Reel Love, The Film Soundtrack Show. Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Tarantino is a show with a really long title. It also is a show which is about film scores whether filled with pop or classical. Each week we'll be hearing some silver screen brilliance from a different theme to set you up for the week ahead. So get your popcorn, get your drink and settle down for the reel start to your week.
Myself and my co-host will be educating each other on various topics, each show is centered around a different letter of the alphabet and will feature topics and songs/artists beginning with that letter.
Have you had your weekly fix of gossip? Don't you threat Amy and Amelie are here to save your Tuseday with campus and celebrity gossip. (You'd be silly not tuning in!)
Sleep? Where we're going, we don't need sleep.
At the start of each show, my hastily-written computer code picks a random date from the 60s, 70s or 80, and I have to fill 58 minutes with music and news from that date. The URY record library gets a bit patchy if we go back to the 60s, so wish me luck!
William King is rounding off three years of student radio with 24 hours of non-stop broadcasting. Everyone's got that thing which keeps them awake at night, that image they can't get out of their head. In an exclusive for URY, William King reveals his secret obsession.
It's my birthday, listen to me on the radio!
University Radio York's flagship Sunday morning show. (for a small amount of time)
I played some quiet jazzy songs.
But I got bored of the idea when I realised that having the Sunday morning slot wasn't very impressive even if it was quite funny.
And also I was half awake.
Very nice life experience being forced to talk into a microphone in an empty room :)
I should probably listen back to these to make sure these audio clips don't cancel me but... for the most part, I trust that my that my younger self wouldn't get cancelled.
Feel free to listen back to these shows but I warn you- they're bad.
The double agent himself is back (They just can't get rid of me)! Coming to you live from the Liverpool Guild of Students in a studio kindly loaned out by Liverpool Guild Student Media. They're not on air right now but never let something so trival as technical difficulties™ get in the way of good radio and what better place to go than my old stomping gound at URY.
I recently hit 1010 songs on my liked songs. I'm going to clear it up a bit, so let's listen to some on the way.
Join me as I listen to "new" vinyl from our collection and I will decide whether to add it to my playlist or to return it to the vinyl vacuum.
A Sci-Fi murder mystery podcast set in a dystopian city where a lone robot seeks to solve a 100-year old cold case created by a thrid year University of York Theatre student Reginn Kolbeinsson
Listen in for the first 6 episodes over the next three weeks or listen to it now on Spotify or on the Red and Yellow podcast website: https://reginnk.wixsite.com/redonyellowpodcast
My latest favo(u)rites + why I love them
An anarchic voyage through the mysterious ramblings of Star-Struck Jack and the Mystery Cat.
Including a selection of fantastically originally games such as Try to Accurately Ascertain the Piece of Music Being Simulated with Dissonant Noises by a Human Being, Impartially In the News, and the G-Spot.
Expect: Norwegian banters, funny conspiracies, chit chat about life, Dictator fun facts, and last but not least: Epic movie music, and movie talks
May my voice be with you!
You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Lokir: Darn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me -- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there! [Lokir looks at the gagged man.] Lokir: And what's wrong with him? Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? Ralof: I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. Lokir: No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Lokir: Why do you care? Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead. [They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.] Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting! General Tullius: Good. Let's get this over with. Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me. Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe. [A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.] Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going? Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub. Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers. Torolf: Inside the house. Now. [The wagon stops near the chopping block.] Imperial Soldier: Whoa. Lokir: Why are they stopping? Ralof: Why do you think? End of the line. also a banging breakfast show.
It's my final day on URY and I just wanna play some vibey FIFA tunes. Hope you enjoy.
Join URY for the 88th Academy Awards Ceremony where we will be revealing all the winners of the most sought-after award of the season, as well as providing you with up-to-the-minute commentary of the show itself, and all the latest celeb gossip!
Join Will and Anna for more of those block rockin beats.
Tune in as I try not to cry; it's my last show on URY.
I am bored of writing my diss
The Lemon Press takes you through all the news we can make up