Adorned in a speckled red, white, and black scarf twisted around his neck, John Aielli steps out of the chilly morning air and strolls through the lobby of UT’s Belo Center for New Media. Adjusting the colorful neckwear beneath his coat—his scarves have become something of a trademark—he strolls into his home at KUTX’s studios. His fingers seemingly act of their own volition, as they effortlessly nudge a progression of buttons on his audio console. Within seconds, he’s live on the air, his smooth, modulated voice wafting out to listeners on their morning commutes.

After he runs through the day’s weather and events (“It’s national chili day, everyone!”), he delivers a series of non-sequiturs, each quirkier and more spirited than the last. With an impish little smile on his face, he then plays a diverse lineup of tracks ranging from Les Miserables’ “One Day More” to “Colors” by rising local superstars, the Black Pumas—a true encapsulation of his show, “Eklektikos,” which he’s helmed since it went live 50 years ago. Aielli has now been on the air for nearly 60 years, 54 of those with KUTX, but becoming a full-time radio man was never part of his plan.

After landing a piano scholarship at UT, the Killeen, Texas, native raised funds for his college room and board in Austin by working at his hometown radio station, KLEN, AM 1050. Before long, he was spending close to 90 hours a week in the deejay booth, hosting everything from the station’s gospel programming to country-Western spotlights. “I had to put on different voices for each show to slip into varying personas for the listeners,” he says. “I really got a chance to lean into my Texas drawl for that country program.”

Despite the meager pay (“I was really making the big bucks at first—30 cents an hour,” he laughs), it proved to be invaluable experience. Upon arriving in Austin in 1966, KUT (the local National Public Radio affiliate) asked him to come on as a part-time announcer between classical pieces, a fateful move that put him on the path to becoming the unofficial voice of Austin airwaves.

During those early years, Aielli says his bookish segments were modeled after the BBC, giving them a dry, rigid feel. But after 1970, when his slot officially became “Eklektikos” (inspired by the Greek word eklektos, which means “chosen from the best”), its format transformed and Aielli developed his own peculiar style, in which wry observations were scattered haphazardly between a broad array of music—classical followed by pop followed by funk. Interviews with media giants like Terry Gross (“Fresh Air”) often act as segues into St. Patrick’s Day-themed ballads or a reflections on the repeal of Prohibition. “I’m just an intermediary who loves conversing, who loves to inform with interviews and commentary about the little things going on around town,” he says. “Most people like that, I think. They just want to be talked to by someone who’s just, well, a person.”

Aielli’s enduring presence and endless witticisms have made him a cherished figure among Austinites of all ages. Though his segments have been shortened to two hours (they used to run for six), and he rarely ventures out for late-night concerts anymore, his cultural stature continues to grow. In 2017, KUTX organized a concert headlined by the likes of Hayes Carll and Shinyribs to celebrate his 50th anniversary at the station. There’s also the aptly named Twitter page, “ShitJohnAielliSays,” which curates his most quote-worthy on-air comments, including gems like It’s 7:36 and you are where you are and I’d hate to say it, but I have a very close friend who loves to let his dandelions grow. I’m horrified just thinking about it.

Though the city Aielli speaks to has changed dramatically since he first went on air, the 73-year-old doesn’t plan on retiring or stepping back anytime soon. As long as he can get out of bed and people continue to listen, he says, he’ll continue to entertain. “When you’re in the control room at 7 a.m., it’s just you and a piece of metal and some knobs,” he says. “It’s a strange experience. You have to just hope there are people on the other side of the microphone listening somewhere.”