WFCC-FM
WFCC-FM is a 50,000 watt effective radiated power radio station licensed to Chatham, Massachusetts on Cape Cod, with studios and offices in Hyannis and transmitter facilities in Brewster. It broadcasts on 107.5 MHz with a classical format.
Current hosts on WFCC include Steve Murphy (mornings), Dave Read (midday), Don Spencer (afternoons), and Larry King (evenings).
History
The station started broadcasting on March 24, 1987 from state-of-the-art facilities on Route 28 in West Chatham. It was owned at the time by First Class Communications, run by Joseph A. Ryan and his family, who all worked at the station, including wife Pauline (receptionist), son Kevin (sales manager), and daughter Justine (sales). Joe Ryan, who worked at NBC as a writer for Today during Dave Garroway's tenure, then at WCVB-TV (channel 5) in Boston, hired WCVB personalities to be on his staff at WFCC, including newsman Jack Hynes, meteorologists Bob Copeland (a Chatham resident) and Bill Hovey, and sportscaster Bill O'Connell, complemented by local classical announcers Janice Gray, Dick Eressy, Paul Jimerson, Paul Nossiter, Steve Murphy, Don Lawrence, Pierre Paquin, Don Merna, and Dick O'Connor. The station played mostly classical music weekdays, with the afternoon drive show being big band, hosted by Lou Dumont. On the weekends, classical was complemented by the Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts and other syndicated classical shows, as well as local specialty shows Jazz on the Half-Shell and Folk Roots and Branches with Paul Jimerson, and a program devoted to classical piano, Klavier, produced by Jimerson and hosted by his wife, pianist and teacher Melinda Isaacson.
Podcasts:
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by Method Man
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by Raekwon
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by Rick Ross
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by Pastor Troy
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by Geto Boys
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by E-40
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by Gob
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by Slim Thug
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by David Banner
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by Lord Finesse
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by Raekwon The Chef
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by Louis Logic
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by Kill
Fuck Them
by: Method ManYo, yo, yo, yo
Fuck you
What you wanna be when you grow up
You wanna be thugs
You wanna be pranksters
You wanna sell drugs
You wanna be gangsters
Thats what silly boys are made of
Aiyyo, aiyyo
Cool G's and forty seven flavors
Display swade gators
We comin through
To blaze neighbors
Meet mark and pardon me to heat mark
A dutch spark it
Lex Leonardo arts profit
Apple cranberry mixed with crystal
Fan worry
Desert mountain crib in the ground
We arsonists
One point five a liter
Take a taste
Splash your heater
Smack your face twice
Clap your sneakers
Shit is like a mission to Mars
Fishin' for bars
Takin' whats ours
Knowledge the car Pa
Dont be stupid
Get a little cash
Better swoop it
Throw it in the ground and recoup it
Next check was best
Your family pack your shit
Get vexed
Leave a nigga standing in a bag of leaves
Some niggas catch on later
Try to put them on they haters
I met eighty of them niggas yo
Waitin' on the sidelines droolin'
Some need schoolin'
Let me teach yo
And roll a student what
Rule one
Yo respect if you lose son
Dont be big back about to learn to move dunn
All hell to niggas in jails
With sharks in they fishtanks
Now he come home he a whale
Wolves in the projo's, projo's yo
We realer up in my shows yo
Middle finger five O's
Take time to climb vines yo
Lay on the lines
Like Laury only lovin' Rae kind
Sun splash cash layin like three bags of hash
Fully wrapped in a indian man's stash
Aiyyo
Aiyyo, get up
Lex should be braggin'
Get it up
Fuck shorty got cream in a mean truck
Prop-ness she hollar like the Loch Ness
He large rock this
Fresh Ferrari in a drop six
Fro's
Yo talkin about the dough on his clothes
Glaze is crushed up pokin on rolls yo
Oh yeah and maybe gettin' cream
See what I mean black queen
Stop actin' like crack fiends an'
Brawl we wanna thank all of y'all
Play the wall hype
Checkin how this lady walks stay hawkin'
Grab the remain, divorce (Uh)
Shame came to yours
We like green
Rock the same gameplan, ours (Yo, Yo)
Ladies and gentlemen
Your about to see
A pastime hobby about to be
Takin' to the next degree
By M-E-TH and the bloody Chef Boyardee
Watch out bitches is too nosey
Backhand slappin' the phoney
Got to walk it off can't mosey
Who got you open up
Crack pipe still smokin'
Face frozen
Coke straw stickin' out your nose and D
Proposin' that you bleed on the Chef apron
My thing hold down the play-pen
And say the nursery rhymes they makin
Come on now
Shits too real
Fuck you and now your man feel
Time don't stand still for y'all bitches
Wanna Big Ball
I got two for you to juggle in your jizzals
Im losin' it now
Throw in the pieces like a jig-saw
Aiyyo
She multi-colored like a rainbow
Mr. Meth and the Cuban Link kiddo
On tracks we connect, politic ditto