The Oscar Treadwell Radio Show Closing Song: Why "Oska T" Still Matters

The Oscar Treadwell Radio Show Closing Song: Why "Oska T" Still Matters

Most radio hosts are lucky if they get a polite "goodnight" from their audience. Oscar Treadwell was different. He didn't just play records; he lived inside the music. If you grew up in Cincinnati or tuned into the jazz airwaves across the Midwest and North Carolina over the last fifty years, you knew the voice. It was sandpaper and velvet. It was "OT."

But it’s the way he left us every night that sticks in the memory. The oscar treadwell radio show closing song wasn't just some random filler track. It was a literal gift from one of the high priests of bebop.

When those jagged, rhythmic piano chords started to climb, you knew the journey was ending. The song is "Oska T." It was written by Thelonious Monk. Specifically for Oscar. Honestly, how many people can say a Pulitzer Prize-winning jazz legend composed their sign-off theme?

The Story Behind "Oska T"

In 1955, Thelonious Monk sent a package to Treadwell. Inside was a composition titled "Oska T." It wasn't just a tribute; it was a functional tool for a man Monk respected. Monk knew Treadwell was a "jazz missionary," a guy who would play the difficult stuff—the stuff other DJs were too scared to touch.

The song itself is classic Monk. It's 19 bars of quirky, percussive brilliance. It’s got that signature "wrong-but-right" feel that makes you tilt your head. Treadwell used it to close his shows for decades, most notably during his long runs on WGUC and WVXU in Cincinnati.

It’s kind of a flex, if you think about it. Most DJs have a jingle. OT had a Monk original.

📖 Related: Dragon Ball All Series: Why We Are Still Obsessed Forty Years Later

More Than One Tribute

You’ve got to understand that Treadwell was a bit of a muse for the giants of the genre. While "Oska T" is the famous oscar treadwell radio show closing song, it wasn't the only track dedicated to him.

The jazz world is tight-knit. Or at least it was back then. Treadwell (born Arthur Pedersen) started out as an industrial manager, but his obsession with the "new music" of the 1940s made him a legend.

  • Charlie Parker gave him "An Oscar for Treadwell" in 1949. This session featured Dizzy Gillespie and Buddy Rich. It's a high-speed bebop masterpiece.
  • Wardell Gray recorded "Treadin' with Treadwell" in 1950.
  • Horace Silver even penned "Blues for Oscar" much later.

Basically, if you were a jazz titan in the mid-20th century, you probably owed Oscar a favor for playing your records when the mainstream wouldn't. He was the bridge between the booth and the stage.

Why the Closing Song Felt Different

There was a ritual to it. Treadwell didn't just play the song and walk away. He would often weave poetry into the music. He’d read Kenneth Patchen or Lawrence Ferlinghetti over those Monk chords.

It was atmospheric. It was "The Eclectic Stop Sign."

👉 See also: Down On Me: Why This Janis Joplin Classic Still Hits So Hard

The music would swell, Oscar would offer a final, gravelly thought, and then "Oska T" would carry you into the midnight silence. It felt like a secret club. Even after he passed in 2006, the local stations kept the tapes rolling. For years, you could still hear those shows on Sunday nights, preserved like a time capsule.

The Technical Side of the Tune

If you’re a music nerd, "Oska T" is fascinating because of its structure. It’s not your standard 12-bar blues. It’s got these chromatic shifts that feel like climbing a spiral staircase that’s slightly off-center.

Monk’s version uses an F pedal in the A section. It rises, it falls, it confuses, and then it resolves. It perfectly mirrored Treadwell’s broadcasting style—intelligent, slightly eccentric, and deeply soulful.

How to Find the Music Now

If you’re looking for that specific oscar treadwell radio show closing song vibe, you can find "Oska T" on several Monk collections. The most famous recording is from the 1957 septet sessions (often found on Monk's Music or various Riverside compilations).

But hearing it as a standalone track is different from hearing it at 10:58 PM on a rainy Sunday in Cincinnati with Oscar’s voice layered on top. That’s a ghost you can’t quite catch on Spotify.

✨ Don't miss: Doomsday Castle TV Show: Why Brent Sr. and His Kids Actually Built That Fortress

The Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County actually holds a massive archive of Treadwell's shows. They have hundreds of hours of his broadcasts. If you want the real experience, you go to the source.

What This Means for Jazz History

Treadwell’s choice of a closing song wasn't just about branding. It was about validation. In a time when jazz was being pushed to the fringes by rock and roll, having a direct line to Monk and Bird meant everything.

He treated the music with a "high art" seriousness that was rare for radio. He didn't talk down to people. He invited them in.

And when "Oska T" started playing, it was the final handshake of the night. It was a reminder that even though the show was over, the "great adventure," as he often called it, was just beginning.

Actionable Next Steps for Jazz Fans

If you want to dive deeper into the world of OT, here is how you can actually experience it today:

  1. Listen to "An Oscar for Treadwell": Find the 1950 Mercury recording. It’s a 78 RPM classic that shows the energy Oscar brought out in his friends.
  2. Visit the Cincinnati Public Library Archive: Search their "Oscar Treadwell Collection." You can find digitized playlists and even some audio clips that feature the poetry-over-music style he pioneered.
  3. Spin "Oska T" by Thelonious Monk: Pay attention to the 19-bar phrasing. Try to imagine a radio host speaking over the pauses. It changes how you hear the rhythm.
  4. Support Local Jazz Radio: Stations like WVXU and WGUC still carry the torch. Check their Sunday night schedules for any remaining tribute programming or similar deep-dive jazz shows.

The era of the "curator DJ" might be fading, but the music Oscar Treadwell championed—and the song that saw him off every night—isn't going anywhere. It’s baked into the DNA of the city. It's "Oska T." It's the sound of a light going out in a studio, but staying on in your head.