BY THOMAS CONNER
© Tulsa World Before going on the air, Davit Souders mentions this band from Coffeyville that's been bugging him — in a good way. They're called Pheb:ate, they've got a fresh debut CD and for the last several weeks the band and its small legion of supporters from the Kansas border have been tying up the phone lines during Souders' late-night local music radio show, "Home Groan," begging him to play something from the new CD. "These crazy kids," Souders says, "they still want to get on the ol' radio." So the show starts — 11 p.m. sharp, as it does every Sunday night on KMYZ 104.5-FM — and pretty soon the phone lines are blinking again. This time, though, one of them is a cellular call. The producer patches it into the studio speakers. "Look out the window!" cries a jubilant young woman through the satellite static. We go to the window and eight floors down in the parking lot is a gaggle of young'uns, waving hysterically and brandishing an acoustic guitar. For the next half hour, the crowd grows, and the young woman on hold keeps begging to be allowed into the studio. At one point, things get a little loony, with the band's female fans so eager to show their support that they show, well, more of themselves than their mommas would have appreciated. It's one video camera away from becoming "Home Groan Girls Gone Wild." Souders — a true rock 'n' roll warrior, but a businessman who enjoys at least a modicum of control — eventually relents, and the band is ushered upstairs for a quick on-air chat and an impromptu performance in the studio. After the show, the whole group hangs outside and plays guitar, confident their assertiveness has scored them a major marketing triumph. "That's as pure as it gets in my book, right there," Souders says later that night. "I mean, Jim Halsey (local music entrepreneur) is always talking about the psychic payoff musicians get from things like this. Boom — there it is on those faces right there. Because when it comes down to it, it's not really about money and girls and sales figures, it's about getting played. It's about getting to feel like the work you've put into something means something, anything, to even one little radio host like me." In the nearly six years he's been hosting "Home Groan," a weekly show dedicated to Tulsa-area original music, Souders has been buttered up by bands hoping to score a spin on his show. They know when he's due on the air, and sometimes they lie in wait in that same parking lot outside the station, thrusting CDs in his hand and sometimes a pizza or two — learning early lessons of salesmanship the hard way. As America's — and Tulsa's — radio landscape becomes more vanilla, monochromatic and pre-recorded, "Home Groan" has survived as a refreshing oasis, largely due to madcap moments like this one. More importantly, though, is the influence the show has maintained — the impact radio airplay (even in the worst possible timeslot, late on a Sunday night) has on the evolutionary spark of a local and regional artistic scene. Why else would two or three dozen kids from Coffeyville drive an hour in the dark of night to harass an innocent DJ? Souders, of course, is more than a DJ. He's been formulating fiendish local concerts as Diabolical Productions for more than a decade, having worked hand-in-hand for several years at the Cain's Ballroom when Larry Shaeffer was there, and having owned and operated his own nightclub, Ikon, in three Tulsa locations. He's also a musician, once a member of a local band called Lynx and currently singing for a revolving forum of local players called D.D.S. He even makes his own kilts, but perhaps that's another story (best told by the accompanying photo). His radio career began in the eighth grade in the late '70s, when he was the voice of Tulsa Public Schools lunch menus on KAKC. For this duty — reading the advance warnings of tomorrow's institutional slop — he created an on-air personality called Dr. Psycho Fanatic. Everything you need to know about Souders (other than his obsessions with Elvis Presley and his idol, Alan Freed) likely is summed up in this fact: to this day, the Dr. Psycho Fanatic gig is still on his resume. From 1990 to 1994, Souders hosted the "Teknopolis" electronic music show, which bounced between three different local stations. In '96, he picked up the "Home Groan" gig, replacing its original host, Admiral Twin drummer-singer Jarrod Gollihare. He has certainly made the show his own. In particular, he has been instrumental in applying the show's brand to occasional "Home Groan" "low-dough" concerts featuring local bands as well as two "Home Groan" CD compilations. The former have been especially illustrative of the show's success. "We had a show at Cain's a couple of years ago where we had about 500 kids," Souders said. "Of course, I emcee a la Alan Freed, and you know I end all the radio shows with my little catchphrase: 'I'm not evil, I'm just Diabolical.' So I get up on stage at this show and say, 'I'm not evil, I'm just . . .' and the bulk of the crowd shouts, 'Diabolical!' I was blown away." Souders hopes to one day produce another CD compilation, probably of live performances from those low-dough shows, but the plans to reopen Ikon are in the deep freeze. Meanwhile, Diabolical continues bringing interesting shows to Tulsa. But Souders is clearly in his element behind the microphone, scratching his head underneath the trademark bandana and directing a new band into the public arena. Comments are closed.
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Thomas Conner
These online "clips" reproduce a self-selection of my journalism (music etc) during the last 20+ years. It's a lotta stuff, but it only scratches the surface. I do not currently possess the time or resources to digitize the whole body of work. These posts are simply a bunch of pretty great days at the office. Archives
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