Monday, 17 August 2015

Nottingham Calling

Bridlesmith Gate lies at the heart of Nottingham's fashionable quarter.  

Jack Wills nestles near to Diesel; Flannels close to Ted Baker; and Paul Smith's quaint original shop lives on just a stone's throw away.

Number 4 Bridlesmith Gate stands towards the St. Peters' Gate end of this now pedestrianised street, squeezed between a tea shop and the Body Shop.  The attractive stone 1876 premises were once a pub, with the original landlord's initials carved into the stone; the Dog & Bear was later to attract a rowdy reputation.  

Part of this Grade II listed building also came to house Nottingham's first ever radio station, 5NG, provided by the new British Broadcasting Company. 


Its studio stretched out about 18' x 35', equipped with a large, lonely microphone. A second microphone was reserved for outside broadcasts; and a gramophone was on-hand for the playing of records.

The B.B.C.'s hasty initial strategy comprised the assembly of a network of local stations, with Nottingham being added to the map as the sixteenth outfit on a damp Tuesday September 16th, 1924. The 5NG signal was transmitted from an aerial dangling from a chimney on Noel Street.

Nottingham Evening Post 1924
20.00 The Band.
21.20:Opening Speeches.
Mr. J. C. W. Reith (Managing Director B.B.C.).
21.30:Speeches by:
The MAYOR. 
The SHERIFF.
The PRINCIPAL of UNIVERSITY COLLEGE. „
9.50. The Bend. S.B. to ""
Folk Song Suite Stations.
Vaughan- Williams (1) (1) March, " Seventeen
- Comp Sunday"; (2) "My
Bonny Boy" ; (3) Folk Song from Somerset.
22.00:WEATHER FORECAST and NEWS.
Simultaneous broadcast from London.
Local News.
22.15:Organ Solo.
22.20:The Band.
22.30:Close down.

The launch was an ambitious affair, heralded by a live outside broadcast from the Albert Hall with the RAF band providing an opening segue.  Accordingly, for the record, Wagner's 'Flying Dutchman' Overture was the first tune to be played on radio in Nottingham.  Such was local enthusiasm, a
ttendance exceeded the 1600 capacity and some unfortunate souls were left out in the rain enjoying a relay from loudspeakers at the Arboretum, kindly sponsored by Pearsons of Long Row.  

As the applause subsided, the B.B.C.'s inexperienced MD, John Reith, uttered a few encouraging words; followed by the Mayor and the Sheriff doing much the same thing.  After another burst of music, the switches were flicked and the citizens of Sneinton, Sherwood and Southwell witnessed their first late news from London crackling down the line. Those network bulletins were a relatively new affair: until the year before, content had been dictated by telephone from the London station to its patient little sisters across the country.

The station had been established as the fifth in a series of low-power relays around the UK, with 5NG supporting the larger 2ZY in Manchester from which it was fed via a telephone circuit. 
 The relays operated at 200 W,  compared to 1.5 kW for the main stations, together claiming to reach 75% coverage of the UK population; more than the first tranche of commercial radio (ILR) in the 70s; and about the same as the proposed second national DAB multiplex from Sound Digital.

5NG transmitted variously on wavelengths of 322m, 326m or 275.2m medium wave, as the Post Office mandarins pulled out their hair trying to make sense of the growing enthusiasm for broadcast spectrum here and overseas.

There was a proportion of evening local programming too, amounting to 2,782 hours in the first year. The jaunty 'Children's Corner', was a popular element, affording a stage for a host of local 'aunties' and 'uncles'. Auntie Ruby was in charge, who, by day, was Ruby Barlow, a solicitor's wife with theatrical leanings. Laurie Bagshaw was also much-loved by the 5NG team and  listeners alike.  Known for having 'racy friends', few knew how he actually earned a living, but he appeared to have sufficient free time to help manage the whole affair.

"The cumulative effect of this work has been to identify very closely the Nottingham Station with the life of the people. Nowhere has this been more apparent than with the work carried on in the Children's Hour. Nottingham has been singularly fortunate in those whose lot it has been to bring joy and happiness into so many homes. Day after day, year in, year out, the younger generation have been able to listen to songs, tales and jokes, a form of entertainment to which many of them had been strangers hitherto."  (BBC Yearbook 1928)

Lest older brethren felt excluded, the schedule also dutifully featured 'corners' for others, including "Scouts' Corner" and "Teens' Corner".


Local press engaged fully, with no hint of paranoia about the fledgling medium. In a regular '5NG attractions' column, one sub-heading read 'Some Good Programmes Next Week', beneath which the Nottingham Evening Post trumpeted a special local concert on-air featuring 'entertainer Stainless Steven'.

Outside broadcasts included the first ever radio coverage of the opening of Goose Fair on 1st October 1925; and the King opening the new University buildings on July 10th 1928, after which the City's Mayor became a Lord Mayor for the first time. Much excitement ensued when annual gatherings of 5NG's 'Radio Circle' were beamed from the old Exchange Hall.

A Mapperley lad made his debut on 5NG at the age of 12: Cyril Stapleton, who became a well-known violinist and bandleader, eventually playing with Henry Hall, the LSO and even on some Frank Sinatra tracks. As a schoolboy on 5NG, he broadcast in scholars' concerts "Master Cyril Stapleton (solo violin)".

Home made crystal sets were painstakingly assembled with long makeshift aerials to receive the signals from near and afar. The Nottingham Evening Post kept listeners abreast; and a radio column called "Wireless Whispers" was duly introduced. 5NG reception reports came in not just from Nottingham but also Loughborough, Lincoln, Leicester and Derby. Listeners were even tempted to invest in an expensive valve set, costing as much as 7 pounds.
  
The B.B.C. 1928 yearbook  proudly reports:

"It is three years since the Nottingham Relay Station was first opened, and from that date began a revolution in the artistic life of the city. So much a part of the life of the community has Broadcasting 'now become that it is difficult to imagine its absence.  In these three years more than 40,000 licences have been taken out in the Nottingham area, which has as many and perhaps more listeners per thousand of the population than any other centre of the B.B.C. activities. How has this been achieved?" 

"Nottingham is not renowned as a musical town, and yet musical artists of all kinds have offered their services for Broadcasting. The encouragement given to promising artists has been no small factor in building up the popularity of the Station. In addition to routine concert work, a number of popular community singing concerts have also been given from which local charities have benefited. Outside Broadcasts of events of civic importance have been a regular feature of the programmes." 

"Broadcasting has come to stay. The B.B.C. has set up a standard in Nottingham which must never be lowered in any way. Radio is quite as much a part of the daily life of the people as the newspapers, a position which must be kept and consolidated".

Life was not to be so simple. As technology advanced, 5XX on Long Wave, eventually from Daventry, took over; and 5GB supplied a Medium Wave service to the Midlands. National and regional radio had begun. 5NG was no longer needed.  The function of a relay station had become defunct; and its serendipitous emergence as a commmunity service was disregarded.

In the words of the understandably grumpy new Lord Mayor (Alderman Huntsman): "With all due respect to the authorities in this matter, I think they have overlooked the regional importance of a great centre like Nottingham. The connection between Nottingham and Birmingham is very weak.There is little association or mutual interest between the two great cities". (Nottingham Evening Post)

The pleas went unheeded. It was decreed that networked programmes should replace local ones.  Nottingham listeners were placated by assurances that their local talent would enjoy a bigger audience from  the regional transmitters; and that programme quality would be higher.  

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. 

Uncle Laurie and Auntie Ruby promptly defected to Birmingham; and 5NG turned off its valves on 31st October 1928 – after just four years. It was to be four decades before local broadcasting returned to Nottingham.




My book 'How to Make Great Radio' is published by Biteback. Proceeds to the Radio Academy.

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

An Old-fashioned Plea

My old man is 94. He loves his mobile phone and his iPad;  and merrily plays Olly Murs loudly from YouTube. He banks online.  He's not old-fashioned. And he says he doesn't feel old.

Whilst he likes Olly and Leona Lewis; he also enjoys Doris Day and the harmonies of the Beach Boys.  Whilst he talks readily about iTunes passwords, he also remembers the reg numbers of his old Ford Capri.  He likes Sam & Amy on Gem 106; and talks about Radio Luxembourg. Before his sight caught up with him, he relished this week's adulterous Coronation Street as much as old sepia episodes of Upstairs Downstairs.

BBC Local Radio rightly does not not want to sound 'old-fashioned'.  It is crucial, however, that it fully acknowledges the tastes and interests of an older audience. Those two objectives are mutually compatible. At a time when the BBC calmly considers how to revive the BBC Local audience, I do hope it does not mistake relating to an older audience for being old-fashioned. Playing more current songs and introducing more contemporary talk topics is not the way to a happier Rajar day.

BBC local listeners do not want a stuffy, dated, dull service; yet they do want content which relates to people like them.  In the outside world, fifty-somethings will find the greatest pleasure knocking about with friends their own age. Their life span and cultural references will co-incide; and they will share the same language, the same memories, the same smiles. They share the same country.

They certainly will not feel old; they may have ambitions and things they still wish to achieve - and a healthy interest in the here and now.  But they will also have the benefit of boasting a lifetime of memories and experiences from which to draw. They will likely have settled in a place they call home and started to take an interest in how it has changed around them.  They will care about things which a twenty-something would not; and they won't be too concerned about the youthful twaddle causing grief for that twenty-something.

Given BBC Local Radio provides the first step for many broadcasters, one can look around many stations and see rather more fresh, young faces on the coal-face than seasoned presenters and producers. Some of them likely know the area less well and won't hang around too long before they are whisked off on some exciting attachment. I do not recall the DG standing up in BH and announcing targets to encourage a workforce which reflects the demographics of BBC Local Radio's audience. Yet is not a daytime line-up of twenty-somethings as perverse as a Radio 1 line up of sixty-somethings? Radio hosted by someone over 50 can still excite. 

This must pose a challenge for BBC Local Radio. It is often through these young faces that the content funnel operates on a daily basis.  These promising, intelligent young staffers are charged with ascertaining whether or not the death of a celebrity unknown to their generation is news or not - and pronouncing their name properly. They are charged with answering the phones to people often thirty or forty years older than them and trying to establish the worth of that caller's topic.  And, on-air, those young broadcasters face the challenge of bantering with someone old enough to be their mother or grandmother, likely missing the nuances and opportunities for interest and entertainment.

An old person can remember what youth is like, a young person may never know how maturity feels. 

As a fledgling broadcaster, I recall trying not to give away my age to the listeners. They were generally about 30, I was 19. Painfully aware of the gap, I did my best  to focus the content appropriately; and was pleasantly delighted when listeners looked shocked at my acne when they met me. I'm not sure I could have managed to bridge any greater a gap.  If you can; you're very good. Grown-ups don't want to be spoken to like kids.

I worry about the focus of some BBC locals. Love songs and romantic messages really don't work as they do on younger formats. Topics of 'who did you have on you bedroom wall' are best not kicked off by a presenter monologue about their New Kids on the Block poster.

50+ listeners are not as obsessed with Twitter as twenty-somethings: only 6% of 55+ are 'hooked on social media'. 90% of 55+ do not regard  the smartphone as the most important way of using the internet; but they will smile when you mention the days of having to rely on just just a single phone hard-wired into their cold hallway. Well over half of 50+ do not bother with a social media profile of any sort: they know what they are, they're just not as obsessed*. They will likely love the satellite TV choice now available, but it won't seem two minutes since it was a choice of watching BBC1 or 'the other side'.

50+ listeners do not share the presenter's enthusiastic schoolday memories when they hear a song from the 1990s.  They feel that the 1980s seems actually quite recent.  The most recently a 50+ slipped their 'first record' delicately out of its sleeve was likely 1978. For the majority of the audience, it was much, much longer ago.

Great radio is relatable - and relatability is about identifying and sharing common ground.

And, notwithstanding the BBC's laudable intentions with the excellent Make It Digital Traineeship, I'm not altogether sure why their local stations are being asked to carry trails aimed specifically at 16-24s.

Whilst news bulletins on these local services will rightly be a little broader in their appeal, does the newsroom really attach due importance to the likely audience as it determines the news agenda for bulletins and the speech-heavy shows?  Does it pause to review material in the context of someone born in the 1960s and before? I can hear the local filter on-air with enviable excellence; I am sometimes unsure if I can hear the demographic one. Listeners are unlikely to be taking GCSEs or even still to have young children themselves. They are hugely more likely to own their own homes rather than rent; and the vast majority will have paid off their mortgages. They may well be pleased when house prices and interest rates rise.

It's just a matter of about thinking about life from the perspective of a fifty and sixty-something. That does not make it old-fashioned - it just makes it right. 

BBC Local Radio is quietly huge, with an audience in England of just under 7m mega-loyal listeners, almost the same reach as the mighty Capital network.  It's rarely top of mind, however, not least because, for a variety of reasons, its profile is low in the cities where decision-makers live: London, Birmingham & Manchester. It deserves the bit of love it is now being afforded. 

50+ is sadly unlikely to be a sustainable place for much commercial radio, so we must rely on the BBC to put its arm around the 19m people in the UK aged over 55, with the energy and focus with which the impressive Ben Cooper is attacking the 15-29s on Radio 1.

If the BBC hired sufficient gifted communicators of the right vintage, and a few folk who've 'lived' to handle the incoming calls - these stations will generate the 'warmth, personality and interaction' which David Holdsworth wisely seeks.



My book 'How To Make Great Radio' is out now from Biteback. 
Proceeds to the Radio Academy.


Monday, 27 July 2015

Holiday Reading


Roger Mosey is a chap you'd certainly want to meet. He witnessed what the Queen might have called the BBC's 'annus horribilis'. Savile, Newsnight et al. His perspective of that hugely challenging spell is thoroughly illuminating; and offers insight into how it must have felt deep inside the Corporation on those dark days.  His book, 'Getting Out Alive', kicks off with those witness accounts of the BBC storm, and then pedals through his career: from his spell at the birth of Pennine Radio in Bradford; past the Today programme; being Valerie Singleton's boss; off to control 5 Live; and beyond.  It's a brilliantly-crafted book, and a rewarding read.  Like many tomes by ex-BBC staff, there is a tolerance of the Corporation's headaches and silliness, combined with a huge amount of love and respect.


It's tough to conjure up a single epithet for John Myers. Is he a consultant? A presenter? A programmer? A businessman? His biography calls him a 'radio executive', so I shall stick with that label, although it does not really do justice to this canny and much-loved larger than life figure.  He's known by everybody anyway, so it matters little. His "Team, it's Only Radio" book is an easy and entertaining read, with John's rich stories of the characters and key events in commercial radio's first age told with the gift of a great Northern story-teller. I gather he may be considering a sequel. I'll buy that too.


In 1988, a woman turned up at Broadcasting House with a gun, frustrated at not being able to receive Radio 4.  Any book which kicks off with that anecdote is certainly worth a read. 'Life on-air: A history of Radio 4' by David Hendy is a meticulously-researched account of a network with a special place in the nation's heart.  It's maybe a little detailed for the sun-lounger, but a fascinating account of how the network found its feet and claimed its current territory. A lighter, but nevertheless painstakingly assembled, account of the station is offered in 'For the Love of Radio 4', written with deep affection by Caroline Hodgson. Lots of fascinating facts, a smile or two about the close relationship the station enjoys with its audience; and it utters the unsayable: that most Shipping Forecast listeners are actually on land.



You can't help but like Scott Mills. He emerges from his 'Love you, Bye: My Story' biography as a thoroughly lovely, honest guy. His biog is another light read, in the nicest possible way, sharing the trials, tribulations and many successes of his life with utter openness and great humour.  From his cripplingly shy youth and frighteningly typical hospital radio station, through the anxious early days at Ocean Sound, ending up at one of the best places in British radio.  Tales of Scott the radio presenter are interlaced with stories of Scott the man, to huge effect.  Also, witness the tale behind his impressive and still-remembered 'World's worst place to be gay?' TV show.



I'll concede that it's unlikely even the most diligent radio person will wish to thumb through a law book on holiday over the Margaritas, but in a list of radio books, it's a self-evident must. Without one, you may not not have a job to pay for next year's holiday.  Essential Radio Journalism is a book designed to be read and used by people like us; although, as the name suggests, it really is not just about law. Paul Chantler and Peter Stewart show how to do the radio journalist job well; and offer a pithy reminder not to refer to 'huge security operations' or 'trained negotiators' in news stories, given small security operations and untrained negotiators are few and far between. There's even a section on how to sit when you're doing your bulletins. 



When it comes to great radio consultants around the World, a few names stick out. Phil Dowse is one; and another is Valerie Geller.  I still remember fondly my time working with her on LBC, when we ensnared presenters into a luxury West London hotel room for a little counselling. Fascinating times. When you've met Valerie, or heard her speak, you can hear her insistent voice as you plough through her publications.  She's a great performer. Her books are very much a practical offering.  'Never be boring', she rightly says.  This latest publication takes us 'Beyond Powerful Radio', helping us to exploit radio in a changing media world.




Jeremy Vine strikes me as someone who has fairly recently really discovered the depth of his love for this great thing called radio.  From being perhaps best known from TV, he has quietly now become a Radio 2 stalwart, delivering an enviably accessible, entertaining talk show with confidence and immense skill. His casting for that show was inspired; and he's mastered social media too. The quality of writing in 'It's all News to Me', however, shows his journalistic grounding and tells of a humble, likeable guy, "locked inside the BBC for 25 years". Beautifully-written, entertaining stories of a fascinating life; the life of the youngest ever presenter on the Today programme.




One great thing about Kenny Everett is that much audio still exists. Much has been written too; but little with the care and love as this book from James Hogg and Robert Sellers: The Authorised Biography of Kenny Everett'. Affectionate, but utterly well-informed by those who got as close to Kenny's complex character as anyone could.










And there's my own humble publication. Forgive me. I'm never sure whether the title 'How to Make Great Radio' really helps describe it. Yes, there are many suggestions on radio technique, but also some stories too from my decades in this industry, given no-one will likely ever wish to buy my autobiography. I have to say I've been touched by the feedback from people I respect highly; and from those newer in the industry who suggest they've derived huge value from it. I'm particularly pleased that many who've been in the business some years have also suggested it has offered even them some food for thought. Grab it on Amazon, or direct from my fine publishers, Biteback, at a bargain price. Proceeds to the Radio Academy.

Friday, 17 July 2015

Mug or a sticker?

It's the only mug I never drink out of. Such happy red and blue adolescent memories, brought back by the best radio logo in the World. The Radio 1 Thunderbirds logo.  To me, that earthenware mug is worth more than a piece of Clarice Cliff.

Not all radio station merchandising ends up being quite as precious. There was much excitement when Graham Knight, presenter of the then compulsory lunchtime magazine programme at Radio Trent, took delivery of his merchandising.  Gaudy, cheap, purple pens had been ordered, inscribed with the name of his programme 'Trent Topic'.

As Graham  opened the big box, his face fell as he realised the printers, less familiar with the programming demands of the IBA, had printed 'Trent Tropic' instead.  The pens were never sent back to whichever country had printed them; I think we gave them away on the programme one fortunate hot day in what must have seemed like an immaculately planned Summery contest. 

Radio stations loved merchandising. Back then it seemed cool to show the world which station you listened to.  Some individuals would happily live their lives wearing a branded T shirt or sweat shirt.

Pic courtesy of David Smith (Simon Parry)
On acquiring the old Centre Radio premises from the liquidators, the eager marketing manager at its replacement, Leicester Sound, scratched his head on what to do with a million T shirts bearing the name of the station's ill-fated predecessor.  Probably over a drink at the nearby Marquis, the idea was hatched to overprint each with the new logo and word 'recycled' .  An idea ahead of its time, actually.

Leicester Sound loved its merchandise.  We had sweet little teddy bears with logos on their chests; and long promos on-air boasted their merits.  Wonderful Wendy on reception also sold branded, baggy boxer shorts.  These were the Nick Kamen days when baggy was in. They were available in small, medium and large; although a surfeit of the latter appeared to be sold to most of the visiting listeners, as I recall. With male and female options in stock, Wendy would ask whether they sought ones with an opening - or without.  

Thinking back, in those days, Leicester Sound probably earned more from merchandising than the radio business. Mind you, they were tough days for the medium. Profits from the Coke machine even helped. For most stations though, despite the best of intentions, merchandising stock attracts dust and bills. The size of the order inversely proportional to the likelihood of the presenter or station name/logo remaining sufficiently long.

Mouse mats went through a phase of popularity; as did baseball hats and furry bugs. James Cridland reminds me that Viking in Hull offered skimpy knickers bearing the station's mascot 'Eric the Viking', until the idea failed to find favour with the station's new owners. And the there were the Pennine radio rain-hoods for those rainy Bradford days. 

Mugs have been the great survivor. Some stations still have them. You cannot not find  a mug useful. It always has value. Some stations, however, would be well advised to seek advice on the design and wording before pressing send on their order; especially BBC local stations.

Car stickers too endure. Some stations, again, seem tempted to devise creative designs which can only be seen as you crash into the car in front.


In fact, all these years on, everything has changed about our medium: technology; ownership; brand names; music; presenters; regulator; and ownership. The only constants are arguably just those mugs and stickers.  

Do let me have a pic of your favourite example of station merchandising.Just for fun, of course.
BBC Essex egg cup, thanks to Phil Shieber







My book, 'How to Make Great Radio' is out now, published by Biteback.

Stickers from Paul Teague
Memorable, huh?

Happy '60s BBC local days
Eggy fun from BBC WM, thanks to David Butler
Good grief. 

Do Tweet more of these to me @davidlloydradio

Sunday, 12 July 2015

Sounds Like You Want to Hear - 40 years on

Reunions are awful things. Bumping into people you'd rather not see again; people you barely recognise; and acknowledging that you really are as old  as everyone else is.

The 40th anniversary celebrations of the first tranche ofcommercial stations are well underway. I gather the LBC celebrations in 2013 went off with a bang; the old Metro, Hallam and Piccadilly crowds really enjoyed themselves; and just a few weeks ago the, old Radio Tees (Tfm) crowd toasted four decades since Les Ross lifted the arm on the turntable for the very first time.

Last weekend saw the 40th anniversary of commercial radio in Nottingham. Radio Trent was the 13th in the list of stations celebrating those forty changing years. 

We were privileged to be allowed to take over the old premises on Castle Gate for the night, thanks to the wonderful co-operation of its current occupants, Base 51/NGY. (@Base51) They manage an impressive new centre for young people in the city, housed in this lovingly restored historic building.  The old car park, home of so many arguments in Trent's day, when presenters would rush up during a two minute oldie to shift their vehicle so the OB Land Rover could escape, has become a surprisingly attractive patio where generations of  the old Trent guard could assemble in the early evening July sunshine.

Ron Coles, who, as MD, nursed the station through its mid-life crises, stood to relay messages from those who could not attend; and Nick Shaw paid tribute to all those who had gone to work in what must now be a very great radio station in the sky, including his dear brother, John.

In a bizarre twist, the new venture now houses Notts YMCA radio/audio (@YMCA_digital) facilities in its basement, so in some senses the old subterranean studios have been restored to their seventies purpose. The breeze block studio walls remain, and even the old sealed window through to the old MCR 'control room'.  John Peters, first voice on-air, stared at his reflection, aged 24, in the glass.

A drink or two had been consumed by the time guided trips around the building began, so emotions were high as the Trent team revisited the scenes of their crimes.  Newsreader, Tim Heeley, drew up a chair in what would have been the newsbooth to deliver a familiar, reassuring late night bulletin, as he had most nights in the 80s.

How brilliant it was to shake hands once again and trade memories with  the journalists, the presenters, the sales people, the traffic team, the creative producers and accounts staff who had captained the old station through its colourful past.  I tingled when I met the characters I'd grown up listening to, whose voices were the reason I worked in radio.

All generations were represented, from the smiling pioneers right through to a welcome smattering of the current Capital crowd, including  Dino & Pete from breakfast who were welcomed as inheritors of the 96.2 crown.  They represented today's necessarily efficient, focused radio stations, which now together deliver significantly greater audiences to East Midlands' commercial radio than we battled for in the vintage, vinyl days.

Returning to our old home was a little like one of those odd dreams where random people from your life gather in an impossible location.  Or being treated to an opportunity to step back in time, and continue, in loco, the conversations which had been severed some decades before.

As we cleared up the venue late that night and restored the venue to its new purpose after a beautiful emotional journey, we slotted our  memories back in their rightful place at the back of our minds.  The old logos, the old jingles, the old pics returned to their cardboard boxes too, like Christmas decorations on the twelfth night. The reminiscences  are over for now. 

Meanwhile, for all those lucky enough to still be working in this great medium and still as excited as ever, let's set out to create some more great times we can, one day, also look back on with similar huge enthusiasm.






  • Base 51 is a Nottingham charity doing great things in the City, welcoming support and donations.  
  • If you came along and didn't get a chance to make a donation to the event, drop me a line.
  • Trent history blog
  • My book 'How to Make Great Radio' is published by Biteback

Wednesday, 8 July 2015

Radio. And trust.

Richard Huntington, Chief Strategy Officer, from Saatchi and Saatchi, will never put on weight. His energetic and persuasive presentation today at the impressive #tuningin conference, staged by a new colourful and United RadioCentre, commanded the attention of the usually fidgety throng.

His message was clear, as befits an inspiring speaker. Trust matters to brands. He told with affection the story of Barclays Bank which, like Lloyd's where I worked for a desperate seven months, used to chain its pens to the counter. They were fearful that people might rush in, intent on stealing the lot. They did not trust their customers. And if they don't trust their customers, why should their customers trust them? The story ends happily, as Barclays cannily moved to branded pens, inscribed with the motif 'borrowed from my bank'.

Great brands do not ask for trust, they show it, in the hope their customers will offer loyalty in return. This concept of repricosity is well-established. In my book, I quote the work which suggests that even offering a cup of coffee to someone helps to build an expectation of mutually fruitful dealings. In commercial radio, that repricosity can be shown by delivering entertaining or useful commercial content, rather than shouty ads. 

Radio is trusted. We know that. My station received an email a few weeks ago from an angry listener complaining to us about a client from which she'd had poor service. She blamed us, because we'd aired the ad. She made our responsibility abudundantly clear 'I heard the ad on your station, so I thought it wouldn't be a rip off'. 

Another listener wrote to us last year, having bought a ticket to our marvellous Free Radio Live annual multi-artist gig at the Genting Arena. She asked if we were laying on a train. We, her trusted friend, had sold her a ticket and she felt we might be able to offer her a lift too. The fact that listener invested in tickets even before any line-up is announced is trust again.

Matt Deegan related to me, over a tasty slice of ham at lunch, the angry epistles he receives from parents who feel that the odd song on his Fun Kids station is unsuitable. One sympathises with the agony of selecting songs for a range of kids of all ages.  The listener, however, had no such sympathy. She felt the station she trusted had let her down.   We get the same, with listeners writing occasionally saying 'I know I can normally have you on, but today I worried about what you said when my kids were in the car'.

BBC station BAs will often tell of the calls they get asking the location of a doctor's surgery or what time B & Q closes. Radio stations are trusted to know everything.  

Which is trusted more - radio news or the press?

Expectations are high. When a programme ends its run, or a programme strand no longer can justify its cost, listeners are indignant. How dare you change something? Whether a commercial or a BBC operation, there is an expectation that radio stations are there to provide a public service. A service they trust. 

Radio should make more of the trust it commands. Do people trust ads on a Google search as much as they trust an ad on radio? Do people trust a presenter delivering a commercial promotion more than a banner on a website? 

And, we should be sure that, however, our industry continues to change, we treasure that reputation. We should, in the words of Richard, 'leave something on the table' and not extract every ounce of value from the listener without consideration. 



My book 'How to Make Great Radio' is out now from Biteback publishing. Proceeds to the Radio Academy.

Thursday, 18 June 2015

You’re up to date, I’m Fred Farnsbarns

Why do people insist on proclaiming their own name when they appear on the radio?  

It’s a policy I can defend with energy for regular programme presenters who spend hours each day with their listeners, for years and years.  For those personalities and on most formats, it’s only polite every now and again to shake hands with the dear listener, say hello and announce who you are.

What is a little more puzzling is when ever-changing contributors diminish their short time on air by announcing their name as though it truly is much more important than anything else.  The travel, weather and news headline folk really seem hell-bent on trumpeting their name sufficiently clearly for their mothers to hear. 

On some stations, by the time we’ve got through the station jingle and sponsor, and they've announced the fact that they are about to deliver the travel news and announced their name in full, there’s scant time for the hold-up on the M1.

On others, we are formally introduced to the nasal work experience lad who’s been asked to voice a news report into which he’s had no input, for no discernible reason. His identity is of no relevance and adds no weight to the contribution. He's hardly our Home Affairs correspondent.

This headline position of the contributor's name suggests someone believes it is the most important thing of all.

Again, if you are an expert correspondent in your field, ‘part of the show’, the whole show (whatever the format), or make a regular substantive contribution, there’s a good case to be made for saying who you are.  In those cases, your reputation and familiarity brings value.  On a fast-moving rota, where different thoroughly proficient voices pop up across the schedule, delivering utility information without reputation, do listeners really care too much to whom those honeyed tones belong?

I wonder why we do it.  In my experience, sadly, most listeners to many successful music stations only just remember the names of excellent presenters, even though they appear for hours every day.  How many would actually recall the names of the folk providing the many breathless cameos?

It was not always thus.  Until the ‘30s, British news bulletins simply launched straight into the latest delicate headlines from the Empire, delivered in impeccable tones.  The perils of wartime, however, brought a risk that bulletins from other less reliable foreign sources might be confused with Auntie's. At a time where the first casualty is said to be the truth, it was felt that listeners “must be able to recognise instantly the authentic voice of BBC broadcasting".

The instruction was accordingly issued that newsreaders should identify themselves.  FrankPhillips was first to do it - 75 years ago, in July 1940.

Back then, they made a meal of it too: ‘here is the news - and this is Alvar Lidellreading it’. 

Identifying yourself brings its price too: listeners know who to blame.  One irate listener scribbled a neat note to the DG after hearing Phillips purring from his Bakelite set: "sack that man immediately; we'll never win the war while he is reading the news".

Now, everyone’s cottoned on, and we’re all hissing our names, regardless of the relevance. Maybe we should extend the policy by introducing ourselves proudly by name each night to the checkout operator at Tesco. I could even play my accapella name-checks to them from my phone, come to that.

This July, the habit is 75 years old.  Do we still need quite so many names in quite so many places? Time for a re-think now the War’s over?

That was David Lloyd  reporting.




Wednesday, 10 June 2015

The RadioMoments Challenge


Sunday, 31 May 2015

It's seventeen before eight - the folly of radio time-checks

‘It’s 17 before 8’ uttered a hugely experienced broadcaster the other day; and one for whom I have huge respect.

‘7 minutes ahead of 8’. '

 23 after 8'. 

'It's 14 minutes past the hour of 6 o clock'.  


What?

Stop this nonsense.

Why do presenters have this obsession with over-complicating or oddly-phrasing something as simple as the time?  They toil over translating it into a language unfamiliar to any citizen on earth.
The rule should be simple: say it as if a response to a friend asking you the time. As with so many matters in radio, say it as you normally would.

In real life, what do we say? ‘Just gone twenty past eight’.  ‘Five to eight’.  ‘Nearly half past eight’.

As I began working to set up Lincs FM, the Chief Executive shared his list of obsessions with me – as CEOs are fully entitled so to do. He hated silly time-checks; and even went as far as spitting out his tea if he heard a digital time-check.  Thus, it was never, ever 17.43 in Mablethorpe. Oh no.

By 1967, Tony Blackburn appeared to have adopted his policy of only telling the time on the half minute.  'Its seventeen AND A HALF minutes past eight o clock'.  He does it to this day. Mind you, Tony can do what he likes – his irony works.

In a recent focus group I moderated, the topic of time-checks came up. Playing devil’s advocate, I suggested they might be redundant nowadays. Not least because we all carry phones with the time on display and alarms built in; digital radios show it even when in sleep mode; and, for goodness sake, even your cooker even tells you the time. The assembled radio listeners were indignantly unanimous in valuing radio’s reassurance and gave me the impression that if the radio said it was ten past eight, and everything else suggested ten past seven, they’d believe the radio. That’s nice.

I was then prompted to ask a similar question of 5000 listeners in one of our sporadic questionnaires last month, just to double-check that it remains correct to glare angrily at breakfast presenters who forget to mention the time.  Maybe life has moved on, I mused.

The result surprised me.  A majority deemed time-checks very useful and 89% found them very or quite useful. Only 3% suggested they really were not needed.

Listeners like their benchmarks vaguely on time too.  Most stations have a policy on how far away from ‘on time’ you are allowed to be.  Some are honest about it on-air: ‘it’s just after eight 'O clock’; or you might hear the journalist who’s been twiddling their thumbs for ages spitting out an angry: ‘It’s THREE minutes past eight’. Some stations pretend it’s still 8 'O clock, when that time is but a distant memory.

Then Pips sound nice, as does Big Ben.   They make things sound terribly important.  A sense of precision and accuracy, even though we know that buffered online listening and digital transmission now mean the pips can arrive in Mrs Miggins’s kitchen at about ten past. As above, it matters not really, a reasonably accurate steer is generally all you need.
The Pips have been sounded since February the 5th 1924; a bright idea from good old Johnny Reith, who was not averse to precision.  The Astronomer Royal, Sir Frank Watson Dyson, duly sorted out some mechanical clocks in the Royal Greenwich Observatory  - after chatting it all over with the chap who invented the pendulum clock. Handy to have mates like that.  Two clocks were used, in case one broke down.  It’s the unique way they’re funded. Mind you, they only cost twenty quid each.

The BBC generate the Pips from within Broadcasting House nowadays.  If that gig ever gets pitched out for independent production, I’m going to turn up in the lobby of BH with my descant recorder.

Thanks to talented James Cridland and cheery John Myers for reminding me about this matter, which is a notable and annoying absentee from any chapter in my book.

But please, no more silly timechecks. And don't bother telling me it's the year 2015 either. I know that. 



My book 'How to Make Great Radio' is published by Biteback publishing.Proceeds to Radio Academy