Sound
Vibration Society is pure, unadulterated sonic sorcery. We like our music and ideas to transform the way you think about jazz and this mortal coil. So forget everything you think jazz is. It’s bigger than that.
We’ll have interviews, features, live music, bits, torrents, and whatever esoterica that we think you should experience. We also want you to help us in the process. Sharing good. Not sharing bad. You may eventually ask yourself, “What the hell does this have to do with jazz?” We don’t always know. We just think it’s interesting. If we get lucky and make a connection, we were planning it all along. That’s what we like to call “good radio.”
Vibration Society, however, is more than radio. It’s a space “where jazz lives,” and we don’t mean how jazz currently resides on most public radio stations, if it does at all. Vibration Society is humbucking that trend, because we believe that the music lives among the people. It’s why we love music from the old school, the new school, the borrowed school, the blue school. Jazz is never so old if you’re hearing it for the first time, or in a new way.
Vibration Society sounds like a harlem airshaft. What does that sound like, exactly?
Duke Ellington provides the best description:
You get the full essence of Harlem in an air shaft. You hear fights, you smell dinner, you hear people making love. You hear intimate gossip floating down. You hear the radio. An air shaft is one great big loudspeaker. You see your neighbor’s laundry. You hear the janitor’s dogs. The man upstairs’ aerial falls down and breaks your window. You smell coffee. . . . An air shaft has got every contrast. . . . You hear people praying, fighting, snoring. . . . I tried to put all that in my Harlem Air Shaft.
Music, action, and context, emanating from one big loudspeaker. Or your earbuds. Or that steel plate in your head that picks up radio frequencies. We’re here to tell you that it’s okay to embrace the world of vibrations around you. Even the noise. There’s beauty there.
Vibration Society also believes in the power of a good segue. We fancy ourselves as artists, and take pride in the production minutiae that most listeners never bother to notice. But it makes us feel good. So don’t ruin our joy. We prefer to toil in obscurity. Like jazz musicians.



