Growing up in Britain, I can’t say I grew up being a great fan of radio. It was usually on in the car or as background noise around the house but for my parents the channel of choice was BBC Radio 2. Middle-of-the-road standards, music for dead people. Top 20 pop music, was played on BBC Radio 1, in those days only available on the AM dial and with a signal so weak that living as I did surrounded by hills reaching the dizzying heights of 2,000 feet and more, it was rare we were able to tune in at all.
The real action took place on the pirate stations, Radio Luxembourg which did not, as most of us believed; come from the country of Luxembourg, but from somewhere in London and the pirate station Radio Caroline, which broadcast from a ship anchored in the North Sea. Or at least it did until a storm sank it sometime in the mid-seventies. Radio listening for me meant huddling under the blankets with a tiny transistor radio pressed to my ear trying to identify the tune being played.
By the time I left Britain in the early ‘90s, things had progressed considerably. BBC Radio 1 could now be found on the FM dial, with a much clearer signal and commercial stations were making inroads into markets outside the major cities. The problem was I’d long outgrown pop music by this time and for people under 50, there was little else to be had. True, the AM dial still had a large number of stations but with Britain being situated on the edge of Europe, the reception was a crazed mass of interference from multiple countries. It’s still a mystery how foreign radio stations located hundreds of miles away could deliver a clearer signal than the British ones on my doorstep.
So when I moved to the US, one of the many things I heartily embraced was the wealth of radio stations delivering crystal clear signals and every genre of music imaginable. Blues, classic rock, oldies, even country and western for the weirdoes; whatever your mood, you could find a station which would match it. Dear Wife was always puzzled by my enthusiasm as she didn’t think the radio was anything special but then I assumed, that was because she’d grown up in Los Angeles and had perhaps been somewhat spoilt. It wasn’t until my motor cycle died and I began commuting in a car and thus spent a lot more of my day listening to the radio that I began to see what she meant. Now, after more than ten years as a US resident, my opinion of radio has degenerated into what can only be called contempt.
The blame for this can be laid largely at the feet of two corporate entities; Clear Channel and Westwood One as well as the corrupt politicians who relaxed the laws limiting the number of stations one company could own in any given market. In the name of “freedom of choice for the consumer”, this pair have been allowed to gobble up some 80% of the radio stations in America which would be bad enough if it weren’t for the fact that they’re determined to turn the entire country in a homogenized desert of unimaginative blandness. There was a time when a road trip across America would reveal a wealth of musical styles and tastes as one traversed the country. No more. Now the radio dial has the same offering whether you’re in the Appalachians or Albuquerque; Wyoming or Washington DC.
Where the disc jockey was once the arbiter of taste; playing the music he or she wanted to hear, opinion polls tell today’s radio stations what to broadcast. The established, the predictable, the safe will always find a home on today’s radio, but young bands, new artists or anyone yet to fill their wall with gold records finds it almost impossible to gain a foothold. Yet the problem isn’t just that the stations keep their offerings to a limited number of artists, but that they play them endlessly, hour after hour, day after day.
Every city has at least one station, usually more, obsessed with work of Led Zeppelin and when cruising the dial it’s almost a certainty you’ll come across one of their songs within a few minutes. Like many other people I was very taken with the work of Norah Jones when she burst on the scene a few months ago. Now I’m in serious danger of becoming sick to death of her. At one point on my drive home last night, three of my six pre-programmed car radio stations were playing her music. The other three were on commercial.
Which leads me to my other complaint about today’s radio. I’m well aware that radio stations aren’t charities; they’re in the business to make money and that commercials are a necessary evil. Even so, since corporate radio became the norm, the amount of time spent on advertisements has increased to a ludicrous level. Most commercial breaks last six minutes or more while longer ones are not unheard of and many stations have no problem with returning to the air for a 30 second news or traffic update, then going straight back to commercials. Rush hour, or “drive time” periods are the worst, presumably because they know the audience is captive and between the commercials and the inane prattle of the presenters, many radio stations provide no more than two or three songs in any given hour.
And that’s another point right there. The term “disc jockey” disappeared along with vinyl and today’s music is played by “presenters” or “hosts”. Except somewhere along the line, the presenters became the focus of the show, not the music. Presumably because their market research says this is what the public wants, most stations now feel the need to entertain us with “wacky” morning shows, where two or sometimes three presenters will subject us to the most imbecilic drivel while occasionally…very occasionally, deigning to play some music. The pollsters have never asked my opinion, but as and when they do, my recommendation will be simple. Tell us a little about the artist, or the music, then shut the hell up and play it.
Why subject myself to this at all, you might be wondering, why not listen to tapes or CDs. Aye there’s the rub. I don’t have a CD player in my car, and the tape deck has a cassette jammed in it. So it’s radio or nothing. Sigh. I wonder if Radio Luxembourg is still on the air.
The real action took place on the pirate stations, Radio Luxembourg which did not, as most of us believed; come from the country of Luxembourg, but from somewhere in London and the pirate station Radio Caroline, which broadcast from a ship anchored in the North Sea. Or at least it did until a storm sank it sometime in the mid-seventies. Radio listening for me meant huddling under the blankets with a tiny transistor radio pressed to my ear trying to identify the tune being played.
By the time I left Britain in the early ‘90s, things had progressed considerably. BBC Radio 1 could now be found on the FM dial, with a much clearer signal and commercial stations were making inroads into markets outside the major cities. The problem was I’d long outgrown pop music by this time and for people under 50, there was little else to be had. True, the AM dial still had a large number of stations but with Britain being situated on the edge of Europe, the reception was a crazed mass of interference from multiple countries. It’s still a mystery how foreign radio stations located hundreds of miles away could deliver a clearer signal than the British ones on my doorstep.
So when I moved to the US, one of the many things I heartily embraced was the wealth of radio stations delivering crystal clear signals and every genre of music imaginable. Blues, classic rock, oldies, even country and western for the weirdoes; whatever your mood, you could find a station which would match it. Dear Wife was always puzzled by my enthusiasm as she didn’t think the radio was anything special but then I assumed, that was because she’d grown up in Los Angeles and had perhaps been somewhat spoilt. It wasn’t until my motor cycle died and I began commuting in a car and thus spent a lot more of my day listening to the radio that I began to see what she meant. Now, after more than ten years as a US resident, my opinion of radio has degenerated into what can only be called contempt.
The blame for this can be laid largely at the feet of two corporate entities; Clear Channel and Westwood One as well as the corrupt politicians who relaxed the laws limiting the number of stations one company could own in any given market. In the name of “freedom of choice for the consumer”, this pair have been allowed to gobble up some 80% of the radio stations in America which would be bad enough if it weren’t for the fact that they’re determined to turn the entire country in a homogenized desert of unimaginative blandness. There was a time when a road trip across America would reveal a wealth of musical styles and tastes as one traversed the country. No more. Now the radio dial has the same offering whether you’re in the Appalachians or Albuquerque; Wyoming or Washington DC.
Where the disc jockey was once the arbiter of taste; playing the music he or she wanted to hear, opinion polls tell today’s radio stations what to broadcast. The established, the predictable, the safe will always find a home on today’s radio, but young bands, new artists or anyone yet to fill their wall with gold records finds it almost impossible to gain a foothold. Yet the problem isn’t just that the stations keep their offerings to a limited number of artists, but that they play them endlessly, hour after hour, day after day.
Every city has at least one station, usually more, obsessed with work of Led Zeppelin and when cruising the dial it’s almost a certainty you’ll come across one of their songs within a few minutes. Like many other people I was very taken with the work of Norah Jones when she burst on the scene a few months ago. Now I’m in serious danger of becoming sick to death of her. At one point on my drive home last night, three of my six pre-programmed car radio stations were playing her music. The other three were on commercial.
Which leads me to my other complaint about today’s radio. I’m well aware that radio stations aren’t charities; they’re in the business to make money and that commercials are a necessary evil. Even so, since corporate radio became the norm, the amount of time spent on advertisements has increased to a ludicrous level. Most commercial breaks last six minutes or more while longer ones are not unheard of and many stations have no problem with returning to the air for a 30 second news or traffic update, then going straight back to commercials. Rush hour, or “drive time” periods are the worst, presumably because they know the audience is captive and between the commercials and the inane prattle of the presenters, many radio stations provide no more than two or three songs in any given hour.
And that’s another point right there. The term “disc jockey” disappeared along with vinyl and today’s music is played by “presenters” or “hosts”. Except somewhere along the line, the presenters became the focus of the show, not the music. Presumably because their market research says this is what the public wants, most stations now feel the need to entertain us with “wacky” morning shows, where two or sometimes three presenters will subject us to the most imbecilic drivel while occasionally…very occasionally, deigning to play some music. The pollsters have never asked my opinion, but as and when they do, my recommendation will be simple. Tell us a little about the artist, or the music, then shut the hell up and play it.
Why subject myself to this at all, you might be wondering, why not listen to tapes or CDs. Aye there’s the rub. I don’t have a CD player in my car, and the tape deck has a cassette jammed in it. So it’s radio or nothing. Sigh. I wonder if Radio Luxembourg is still on the air.
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