By Steve Brennan
By Ashley Zimmerman
By Michele Eve Sandberg
By Abel Folgar
By Ashley Zimmerman
By New Times Staff
By Abel Folgar
By Laurie Charles
South Florida has long been a hub of pirate-radio activity. Thanks to mercilously flat terrain, miles and miles of nondescript subdivisions and warehouses, and a large Caribbean population used to getting its news on-air, Broward and Dade counties are home to as many as 20 illegal stations at any given time, according to the Tallahassee-based Florida Association of Broadcasters.
Last week, South Florida made national news when programming from Da Streetz 107.1 FMbegan interfering with two frequencies used by air traffic controllers at MIA. A crack squad of FCC, FAA, and local law enforcement authorities traced the signal to a small Opa-locka warehouse and confiscated a slew of gear, including an antenna, books of CDs, computers, and a mixing board, but no arrests were made, and the station's transmitter was never located (broadcasting without an FCC license is a federal offense). Da Streetz is still on the air, broadcasting hip-hop and Creole music to a small but dedicated listenership as well as a few pilots in private jets. Thankfully, there haven't been any accidents yet. But Outtakes picked up a few unsettling exchanges while scanning the dial:
March 6, 10:44 p.m."...Be advised of heavy rain and slick conditions on... That pole, and I'm N luv with a stripper, she trippin', she playin', I'm not goin' nowhere girl, I'm...careful as you touch down here. Wait, did we just land a flying strip club?"
March 11, 9:07 p.m. "Roger that, Bravo-Tango-Niner-Niner. Follow vector 44-29-oh-8 and you're ready for... Laffy taffy, shake that laffy! Shake that laffy taffy! That laffy taffy... But watch your speed."
March 13, 9:24 p.m. "This is Jamaica Air flight four-two-oh requesting clearance for... the trees and we'll smoke it yo. It don't make me please so don't provoke it yo/We don't need no speed so we gonna coke it yo/Set we mind at ease we got to take it slow... once we land in Montego Bay. "
March 14, 1:58 a.m."Lean wit it, rock wit it!/Lean wit it, rock wit it!/Lean wit it, rock wit it!/Lean wit it, rock...With nothing more than a single taillight and two landing gear. Amazing we brought them in, but we... Lean wit it, rock wit it!"
March 19, 12:35 a.m."This is Captain Unger calling the tower. Be advised that... I gotta say high-i-i-i-i, until I die-i-i-i-i! I gotta say high-i-i-i-i, until I die-i-i-i-i... Uh, did you copy that, Control?"
"Roger, Captain. Maintain your altitude and you'll be fine. We just want to get you on the ground safely." Jonathan ZwickelScott Stapp, former lead singer of post-grunge embarrassment Creed, is music's most hated man. That's not harsh: Stapp would admit it himself (given he was drunk enough). It's a Cape of Suck he's ever-conscious of wearing. And perhaps it's because of this fact that he's become rather adept at the art of saying nothing during interviews. But let's back up, shall we?
A few weeks ago, Outtakes sat in on a teleconference with the Percocet-popping Jesus freak and six other suffering "journos," who, like us, had pulled the short straw. Stapp knows he's not a media favorite; in fact, he made several allusions to the fact, even saying, "Hey, you know what? I love every single one of you, and I'll pray for all of you guys tonight whether you don't like me or not" before bidding us adieu. Couple this with a feature in the December issue of Rolling Stone that painted Stapp as a depressed, fall-about drunk who single-handedly isolated the other members of Creed to the point that they were more than eager to jump off a multimillion-dollar juggernaut, and something surprising happened. Outtakes actually began to feel bad for the guy. After all, he istrying even traveling with a sobriety coach on tour, for Christ's sake!
So we're taking it easy on the guy. For instance, you won't see us mention Stapp's February 11 arrest at LAX for public intoxication; his drunken romp on Spike TV's Casino Cinemain which he groped model Beth Ostrosky on-air; his November brawl with 311 in a Baltimore bar; the recently released sex tape that features him staring into the camera and smirking "It's good to be king" while his pole is gleamed by a dirty tramp; his messiah-complex lyrics; his obnoxious, arms-wide-open, foot-propped-on-a-monitor stage presence; or even the fact that during the interview, he actually said, "At the end of the day, I'm still just trying to make it through that great divide, brother." No. All that stuff is off-base, as far as we're concerned.
Instead, we'll get to the heart of the matter and publicize what Stapp really wants people to know: His love of coaching his son's various sports teams. The love he feels for his new wife. What songs he and his new band will play on their current Australian tour. The various charities he's personally funded for victims of Katrina. Stapp's undying commitment to... what's that? We're out of space? Damn.
Maybe next time, choad. Brian McManusHow does one go from being an enthusiastic proponent of inverted crosses, pentagrams, Necronomicon-inspired invocations of Sumerian demons, and blood-soaked onstage self-mutilation to... Deepak Chopra?? That's exactly what Outtakes tried to find out when we sat down with guitarist Trey Azagthoth, leader of exalted death-metal pioneers Morbid Angel. These days, rather than Satan, Azagthoth favors Ayurvedic healing, motivational guru Tony Robbins, the Course in Miracles, and kabbalah as primary inspiration.