Smoke in your eyes, you stared too long at a nicotine stain ceiling, a million stories told in the half light, Libertines pulling pints of whatever you are having yourself, the jukebox that played free forever, ,those looks that almost connected, Merlin slipped into the basement with a Queen and a black bin bag, The Pogues playing Misty, the dreams that may have never come true, nights rolling into someone else’s days, bloodstained shirts, philly blunt burns in your cheap suit, her trilby hats and his rubik cubes and Strummer playing the piano, the shadows that fell on misery, the hole in Daddy’s arm, Jim Carroll and the people who died, sometimes a great notion, the ghosts of all your smiles, the blood red roses, a prayer for mercy and Wilke Rodriguez and those wonderful shirts...
… and this could have been a dream but it wasn’t, it really wasn’t.
These words paint a picture of all these years running infamous London pub, The Boogaloo.
Being a servant to rock n roll, you keep late hours with colourful company and it can educate and shape a person’s view of the world. It can certainly shape a person’s view of music and for that matter, radio.
That is kind of how Boogaloo Radio came about.
We had served them late into the night and we saw the magic unfold before our eyes and we thought if we could only share this with the world.
So one thing led to another and we cleared out the old shed in the garden, we begged and borrowed some radio equipment, got an old radio desk and called up all our dream presenters who sometimes are still here from the night before.
So here it is, you are going to get the magic, the stories, the dreams, the characters, the chancers, the drinkers and the lovers and most of all the music, the beautiful music…
We play what we like. We don’t compromise. We believe in punks. We believe in soul. We believe in chaos and romance. Mozart, Tupac and Patsy Cline… and if you are listening, so should you.
‘Oh my God here we go again...’