Skip to main content

Malcolm Laycock (from BBC) replies!

I was in for a very pleasant surprise this morning when Malcolm Laycock personally replied to a mail I had posted to BBC 2. I remember listening to him on countless weekdays during my formative years. The memories are still so fresh. What made those occasions extra special was the presence of yet another Jazz enthusiast right next to me - Dad! We were in a trance-like state after Laycock's 30-minute program.

 

Here's the reply:

 

Deepanjan


Hi! Your message passed on to me by Radio 2.


Goodness me! I'm delighted to hear from someone who listened to my 
jazz shows all those years ago on BBC World Service!


Now, my memory is not brilliant because I've done so many different 
shows on many radio stations over the years, but I seem to think that 
the signature tune we used for "Jazz For The Asking" was "Birdland" 
by Weather Report. Great track......!


Anyway, I trust that life is treating you well.


With all good wishes


Malcolm Laycock
BBC Radio 2

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still