When college let us go for Christmas, I'd come home and gorge on WHFS music. The listening that I did in those weeks determined the records that I would buy for the following four months at school. What I did write down became LOVE, for I did not have much money, so if I didn't love it, I didn't buy it. Via WHFS, I discovered the Bangles (in their Paisley Underground incarnation), Kirsty MacColl, Strawberry Switchblade, Marti Jones, Don Dixon, and the oh-so-fabulous Winter Hours.
The thing that ultimately killed listening to WHFS for me, and any similar station that followed, was the God-damn sex talk show that ran in the evening, every evening. This was my prime music time, and the damned sex show cut that listening time down to paltry.
WHFS saw other woes, of course, changing format and all that. Once the station moved to other formats, that didn't so much kill listening to them so much as shove the coffin in the grave and plop a tombstone on top.
If I had anything, I wish that I had a Christmas time tape from those era. I really want to know who I used to listen to. Sadly, I can't get that eclectic experience back again. Even those nice internet service station serve up themes, not ecclectism. "Hello, I want to check everything, by everyone. How do I do that?" That ought to be possible, if not trivial, but such is not a fate for us mortals.