A friend and former colleague in the
radio biz came by to see me today. "Super" Mike Wilson is the 7
pm to midnight jock at one of the local Hot AC stations; hot AC being just
another vague radio term for the format formally known as Top 40. But
before moving cross-town and taking on his new gig, Mike and I shared the
same office, filling a number of off-air, behind-the-scenes positions in the
programming department here at EMF Broadcasting.
Though my days as a jock are probably behind me and Mike's are just getting started, rather than actually working we spent a lot of time exchanging tales of our time on radio's front lines. Yes! At least one more person who hasn't been mesmerized, slash, bored by the same loquacious stories I’ve been sharing here in the blog. In other words Mike indulged me. But we shared plenty of laughs at the expense of some unforgettable (though not always in a good way), program directors, co-workers and listeners.
At EMF, Mike’s position had been only part-time and, though sad to see him leave, the opportunity to go full time, particularly full time on the air, was too golden to pass up. For up and coming broadcasters like Mike, those types of opportunities don't come along every day and I knew he’d go for it. But as he mulled it over this summer, I found it easy hearkening back and imagining myself again in Mike's shoes; back when I , too, was just getting started in the business.
Mike's 25 and I was 23 when I got my first full time break, so our starting points are similar. And I didn't care if they put me on overnights or weekends or holidays- just put me on. Like it was yesterday, I can remember my weeks at Spokane's KZUN and, later, KGA, feeling the same inner mixture of excitement and wide-eyed enthusiasm, bits of initial trepidation, and billowing career expectations that Mike must be going through now. For me, though the hours were wacky and often felt like I was living in a whirlwind, the most pure un-jaded fun of my entire broadcast career came during those first intense years.
Of course, the fun didn't last. It couldn't. Like the jolt of “love’ that comes with your first crush, the initial rush of working in radio doesn’t last forever either. And by about the second firing and forth set of call letters, radio had become just a way to make a living. Much of the luster had worn off of my shiny new vocation, too. This was about the time corporate constraints, mis and micro-management, and creativity were sucked out of the experience and the unbridled joy of getting to do what you always wanted to do got turned into just a job. I hope Mike never goes through that. But I have little doubt that at some point, he will.
It's already starting.
Mike was telling me today how his program director wants him to participate in a focus group of 13-17 year old girls because the station's numbers in that age group during his time slot are down. Nevermind the target demographic is 18-29. Or the absurdity of requiring a 25 year-old man to involve himself in a "focus group" with school-girl teens. "Oh wonderful", Mike lamented. "Now I have to live, breathe, eat and sleep Justin Bieber and be on Twitter and Facebook all the time so I’ll know what makes high school chicks tick.” He paused before the punch line. "Hell, I didn't care what they thought when I was that age and I sure don't give a crap what they're thinking now". No matter how his boss frames it, the concept seems silly. And just a tad bit creepy, too, though Mike certainly isn’t.
I just wonder how the radio business got so sidetracked. I mean there’s always been consultants and guidelines, formulas and charts for pulling in the most listeners, and deciding which records to play. They're all necessary evils. But in the last 15 to 20 years, with the expansion of technology and diminishing number of sole proprietor, or family owned radio stations, these minor annoyances have become major artistic sticking points that chew up energy and imagination. So much of what we do now is so weighted down and attached at the hip to things like Cume and TSL (time spent listening) and narrow-casting, it’s amazing the broadcast industry as a whole can stand straight enough to take the proverbial leak.
Radio people have been replaced by focus groups, talent consultants, bean counters and the latest shiny new hi-tech programming algorithm in order to try and glean the highest ratings. Or steal the most listeners. Almost every radio station in ever-expanding corporate "clusters" are now often programmed by one person or consultant groups so that every station they own pretty much sounds the same. No matter where you are, except for the call letters, a "Star" 94.3” in Indianapolis more than likely sounds exactly like the "Star" 107.8” in Elko. And in an age when generic d.j. voice tracks can be sent easily via mp3 file or FTP sights the "personalities" might be the same in both places as well. Sure, it’s cost effective and might sound slick, too. But it costs jobs, and often feels so very, very canned. Thank you, "I Heart Radio".
A decade or so ago, local radio was either really good, really adequate or really bad, depending on how far off the beaten path you strayed. Regardless, at least the people on the air actually lived in their markets and the sound reflected the community in which it broadcast. Not so much anymore. Another reason why so many stations sound so much the same is because they're all using the same methodology for determining their playlists. Songs don't make it off the music director's desk anymore until they've first been put through an auditorium test. That’s where groups of 30-40 alleged station listeners, or people at least within the target demographic, get to sit through an hour of :10-:15 second music "hooks", and rate how much they like or dislike each one. For their trouble, they get free cookies and coffee, and maybe a station bumper sticker.
And at the end of the hour, if enough 18-24 year old females in Omaha with red hair and blue eyes like the tiny sampling of record 'A' over record 'B', record 'A' becomes an automatic add while 'record ‘B’ likely never sees the light of day. A programmer using his gut, instinct and knowing his audience and community anymore counts for nothing. And if you're a local unknown artist just hoping to get your demo a little local air play, forget about it. Everything's by the numbers now. If you're not on a chart, not with a major label or promoter, and you haven't tested well, your song will never be heard outside your circle of friends. At least in corporate-America radio.
Of course, with the introduction of the i-Pod, podcasts, audio streaming, satellite radio, and with consumers having so much access to music and music programming anymore, radio can't be as passive as before. They can’t simply assume they'll attract and keep listeners just because they've always been there, or out of loyalty. They can't operate as a benevolent dictator, deciding to give the audience what they think they want, then ignoring them till the next ratings period. That doesn't work anymore, either. Nowadays, radio is more inner-active and station insiders aren't as much in control. Listeners are more in charge now, and in an industry where it’s a dog-fight to grab and hold on to every last set of ears, making sure those ears feel like they have a say in things is the smart way to operate.
Though my days as a jock are probably behind me and Mike's are just getting started, rather than actually working we spent a lot of time exchanging tales of our time on radio's front lines. Yes! At least one more person who hasn't been mesmerized, slash, bored by the same loquacious stories I’ve been sharing here in the blog. In other words Mike indulged me. But we shared plenty of laughs at the expense of some unforgettable (though not always in a good way), program directors, co-workers and listeners.
At EMF, Mike’s position had been only part-time and, though sad to see him leave, the opportunity to go full time, particularly full time on the air, was too golden to pass up. For up and coming broadcasters like Mike, those types of opportunities don't come along every day and I knew he’d go for it. But as he mulled it over this summer, I found it easy hearkening back and imagining myself again in Mike's shoes; back when I , too, was just getting started in the business.
Mike's 25 and I was 23 when I got my first full time break, so our starting points are similar. And I didn't care if they put me on overnights or weekends or holidays- just put me on. Like it was yesterday, I can remember my weeks at Spokane's KZUN and, later, KGA, feeling the same inner mixture of excitement and wide-eyed enthusiasm, bits of initial trepidation, and billowing career expectations that Mike must be going through now. For me, though the hours were wacky and often felt like I was living in a whirlwind, the most pure un-jaded fun of my entire broadcast career came during those first intense years.
Of course, the fun didn't last. It couldn't. Like the jolt of “love’ that comes with your first crush, the initial rush of working in radio doesn’t last forever either. And by about the second firing and forth set of call letters, radio had become just a way to make a living. Much of the luster had worn off of my shiny new vocation, too. This was about the time corporate constraints, mis and micro-management, and creativity were sucked out of the experience and the unbridled joy of getting to do what you always wanted to do got turned into just a job. I hope Mike never goes through that. But I have little doubt that at some point, he will.
It's already starting.
Mike was telling me today how his program director wants him to participate in a focus group of 13-17 year old girls because the station's numbers in that age group during his time slot are down. Nevermind the target demographic is 18-29. Or the absurdity of requiring a 25 year-old man to involve himself in a "focus group" with school-girl teens. "Oh wonderful", Mike lamented. "Now I have to live, breathe, eat and sleep Justin Bieber and be on Twitter and Facebook all the time so I’ll know what makes high school chicks tick.” He paused before the punch line. "Hell, I didn't care what they thought when I was that age and I sure don't give a crap what they're thinking now". No matter how his boss frames it, the concept seems silly. And just a tad bit creepy, too, though Mike certainly isn’t.
I just wonder how the radio business got so sidetracked. I mean there’s always been consultants and guidelines, formulas and charts for pulling in the most listeners, and deciding which records to play. They're all necessary evils. But in the last 15 to 20 years, with the expansion of technology and diminishing number of sole proprietor, or family owned radio stations, these minor annoyances have become major artistic sticking points that chew up energy and imagination. So much of what we do now is so weighted down and attached at the hip to things like Cume and TSL (time spent listening) and narrow-casting, it’s amazing the broadcast industry as a whole can stand straight enough to take the proverbial leak.
Radio people have been replaced by focus groups, talent consultants, bean counters and the latest shiny new hi-tech programming algorithm in order to try and glean the highest ratings. Or steal the most listeners. Almost every radio station in ever-expanding corporate "clusters" are now often programmed by one person or consultant groups so that every station they own pretty much sounds the same. No matter where you are, except for the call letters, a "Star" 94.3” in Indianapolis more than likely sounds exactly like the "Star" 107.8” in Elko. And in an age when generic d.j. voice tracks can be sent easily via mp3 file or FTP sights the "personalities" might be the same in both places as well. Sure, it’s cost effective and might sound slick, too. But it costs jobs, and often feels so very, very canned. Thank you, "I Heart Radio".
A decade or so ago, local radio was either really good, really adequate or really bad, depending on how far off the beaten path you strayed. Regardless, at least the people on the air actually lived in their markets and the sound reflected the community in which it broadcast. Not so much anymore. Another reason why so many stations sound so much the same is because they're all using the same methodology for determining their playlists. Songs don't make it off the music director's desk anymore until they've first been put through an auditorium test. That’s where groups of 30-40 alleged station listeners, or people at least within the target demographic, get to sit through an hour of :10-:15 second music "hooks", and rate how much they like or dislike each one. For their trouble, they get free cookies and coffee, and maybe a station bumper sticker.
And at the end of the hour, if enough 18-24 year old females in Omaha with red hair and blue eyes like the tiny sampling of record 'A' over record 'B', record 'A' becomes an automatic add while 'record ‘B’ likely never sees the light of day. A programmer using his gut, instinct and knowing his audience and community anymore counts for nothing. And if you're a local unknown artist just hoping to get your demo a little local air play, forget about it. Everything's by the numbers now. If you're not on a chart, not with a major label or promoter, and you haven't tested well, your song will never be heard outside your circle of friends. At least in corporate-America radio.
Of course, with the introduction of the i-Pod, podcasts, audio streaming, satellite radio, and with consumers having so much access to music and music programming anymore, radio can't be as passive as before. They can’t simply assume they'll attract and keep listeners just because they've always been there, or out of loyalty. They can't operate as a benevolent dictator, deciding to give the audience what they think they want, then ignoring them till the next ratings period. That doesn't work anymore, either. Nowadays, radio is more inner-active and station insiders aren't as much in control. Listeners are more in charge now, and in an industry where it’s a dog-fight to grab and hold on to every last set of ears, making sure those ears feel like they have a say in things is the smart way to operate.
So these new tools and business
models are in play just to survive. I get that. I don't always like it,
but I get it. At least here where I work, though our on-air guys and gals work
under many of the same guiding principles, they're excellent at what they do and
nobody listening at home would ever know the noodling-though process that goes
into almost every minute of the broadcast day. And frankly, despite my
objections and laments, something's working. There must be a method
to some of this madness because, at the risk of sounding too boastful, I
think we sound awesome. Of course, we're a coast to coast network too, so
we better be. Still, I feel a little bad for Mike, having to try and not
talk down to a portion of his audience that's considerably younger. I had to do
the opposite.
Going to work in my early 20's at two very traditional
country music stations, I was tasked with talking and relating to a core group
of listeners, the vast majority at least ten years older than me. It was a
little intimidating. It was also a little bit of a let-down because as a guy on
the radio, I wanted to impress girls my own age; not girls my Mom’s age. I’d
have preferred jocking on a rock station, but the jobs I landed were someplace
else. But it was a job, paying real money doing real work in real radio. It was
also initially, a bit overwhelming,
But one of my first bosses, KGA's Tom Newman, had
some good advice. Number one: relax. "What we do here isn't
going to cure cancer. It’s all just ear candy." More
importantly he said, "You're not announcing to a large nameless crowd.
You're just having a nice conversation with one good friend. When you crack the
mic, just talk to him or her and everything else will fall into place." And he was right. Sure I had to stick to the
formatics and keep my chatter to 45 seconds or less, but he was right. After
that conversation, being on the air was easy. Not easy, in the sense that
I was suddenly 'great'. But easy in that I was allowed the freedom and time to
develop my own style and personality without the fear of an omni-present
programming big-brother breathing down my neck.
And eventually, being on the radio just
seemed to come natural. Cume, TSL, the demographics, focus groups
and all the other like-sounding minutia just seemed to take care of itself. And
though I wasn't often Arbitron rated on the overnight shifts, when I worked at
other times of the day, I could hold my own. So I held on and had a nice 22 years on
the air. And I hope the same, and even more for Mike. Even if he has to
know more than he ever wants to know about Justin Bieber and the workings of
the teenage girl's mind, someday he’ll look back and know it was all worth it.
Have a great career, buddy!
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