What I Learned from My First Week on Air

Last week, I stepped into a role I’ve been circling my whole life, sitting across from my dad, microphone in front of me, ready to co-host his radio show.

It wasn’t just talking into the mic; it was building a soundscape together, weaving our histories into a playlist that said more about us than we could in words alone.

Here’s what I learned.

Every Song is a Story

We opened with "No Stranger" by Chestnut Grove — A small indie band from Philly, warm, soulful, and just laid-back enough to feel like the right handshake for our listeners. It wasn’t a flashy start, but it had that lived-in quality that makes you lean in. 

Then came "Social Cues" by Cage the Elephant. For me, this one’s personal, it’s not just one of my favorite Cage tracks, it’s the one I always come back to when I want to remember why I love them. It’s sly, cool, and strangely comforting in its offbeat way.

Connections That Travel Through Time

"Sure Don’t Miss You" by The Dip is a song I first heard years ago from an old friend. Playing it now felt like sneaking a part of my younger self into the show, a quiet nod to where I’ve been.

For "Oh-Oh, Love Comes to Town" by Talking Heads, my dad had this itch, he could hear the opening riff in his head but couldn’t place it. He went searching through every Talking Heads album until he found it: the first track on their very first record. That sense of discovery? It’s why he still loves doing this after decades.

Shared Discoveries Become Our Soundtrack

"Little Black Sandals" by Sia takes me right back to a rainy drive home from New Jersey many years ago. We stopped in a coffee shop, and saw Sia’s Some People Have Real Problems album for sale by the register. We bought it and listened to the CD ever since. This song is still our favorite from that album, a reminder that the best finds are sometimes accidental.

Then there was "Cool Kids" by Echosmith. This song was my middle school years. Sharing it with my dad on air and watching him nod along felt like my past meeting his open mind in real time.

The "Kids" Theme

We leaned into a little “kids” nostalgia:

• "Kids" by MGMT, a personal all-time favorite with its euphoric synths, always makes me think of early independence and long summer afternoons.

• "The Kids Are Alright" by The Who — dad’s pick, and the perfect rock counterpoint, reminding everyone that generational anthems never really age.

The Family Effect

My sister jumped in with "505" by Arctic Monkeys — haunting, intimate, and perfectly moody and "Word on a Wing" by David Bowie, from his Station to Station album. She’s been a Bowie devotee for as long as I can remember, and this was her way of adding her fingerprint to the show.

Songs That Are Simply Ours

I chose "Back to the Old House" by The Smiths for its aching beauty. Some songs are best appreciated in stillness, and this was one of them.

"Pyro" by Kings of Leon is technically an old track, but to me, it’s a “song of the summer” every summer. Smoky, cool, and timeless.

"The World at Large" by Modest Mouse took me back to a college concert where the band’s energy made me love them for life.

Dad countered with "Inland Ocean" by Matt Berninger — rich and hypnotic — and "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" by Arcade Fire, which lifted the mood and kept the pace moving.

I brought "Talk It Out" by Matt Corby and Tash Sultana because I’ve always admired Tash’s textured, atmospheric style. It’s calming and intricate, the kind of song that changes the room without you realizing.

"Seventeen" by Sharon Van Etten was raw and resonant, grounding the playlist in something deeply human.

"Edge of Midnight" by Stevie Nicks and Miley Cyrus was proof of Miley’s rockstar status. In my opinion it's the grit, the control, and the joy in her delivery.

"Cheapskates" by The Clash closed things out with a bang. This was my Clash moment, the song that opened my eyes to the genius of their catalog.

What I Learned

Putting this setlist together with my dad wasn’t just programming music, it was mapping our memories. Each track was a story, a moment in time, a piece of one of us.

And that’s the thing about radio: you might think you’re just playing songs for strangers, but really, you’re handing them parts of your life and trusting them to listen.

That’s a lesson I’ll carry into every show from here on out.