[voice echoing] When a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it… It makes a sound!

Ladies and gentlemen, we are so close! Can you feel it, Rosemary Hills? Can you feel the tugging, the suspenseful adrenaline crackling through the dried grass of the fairway, as we wait together in tense anticipation for the music?

Hello and welcome to the second episode of “It Makes a Sound”. I’m Deirdre Gardner, your host, and you’re listening to the only show ever solely dedicated to the music and legacy of Wim Faros, resident genius of our Rosemary Hills.

In our first episode, I had the unique privilege of announcing the near miraculous discovery of a cassette tape containing Faros’ lost 1992 concert. Likely the first time he played for a public audience. And it is only here, with me, on “It Makes a Sound”, this show, that you’ll be able to hear these precious tracks. And that will happen very soon, very soon.

Today I remind myself .. of the great archeologist Howard Carter, who after years of looking, came across the steps of the tomb of King Tut. Now do you, do you think, I mean he wasn’t able to just bust in there all at once. There was a bit of a process, some red tape to get around, important people to bring over to help, some planning as to how the heck to open an ancient thing. This is very common with monumentally Earth-shattering finds.

And also it’s the reason that it’s urgent that you contact me if you are in possession of a working cassette tape player. You can reach me at itmakesasound@aol.com.

In the meantime, here on the table before me, the cassette tape sits. Like the stairs in the sand of the valley of the kings. The treasures contained within its… small plastic sarcophagus, it is yet not ready to be reveal.

Well, I trust the tape, I trust that it will be played when when it is ready be played. And I believe that the object is, is actually gifting us, with time to prepare. And on today’s show, I will pave the way for that music and help each of us carve out a space that is worthy of one of the greatest of our generation.

The best art historians tell us that in order to fully crack open and contextualize the meaning behind the moment of creation, one must look to the environment in which the artist is creating. Thus it is essential, as we ready our brains for this musical reckoning, that we turn to fellow residents of Rosemary Hills circa 1992. For instance, persons who perhaps find themselves having returned to the town after a duration of time. Who are uniquely qualified to reflect on local historical events. So I have gathered for us… some.. [paper rustling] more select material from the town archives. It’s a cross-sectional study, if you will, for us to sift through and examine. Together, we’ll look at the timeline of 1992 and how that relates to the social studies of Rosemary Hills. In order to come to a greater understanding of the how and the why Wim Faros created what is quickly becoming known colloquially, as the Attic Tape.

Location, location, location. Historians before me have asked: what would Edith Piaf be without Paris? Charles Dickins without London? What would Nazareth be without Jesus? What would Tucson be without Linda Ronstadt? We at “It Makes a Sound” ask: what is Rosemary Hills without Wim Faros? What would Wim Faros be, if not for Rosemary Hills?

I give you – 1992. An overview. I have…  I have… [papers rustling] some bullet points here. [pause] Rosemary Hills was flush with new money and in the midst of an unprecedented population boom and total identity transformation. An economic upturn and the commercial development rush of the late 1980’s, led to an incorporation of a large area of surrounding wildlife acreage. Transforming much of the humble forest village into a golf resort community and retirement Mecca. Separated from the old parts of town with gates and barbed wire fences.

Reflecting this change, the tallest structure in our town, the water tower, was completed in 1992, announcing boldly in royal blue cursive: “World’s Golf Capital”. What a vision. But this was premature. That water tower still overlooks the land of Wim Faros, now faded and rusty.

A new school opened Rosemary Hills Junior High, with classes in progress, even though the construction of the building was never finished because of enrollment difficulties as the average median age in the town was 60.

Back in the 1992, as my mother used to say, you could definitely swing a dead cat without hitting a kid in Rosemary Hills. You could tie a bunch of dead cats together and swim them and still hit nothing.

And now, let’s turn to the news. How did current events affect Wim’s home town? Well, I have found a pile of saved newspapers from the era. [paper rustling] Now, they have faded into a sepia tone, dry and cracking. Yet still, they proudly relay the important message of their day. I rhymed. Let’s dive into the research.

[pause, paper rustling] OK well, it was an election year, and the options were George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton. But as you recall, only the third party candidate Ross Perot was featured on Wim Faros’ bedroom mural.

[pause, paper rustling] Ah yes! The Mall of America had just opened in Minneapolis. So that would be just a few years after the ribbon of the Rosemary Hills mall was cut. And also, all the corporate-owned strip malls sprawled across the new side streets, with hope that the surging population of a golf course community would have an insatiable itch for sensible shoes, windbreakers, what else? Soup in bread bowls and electric can openers, wicker, so on.

Wim Faros, of course, was critical of consumer capitalism.

The NicoDerm patch is released, oh that’s interesting. Wim Faros was a non-smoker. But of course [chuckles], we will remember Park Song, who came from Korea and was hands down the best golfer living in Rosemary Hills. She, she wore four NicoDerm patches in a window sill shape on the bicep of her right arm. Nobody knew what they were at the time, we just thought it was a thing that great Korean golfers wore on their arm.

She lived in one of the largest houses near the club house, alone I think. But as we all know, she kept two domesticated peacocks as pets. Thank you, Park Song. Those peacocks and her talent made her an intimidating community presence. She called children “sugarplum”, but in a tone that was not sweet.

[pause, papers rustling] Prince Charles and Princess Diana officially separate. Well, get in line your highnesses, because so had the parents of basically every student enrolled at Rosemary Hills Junior High. And the whole school was like a Rainbows Program. Do-do we still have that Rainbows Programs, for kids whose newly single Mom or Dad had to move in with a more financially stable grandparent trying to live out retirement in the golf course. [sighs] The school spirit that united the kids was like – a wide-eyed stare of betrayal. Should have tried to make that into the mascot.

Wim Faros, however, did not attend Rosemary Hills Junior High, and parental figures were never seen around him. Who were his parents? Where were they? What did they like? What does he have in common with the princess of Windsor? We don’t yet know.

[paper rustling] The top of the box office, “Aladdin”. And the highest rated TV show is “America’ Favorite Funniest Home Videos”, oh boy. There is no evidence that these entertainments had any significant influence on Wim Faros’ art.

[paper rustling] The average price of a gallon of gas was a dollar and five cents. Well OK yes, speaking of cars, we should note that sometimes seen parked in a cul-de-sac outside of Wim Faros’ two-story bungalow was a Chrysler LeBaron convertible. Now the details of the car may have been hard to discern from afar, but if you were standing near the barbed wire fence that separated the golf course from the wilder unincorporated area of Rosemay Hills, you could see its faux-wood covering and sheepskin covered seats and steering wheel. And a green little tree car freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. And there was a peeling rusty Jones sticker on the passenger seat window and it was stickshift.

Around that time, that is in 1992, when gas cost just over a dollar, it is said that a significant dent appeared on that fence. To most, this dent may have gone unnoticed, as it was covered by overgrown weeds. But the dent happened to peel up the bottom of the fence upwards, so that theoretically, there could be enough space for, say, a medium-sized animal to crawl through. Soon after, the LeBaron was seen with a smashed-in white headlight. Whether or not there was a correlation between that headlight and that dent in the fence reminds a mystery to this day.

I’m Deirdre Gardner, and this is my show, “It Makes a Sound”. We are investigating the social and historical context of the time in which Wim Faros wrote the songs disovered on the Attic Tape. We have been looking at headlines from the newspapers of 1992. We’ll put these over to the side right now and move on to our next site of, hey this one’s Halloween. Pope John Paul the second lifted the edict against Galileo Galilei, which was made during the Inquisition, and apologized on behalf of the Catholic church.

Well, this strikes me. Galileo. A misunderstood genius, recognized only centuries after time. On October 31 1992,  residents of Rosemary Hills were sitting on their Lazyboys, stuffing themselves with candy, and watching the 10 o’clock news as the Pope pronounced the mea culpa for the sin of overlooking Galileo’s truth. While we had a potential prophet in our own midst. Do you see, listeners? Quite a coincidence.

We-we have to turn to more eyewitness accounts and comb through the documents to see if more historical connections can be made to that Halloween. [paper rustling] Where is it? Shit. (--) [whispering] downstairs.

[door closes, quick footsteps running in the stairs]

Old lady: Who’s there? I’m in a hole. Yes I’m in the 16th hole, if you can find, wind and dime it. [claps hands] I am the hole, holy smokes! The little girls go down the hole and they can’t get out because of the caterpillars and (bimbob), do you see? Hip hop hap, the ting tong tang, that’s a guitar. Do you remember (--) Miranda? Do you remember (-) Deirdre? We’re by the 16th hole. She keeps me here and she won’t let me go!

[footsteps] We’ll hide back here, hide in seek, with the Christmas and Santas! Shh, it’s a secret!

Deirdre [panting]: I found it! I found something! I have it. Ooh ah, OK, now I have it. Now, it’s just a few pages, handwritten on wide ruled paper in a purple velveteen diary. But it is an authenticated document testifying to events that took place on October 13, 1992.

I’m Deirdre Gardner and this is “It Makes a Sound”. We are deep into the archives, way in there.

OK. Now. This document appears to be written in first person present particible, interestingly. Whoo! OK, for today’s segment of a portrait of the artist as a young man… I will read it aloud to you now. October 31, 1992. “Part one. The loneliest trick-or-treated. The pillow case is tattered at the top. It’s full of Werther’s hard candies and Rolos. It’s a conspiracy of Werthers and Rolos this Halloween, the most mediocre candies of all. Halloween is the dumbest here. But it’s even sadder to stay home and, so like last year and the year before that and the year before that. I get Mom’s long gold-lamé dress out of a box in the mothy corner of the attic, safety-pin it at the back because it still totally sags around my stupid chest, weave a string through a large scarab medallion that I got from a fourth grade trip to the Natural History Museum, and tie it around my head. Then I sharpen a stub of a coal-black eyeliner pencil that’s been in the bathroom drawer in the left hand side for as long as I can remember, like from when I was a toddler. Weird, because whose is it? Mom has never ever worn eyeliner. But I trace the rim of my eye with the pencil, and then the rim of that rim, and then the rim of that rim. Again and again and again and again. I am, of course, Cleopatra.

Then I have an idea and I draw a squiggly snake on my arm. That’s new. It can’t be like an official rule, but no one trick or treats on the ground of our townhouse. Like as if one of the werid privileges of living in a gated golf course community is that you’re excluded from the obligation of giving handouts to hooded children once a year. So my Halloween means trekking up and down really long driveways by myself and figuring out dumb intercom systems at the front door. And then, if someone answers, waiting several awkward minutes, while they find their way through like a thousand rooms to the door. And then hearing like a thousand locks being unlocked. And houses are very far from each other. So I average like 1.2 houses every ten minutes.

So like four houses down, two blisters in, the sky turns split pea and starts to pour, duh, of course it does. So I turn off the street and I drag my gold lamé dress back over the golf course, taking my shortcut back to the townhouses where I live. I decide to see how many Rolos I can fit in my mouth at once to pass the time. The answer’s 9. I dab the pillowcase on my face to dry it, and I realize that the eye makeup has totally melted all the way down my face, neck, and chest. The pillowcase has a weird watercolor imprint of my Cleopatra face on it. Like those Monet lilies you see in postcards, but in a horror movie. Like if Monet was a psycho killer. The thing that was a snake on my arm now looks like 30 cigarette burns. The scarab medallion is sliding down my nose into my mouth like a bug. I’m disgusting. I pop the tenth Rolo in my mouth to confirm this, and it’s true.

And that’s when I see him. Well, that’s when I see the small figure in red coveralls and battered snake skin boots sitting high atop an oak tree branch swinging his feet, his head covered in a furry wolf mask. Next to him is a pumpkin painted entirely neon blue. Suddenly, an enormous bolt of lighting strikes the green sky backlighting the teen wolf. It is Wim Faros.

I start choking on the Rolos. The sky turns black.

Part 2. Electrified.

The next thing I know, I’m sitting upright on a beach. On my lap is an unopened bag of Twizzler Cherry Nibs, my favorite candy. So I know I must be dead. Then I realize it’s not a beach, of course, I’m just propped up against the lip of a small greenside sand bunker, a trap for the golfers. The Werthers are gone. The pillowcase remains.

I turn to get my body out of the sand trap and I kick something that rolls, so I kneel down to pluck it out of the sand. And it is now that I totally know that I am dead. Because it’s the neon blue pumpkin. I swear to God. Freshly singed into it, piercing all the way true, its neon painted flesh is the shape of a lightning bolt. [whispers] I swear.

But I am not dead. I am alive. I have Twizzlers Nibs, sand caked in my hair. I ring out the pillowcase, tie it like a snake around my arm. I am Cleopatra, and Wim Faros saved me.”

[sighs] [moved, excited tone] Oh my God. If you are just tuning in, well you’ve missed everything really. This is “It Makes a Sound” and I’m Deirdre Gardner, and oh my God, I just read for you a firsthand testimonial regarding a profound encounter with Rosemary Hills’ native genius Wim Faros. I mean… I wish you could see the goosebumps. I forgot about goosebumps in this moment? I mean, we must all be united by our raised human flesh. Isn’t it wonderful that goosebumps are a thing? What a phenomenon of the living! Maybe we’re making a world record right now with synchronized goosebumping!

[sighs] I still have them. Listeners, don’t you see? If the standalone history of Wim Faros is such a jolt to the soul, such an envigorating rush of creative replenishment, just imagin what you will feel when you listen to his music.

[talks very fast] Rosemary Hills, it’s happening, it’s happening! This is what we set out to do today. This is precisely how we ready ourselves for the music. This, this is how we center ourselves, and get in touch with inspiration, and make way for the sacred. We’re unpacking the attic! In fact, let’s create a new segment. It’s called “Unpacking the Attic”. Here’s the first assignment, we will journal. Um, find a piece of paper, find a notebook, find a napkin, I dunno whatever, find your favorite writing untensil – and take ten minutes to write about the last time you can remember having goosebumps like this. Not the creepy kind, but the awestruck kind. When were you so struck by awe that it changed the composition of your epidermis? Freerwite, take this opportunity to remember yourself. Ten minutes, go!

OK.. Oh god, where’s my pen? Where is my pen? Oh god. OK, actually, OK I realize this is not maybe the best thing to do during the show, so I will leave you to do this meaningful reflection on your own, and I will also. And I look forward to you joining me next time, Rosemary Hills, from this place of presence and alertness.

I’m Deirdre Gardner, your fellow townswoman, urging you to unlock your full potential, to appreciate beauty, and to relish in the things that make a sound. I think you’re doing great. This is my show, “It Makes a Sound”. It’s the only show in the world dedicated to the legendary Wim Faros. There is music, and I promise you, you will hear it. We will hear it, next time.

Oh hello I’m back, sorry! I almost forgot something very important because of all the goosebump excitement, but I have an update. I’ve been working on something. Guess what it is? What’s something everybody loves? Peace of mind? Clear consciences? Great literature? Not quite, it’s websites apparently and guess what, now I have one. I made it myself, so do something productive with your screen time and go to www.itmakesasound.rocks. There you wll be able to replay episodes of “It Makes a Sound”. I’ll work on that, I just um, think it’s like a tab. And, you also have access to important information about the artist Wim Faros, and where some day soon, you can listen to each newly discovered track from the Attic Tape as I release them.

And if you have any pertinent information about the artist that you’d like to share, or hey, if you’d like to submit your “Unpacking the Attic” assignment to me for extra credit. [chuckles] (--) teacher. And especially of course, if you or someone you know has access to a high quality cassette tape player, now you can use the “contact me” tab on the site, which I will add. That me being me, Deirdre Gardner. So off you go, til next time, goodbye!

[alarm sounds] Oh my god! [footsteps in stars]

Old Lady: Deirdre!

“It Makes a Sound” is written by Jacquelyn Landgraf, co-directed by Jacquelyn Landgraf and me, Anya Saffr. Sound design and mixing by Vincent Cacchione. Original music composed by Nate Weida. Deirdre’s music box song today was Dance Macabre by Camille Saint-Saën.

With Jacquelyn Landgraf as Deirdre and featuring Annie Golden as the other voice in the attic.

“It Makes a Sound” is a Night Vale Presents production. For more information on this show and other Night Vale podcasts, go to nightvalepresents.com. We hope you’ll rate and review “It Makes a Sound” on Apple podcasts, that you’ll follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. 

Please spread the word through the land to listen to the show, to consider goosebumps, and to remember Wim Faros.