The Complete Lost Katherine St Basement Tapes

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It's 1974 and in a basement rec room a corner of the room has been converted into an FM low power underground pirate radio station broadcasting deeper cuts from both mainstream and obscure albums of the 1967-1974 era to an audience in the Fairmont, West Virginia area dominated by 2 top 40 AM stations.  

Some reel-to-reel recordings have recently been uncovered.  We have named them the Lost Katherine Street Basement Tapes.  We thread the tape on a reel-to-reel player today press play and then.........

SHOULD THE PLAYLIST STOP PRESS SHIFT+N TO ADVANCE OR REFRESH THE PAGE

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The Katherine Street Basement Tapes

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Our Manifesto It's 1974 and in a basement rec room a corner of the room has been converted into an FM low power underground pirate radio station broadcasting deeper cuts from both mainstream and obscure albums of the 1967-1974 era to an audience in the Fairmont, West Virginia area dominated by 2 top 40 AM stations.   Let's assume some reel-to-reel recordings have recently been uncovered.  We have named them the Katherine Street Basement Tapes.  We thread the tape on a reel-to-reel player today press play and then....................   Press PLAY below and discover what some say sounds eerily like that of a DJ from Santa Fe that disappeared into the desert in 1972.   Tbe Legend of The Man With No Name  The Illiad and Odyssey of Freeform FM    SHOULD THE PLAYLIST STOP PRESS SHIFT+N TO ADVANCE OR REFRESH THE PAGE
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The Last Radio Signal From Katherine Street

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The Last Radio Signal from Katherine Street Author’s Note (2025): This story was found in a box of old manuscripts at a Fairmont estate sale. Dated 1974, it was never published, but along with the recently discovered  The Katherine Street Basement Tapes  it tells a tale that feels too important to leave lost. The neon glow of Fairmont’s downtown was already fading in the rearview mirror as I turned onto a side street, engine humming low. The only sound, besides the rattling of my old Chevy’s dashboard, was the hiss of static from the FM dial. I was chasing a ghost—an outlaw of the airwaves. Somewhere in this town, buried beneath brick and mortar, was a voice that had once shaped my nights. The Man with No Name. He vanished from the high desert airwaves in ‘72, leaving behind nothing but rumors and a trail of static. Some said he walked off into the desert. Some claimed he’d been shut down, silenced. But a guy in a dorm room at WVU swore he’d heard that same voice on a low-powe...
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