Finding Emilie
So I’m hiking in the mountains and it’s long past midnight, since I got hung up downloading the entire Doobie Brothers catalog after hearing a song on Slacker, and I’m listening to Radiolab thinking about virality, how it’s no longer about highfalutin’ gatekeepers telling us what to listen to but a bunch of sneezers, regular folks, passing the word and I hear a story…
Virality is a fascinating concept. That’s the goal today. To make something so good a listener or a reader or a viewer will tell somebody else about it. Don’t think about whether radio likes it, whether it’s well-executed, well-done, but whether someone will experience it and NEED to tell someone else about it.
I need to tell you about this Radiolab episode.
It wasn’t new. From back in January. That’s another thing the old guard doesn’t realize. It’s no longer about a marketing campaign for one project. It’s about constantly leaving crumbs, for years, so that when someone uncovers one and eats it and likes it there’s a zillion more to consume. You go on this satisfying journey, deeper and deeper. And you get frustrated if there are no more crumbs. There are no more Rebecca Black tracks, "Friday" was enough. Have we had enough Lady GaGa? We’ll find out. But it’s acts that have been honing their chops for years, with a plethora of material, maybe undiscovered heretofore, who are going to triumph tomorrow. Assuming their music is good enough that someone needs to tell somebody else about it.
So they’re talking about this woman who gets turned around 90 degrees. Turns out it’s a rare problem with the hippocampus, even though she believed for decades what her mother told her, that she was a witch.
And there was another story that was a bit less satisfying.
And then…pay dirt.
Yes, after the advertisements for Valentine’s Day flowers, after the constant repetition of Foundation sponsors, rich people with guilt who leave their money so others can do good work, undoing the bad they foisted upon society, I hear a story…
I can’t see a damn thing. I’ve got a flashlight, but the fog is so dense I’m wondering if I’m lost. It’s just me and the elements. And the story doesn’t sound that interesting in the advent.
But then…
You see his girlfriend was riding her bike and had an accident…
And she’s in Bellevue and he calls her parents, who don’t really like him, and tells them they’ve got to come from New Orleans immediately. Their daughter is not dead yet, but…
And her life has been so hard to begin with. She lost her hearing, she wears hearing aids and now she’s lost her sight.
That’s what her parents think, she’s blind.
But the doctors believe she’s a vegetable. Moving her body, but with no brain activity.
They’re gonna donate her organs, but then she moves enough they’re gonna put her in a nursing home and then…
The boyfriend reads up on Helen Keller on the Web. And he decides to write questions on his girlfriend’s arm. And in the middle of the night, Emilie answers them.
He records the exchange on his cell phone. They play it on the show. And it’s not like television, a triumph against incredible odds back to perfection. Not all stories on Radiolab end with answers, not all loose ends are tied up perfectly.
She is blind.
And she kicks and fights so much that they can’t insert her hearing aids.
But the boyfriend writes it out on her arm, asks her if they can put the hearing aids in.
And they do.
And she speaks…
She’s back…
I’m not doing this justice. You’ve got to hear it yourself.
This is not a matter of taste. Not hip-hop versus rock. This is about humanity. Everyone gets it.
