Uncle T's warmth comes through clearly on the air. A contrast to the plastic friendliness of the top-forty stations ("ugly radio," T calls them), the genuine article is refreshing.

In person, his warmth is even more evident. He greets visitors to his show effusively. When he grins, his large mustache gives him a kind of goofy walrus look. As the show progresses, he twits about the studio, constantly worrying about how the show is going over.

T's monologues between the songs--raps, he calls them--reflect both his warmth and his tensions. He has the rare ability to babble a stream of consciousness which is meaningful to his audience. He is a Jean Shepard, with none of Shepard's cynicism.

The title of a song often sends him into his rap: "Yeeaaaaaah," he sighs at the end of one cut, twirling the reverb knob, "which was Manny Nichols. 'Throw me a little Boogie.' Just keep dancing. That was like the secret to a very peaceful life--dance!--not many people are dancing anymore... Oh yes, you'll say that people are: 'Look at this place, look at that place, look at all the people who are dancing.' But in comparison to the amount of people there are, forget it (reverb), not many people are dancing (electronic noises in background) and people are dancing a prescribed way. You know that kind of thing: you have to do it right or else you don't and you know you don't, it's like you're embarrassed when you get up on the bandstand to dance and someone will laugh at you because you're--You know the thing with dancing is the freedom. 'Throw a Little Boogie' wherever you go. Yeeaaah (reverb)."

Two minutes of rapping can lead him anywhere. He philosophizes, he confesses, he imitates commercials. But after a while he catches himself. "What?!?" he'll squeak, "What kind of rap is that for a freekie oldie show." And he's off into another song.

The intellectual content of Uncle T's monologues is often meager. His thoughts are not going to be passed on from generation to generation. But who cares? You don't want to listen to John Kenneth Galbraith rap between cuts of the Nashville Street Band playing "Baby Please Don't Go" and Richard Berry playing "Yamma Yamma Pretty Mamma."