The dusty downbeat raised his head and a voice like molasses groaned. "Dude, I ain't got no battery, I ain't got no charge and the spark ain't working so my ears ain't hearing and my toes ain't tapping". The surgeon of sounds whispered "Man, you need some tunes in your head and a beat in your bones. Speak to the angel with the harp at the bar". "Huh", the lost soul growled "what kind of medicine he peddling coz that needs to be some voodoo on offer?"

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"Well the big guy says "It's like liquourice allsorts", "Na" says the too loud one who'd  lost his suit, "I reckon pic'n mix". "Nope " says the smooth dude with the patio, "I'd go dolly mixtures". The one with his head closest to the sun, slides out of his seat and face down in his beer groans "I just want more bass" . "Well all I know boys" says the only one with a clue "is that these guys have seen it all and these guys have done it  all and these guys came back with a mixed up sound that will put a pep in your step and a smile on the sole of your shoes and it is the goodest thing to ever tickle your ears so come with me and tune in to radio KONRAD.

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And if you listen closely readers and listeners, from somewhere across space and time you can a hear a million dusty downbeats who ain't down no more 'n whose toes don't stop tapping 'n whose grins won't stop grinning.

You too should take the Konrad medicine. No prescription needed!