If I asked most people “Have you ever heard of The Rosenbergs?” the honest answer would be a blank stare and a polite “Uh… no.” That’s not an insult. That’s the whole damn point.

David Fagin, the band’s lead singer, just published *Confessions of a Musical Masochist*, and it is the perfect autopsy of a career that came this close a hundred times and still somehow never quite made the leap. Near-hits. Spectacular near-misses. The kind of stories that make you laugh until you wince.

I actually knew these guys. Heard them. Met them. Crossed paths enough times that reading the teaser felt like someone had stolen pages out of my own notebook. Opening for Duran Duran one minute, playing in a Duran Duran tribute band at a Duran Duran after-party the next. Sitting in Howard Stern’s green room for two hours while Gene Simmons just… sat there, until somebody finally decided that maybe that was a problem. Driving Echo & the Bunnymen around (something Fagin and I both did, in different parts of the same tour). The almosts pile up until they become the story itself.

Fagin doesn’t sugarcoat it. This is a cautionary tale dressed up as comedy. The music business will chew you up, spit you out, and then ask if you’d like to open for the tribute band version of yourself. I’ve heard the same warning from people inside U2’s orbit. Hell, I’ve given the warning myself. And still none of us stay away.

Talent, it turns out, is not the secret. If it were, half the bands you’ve never heard of would be headlining stadiums and half the ones you have heard of would be working day jobs. Whatever the actual secret is, Fagin doesn’t claim to have found it. He just shows you, in brutal, funny detail, how many different ways there are to miss it.

*Confessions of a Musical Masochist* is required reading for anyone who still thinks the music industry is a meritocracy. It’s also weirdly respectful of the people who keep throwing themselves at that wall anyway. Because some of us just can’t help it.

Even when we know better.

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This program may contain copyrighted material which has not always been authorized by the copyright owners. We use this material of the artists we feature for interviews. This is done to promote these artists, and thus we believe that this constitutes "Fair Use" of copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US copyright Law. There is NO copyright infringement intended.

Alright, listen up.

Ana Sky was minding her own business in a biology lab — California girl with a little Deutschland in the blood — when somebody played a tape of her singing. She didn’t even know the damn thing had been recorded. Twenty-four hours later she’s standing in a real studio, microphones hot, career officially off the rails in the best possible way.

Her new EP *Prologue* is the proof. It’s got that deep, lived-in storytelling, the kind of lyrics that stick under your skin. We talked about the dark places she had to walk through to write this stuff, the kind of personal hell that either breaks you or turns into songs worth hearing. We talked books — *Alice in Wonderland*, *Dune* — and the fact that she’s a genuine Lou Reed / Velvet Underground devotee. And yes, we got into the classic car she got to light on fire for a video, because of course she did.

This is the interview. Hit play.

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Jonny Couch spent most of his career behind the kit, keeping time for other people’s songs. Then he decided the view from the back was no longer enough. He reinvented himself, stepped to the front, and started singing his own material with the kind of restless energy that only comes from someone who’s waited long enough.

The sound he landed on is pure sugar-rush 1980s: new wave snap meeting big, grinning rock hooks — Cheap Trick’s swagger tangled up with The Cars’ cool precision. It’s the kind of music that still feels like Friday night even when the calendar says otherwise.

He’s already shared stages with Josie Cotton and The Plimsouls. He came within a breath of opening for Modern English, which would have given him the full *Valley Girl* soundtrack trifecta. Instead he kept writing, kept playing, and kept showing up.

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We talked songwriting, the long road from drummer to frontman, the records that shaped him, and the particular madness of hovering over ticket prices at the last possible minute for a band still trying to hold onto world-class status. Through it all runs the new album, *Where The Sidewalk Ends*. One full listen is enough to wake up the part of you that still remembers when this stuff felt urgent, fun, and a little bit dangerous.

Jonny Couch isn’t chasing the past. He’s dragging the best of it into the present and making it sing.

This program may contain copyrighted material which has not always been authorized by the copyright owners. We use this material of the artists we feature for interviews. This is done to promote these artists, and thus we believe that this constitutes "Fair Use" of copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US copyright Law. There is NO copyright infringement intended.