Leo became obsessed. He recorded the broadcasts on crackly cassette tapes. The station had no call letters, no commercial breaks, just Casey’s voice and the music: deep album cuts, lost 45s, and one time—a full seventeen-minute synth instrumental that Casey claimed was “the sound of a mainframe computer falling in love.”
“Leo. Yes, I know you’re listening. You’ve got the tuner set to 1840. Don’t ever spin that dial, kid. Because the music you need… isn’t on any chart. It’s in the space between the stations. Keep listening. Keep believing. And keep your feet on the ground… but keep reaching for the stars.” Iheart Radio Station With Casey Kasem 1840 Fm
“1840 FM. You’re not dreaming. And you’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. You’re in the deep cut. This is Casey Kasem, and on today’s ‘Long-Distance Dedication,’ we’re going from the bayou to a boardroom in Tokyo. But first… the story of a song that almost wasn’t.” Leo became obsessed
“This is Casey Kasem, 1840 FM. And don’t forget… the frequency doesn’t die. It just waits for the next set of ears.” Yes, I know you’re listening
But on the last tape Leo ever made, just before the hiss swallowed it whole, you can hear Casey whisper one more thing: