THE PLAYLIST
When I finished the first draft of Kitty and the Midnight Hour, I burned a CD of some of the music I listened to while writing it. Here's that impromptu sound track:
Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Bad Moon Rising"
Concrete Blonde, "Bloodletting"
Siouxsie and the Banshees, "Peek-a-Boo"
No Doubt, "Just a Girl"
Garbage, "When I Grow Up"
David Bowie, "Let's Dance"
They Might Be Giants, "Man, It's So Loud In Here"
Oingo Boingo, "Skin"
Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Long as I Can See the Light"
The Sisters of Mercy, "Lucretia My Reflection"
Rasputina, "Olde Headboard"
Depeche Mode, "Halo"
The Canadian Brass, Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze"
The Clash, "Train in Vain"
Peter Murphy, "I'll Fall With Your Knife"
Chapter 1
I tossed my backpack in a corner of the studio and high-fived Rodney on his way out.
"Hey, Kitty, thanks again for taking the midnight shift," he said. He'd started playing some third-generation grunge band that made my hackles rise, but I smiled anyway.
"Happy to."
"I noticed. You didn't used to like the late shift."
He was right. I'd gone positively nocturnal the last few months. I shrugged. "Things change."
"Well, take it easy."
Finally, I had the place to myself. I dimmed the lights so the control board glowed, the dials and switches futuristic and sinister. I pulled my blond hair into a ponytail. I was wearing jeans and an oversized sweatshirt that had been through the wash too many times. One of the nice things about the late shift at a radio station was that I didn't have to look good for anybody.
I put on the headphones and sat back in the chair with its squeaky wheels and torn upholstery. As soon as I could, I put on my music. Bauhaus straight into the Pogues. That'd wake 'em up. To be a DJ was to be God. I controlled the airwaves. To be a DJ at an alternative public radio station? That was being God with a mission. It was thinking you were the first person to discover The Clash and you had to spread the word.