Between songs, though, when the bands would name-check either Dundas or KYRS, I noticed something. There was a small, vocal contingent of people up front -- other DJs, musicians, a few Lilac City rollergirls, perhaps 40 people in all -- who'd shout themselves hoarse. Everyone else, clustered at the back, looking exactly like the Blvd.'s normal Friday night crowd, didn't even look up. None of these people -- despite paying the cover that would benefit the station -- seemed to know KYRS existed.
That's not exactly surprising. Even at its own benefit show, KYRS was keeping a very low profile. Apart from a small KYRS merch/information table tucked into the no-man's-land behind the bouncer upfront, there was nothing suggesting this show was different than any other Blvd. rock show. Not a sign, not a banner, nothing.
That's to take nothing away from Dundas, KYRS Outreach Coordinator Sarah Tinkle or any of the other un- and underpaid people who make KYRS function. The show was regarded as a huge success by the small, fiercely loyal contingent of listeners who showed up to rock for the cause. Something as simple as flying the KYRS flag, though, would have gone a long way to making another 160-ish sets of ears aware of the station's existence. In a business where listeners equal survival, that's never a bad