Bye for now, Jimmy Young

Presenters like to sing loudly with their headphones on.  Very few go on to huge chart success.

Jimmy Young did, hitting the 'top-spot' on the NME chart with ‘Unchained Melody’ and ‘the Man from Laramie’; and amassing an impressive string of other 50s favourites in the days when Number Ones sold millions.

He is best-remembered, however, for his radio. Hear, here, this unmistakable presenter, with his trademark Gloucestershire burr and catch phrases. He dominated daytime radio for decades, retiring reluctantly in 2002, aged 81, after 42 years at the BBC.

Jimmy had helped out in the family baking business, indeed he and his dad ended up in court when he was caught driving the family van in his early teens. 

His first love throughout was music. His mother taught him piano and encouraged his voice training. 

After a spell in the forces and as an electrician, a BBC producer spotted him playing piano at a swimming club.  Jim was duly handed his BBC Bakelite lanyard in August 1949.

His BBC career saw him hosting ‘Housewives Choice’ on the Light Programme for a few weeks in 1960, a successful run on weekend lates - and a few other offerings on Auntie's chill-out service. He was also to record  shows in London for the huge Radio Luxembourg. 

The broadcasting break had come not a moment too soon, as the ballads for which he’d been famous gave way to dirty rock ‘n roll.

Jimmy went on to appear daily on the fledgling BBC Radio 1, by which time he was already older than Moyles was when he left. Jim hosted its mid-morning show, broadcast, at least partly, on both Radio 1 and 2. 

'The JY Prog', as it became, migrated to a new home at Radio 2 in 73, with cautious programme management insisting that no interview begin until 15 minutes of the programme had elapsed. The programme's familiar sig tune, 'TownTalk' by Ken Woodman & His Piccadilly Brass, signaled the start of lunchtimes to 'seven and a half million housewives' in kitchens in the Home Counties.  

The vari-speeded ‘What’s the recipe today Jim’ was as much a part of national radio folklore back then as Ken Bruce’s PopMaster is now. 

Music-magazine programmes can work on radio, but only in the most capable of hands. Mixing real current affairs with jolly pop songs and chit chat is an art – and Jimmy had it - moving effortlessly from Carpenters to Cold War and colanders. The programme quickly acquired a reputation as the one politicians wanted to be on. In February 1975, Margaret Thatcher afforded her first interview as party leader to chirpy Jim.  JY’s show served huge audiences with insight into the issues of the day; albeit in a very different way from his successor, the excellent Jeremy Vine.

Little wonder his longevity in the national limelight and his reputation amongst those who matter earned him recognition at the Palace.  He was awarded the OBE in 1979, the CBE in 1993 and the Knight Bachelor of the Order of the British Empire in the 2002 Queen's New Year's Honours List for his services to broadcasting.

This gentleman broadcaster was a quiet, professional sort, who achieved huge audiences with a consistently successful radio programme for which he will be long-remembered. 

Bye - for now - Jim.

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National Digital Radio - The Future

I calculate I have nineteen DAB radios.  It’s a little over the top I know.  Hats off to Hertfordshire’s Pure for doing some great early running on the sets; and to Yorkshire’s Roberts for their sturdy classics.  And to Psion for coming up with their spiky PC peripheral Wavefinder; and to Wayne Hemingway for designing ‘the Bug’, which is still my favourite aesthetically.

It’s all a far cry from 1993 when I sat in the offices of the then regulator, the Radio Authority,  at Holbrook House to be trusted with what would have been one of the first DAB sets.  With components and transformers nailed to a huge plywood board, it hummed nicely and smelt of Scalextrix.

Life’s moved on since then, and after a slower start than most had hoped, DAB is now attracting a quarter of all radio listening across the UK (RAJAR W3 2014, Ipsos-Mori, UK TSA).  With the recent brand extensions being spawned on the first national multiplex, Digital One, which is now populated like a student house, one feels, at last, that the time of DAB has come. 

Now, the second national multiplex is imminent; and, at last, this country is poised to enjoy the sort of   broadcast listening choice which has been denied to us for years.  Given the small geographic size of our populous country, we have not been able to re-use FM frequencies to the extent they have in other countries.

Clearly, with my day job being at Orion Media, I’m hugely excited about our own ‘Listen2Digital’ bid to operate that multiplex, which was duly dropped off yesterday at Riverside House.  The USB stick in a sturdy manila envelope does not physically seem to do justice to the sweat and toil which went into assembling the pages of the formal application document over many, many, months.  If you’ve ever assembled a licence application, you know it feels like the A Level exam from hell.

We evidently think it’s a compelling case, and across the piste it offers a fresh new approach for national DAB radio, both in terms of the players involved and the services.  We think the public proposals are exciting; and we hope Ofcom also nods vigorously at some of the format details we have submitted in confidence which, frustratingly yet thoroughly understandably, we cannot yet speak publicly about at this stage.  I should say a big well done too to the other parties involved in the consortium: the mighty Babcock, who’ll be assembling the transmission infrastructure, and our good friends at Folder Media and Sabras.

The other great news is that Gem, currently our East Midlands FM AC service, would go

national, as one of our 18 proposed services.  There is no AC brand on national commercial DAB at present, with Heart operating only on local DAB, so its service is not taken into account as the applications are judged by the regulator.  AC is, therefore, a gaping hole in national provision and we reckon we’ve got the very best answer to it.  The AC audience also sits in the female 25-44 commercial hot-spot, helping to ensure the success of our business, and contribute to much-needed growth and stability for DAB.

Adult Contemporary proved of huge appeal in our extensive national research.  It is a hugely popular format across the World; and it’s strange to believe that it did not really arrive in the UK until our Chairman, Phil Riley, launched the Heart brand in the West Midlands in 1994.  He had hair back then, as he started his 13 year tenure running the format, so it’s no surprise he knows what he’s doing in arguing the AC case with our investors.  Maybe we should have roadsigns at the edge of all our cities, East and West, suggesting that the Midlands is the birthplace of the AC format in the UK.  I’ll get my paintbrush out.   

I’m personally hugely proud, not least because I’m a Nottingham lad.  In three years, Gem has achieved huge East Midlands success, becoming market leader by hours in several audience sweeps, and beating all audience levels for any station ever on that 106 FM frequency.  Let’s remember that 106 was a love-child in so many acquisitions, and being batted from owner to owner, it has operated variously as Radio 106, Century and Heart.  We have done well, despite good old Heart remaining on DAB in the patch and no TV platform for Gem.

It’s won because it’s a great product, and Mike Newman and the team there, including Naomi Robson and Andy Price heading the marketing efforts deserve plaudits.  They’ve built an AC format with real spirit, and one commanding real engagement, judging by all the qualitative research and feedback we garner.  It already has the polish of a national brand.

Sam & Amy have played a great part too, aided by Dangerous Dave and produced by Paul Iliffe.  That show has turned into a national treasure, carrying off Radio Academy awards in categories populated otherwise by indignant London and national names. The real crown just has to be that ‘Personality of the Year’ award last year.  The programme is British breakfast radio at its best; and we look forward to twisting a version of that product round for the national service.

May we plead that Ofcom put all else to one side and make this licence award as quickly as possible. We’re anxious to get on with the job.

What is radio?

I remember taking a call on-air one Mothering Sunday from a women who said I'd made her cry.

There she was, at the bottom of the garden  pruning her flowers, telling me she'd cried when she'd heard a single dad call in earlier. He'd related the story that his daughters had sent him a Mothers Day card to say he'd, effectively, been the best mother they could have wished for.  The women explained that she'd lost her husband a fortnight before, and not allowed herself to mourn; yet the unrelated tale on-air from a chap she'd never met left her shedding the tears she so needed to cry.   As is so often the case with grief, it is displaced and hits you when you least expect. 

How incredible it is that it was the mass broadcast medium of radio which brought out the Kleenex that sunny Sunday morning.  For her, this was not about radio, this was about a friend in her life. Talking to her. Connecting. Being there.

I am not the only person in radio who's received calls from listeners on the darkest days of their lives .  When it seems there is no-one else they feel they can open up to; they choose radio.  Sometimes a presenter they relate to, but other times just a random text to 'the station'.  And it's  just as often a music station as not.  

A few years ago, I called a listener back off-air who was caught up in a terrible situation and threatening a dramatic exit.  I listened; and thankfully was able to help those better qualified than me track her down to assist.  About a year later, she called again, sounding bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to say thanks.  Radio had helped her to get her life together.

Maybe the best definition of radio is as a friend.  Yes, it may sound like a hackneyed word from a 1980s jingle package, but it's as true now as it was then.  Chris Moyles' 21st Century audience would readily have viewed him as their 'mate'.  It enjoys that peculiar position  of feeling utterly close and personal; whilst dirty great big aerials pump out its charm efficiently to millions at low cost.

Radio is not always about helping you through tough times.  But is that not like a friend too?

Good friends are sometimes serious, sometimes not.  The best ones are life and soul of your party, yet also there to fetch you from the airport at 5 am in your hour of need.  Most research suggests that the key driver for much radio listening is that it 'lifts my mood', but there is also that reassurance that if you need to know anything, the trusted radio will tell you.  Until that time, you can relax knowing the world is well.  Just like friends,  sometimes the relationship is intense; other times they are just there.  Rather like the contrast between active late night or breakfast radio; and more passive daytime.  

Aren't the greatest friendships in life the ones where, even after months apart, the conversation flows as if you last saw them the day before?  You pick up as you left off.  That is a beauty of radio: it's always there; and the formatics ensure you know the station's personality will be the same next time you bump into it.  

In any definition of radio, real-time might be one important factor.  Most radio is consumed as it is broadcast.  Even wholly voice-tracked stations enjoy a sense of time and place.

This emotional, accessible medium also connects.  So much great breakfast radio today is about story-telling.  A person on the radio will share the ups and downs of their own life and their listener will relate.  Few radio presenters portray themselves as perfect.  Ask Paula White.   

A friend introduces you to things too: a new trend, film, fashion or song. That's another of radio's great qualities. In a world of ever-growing choice, we need someone to guide us through. To help us marshal our music listening and harvest our news.  It's great arriving in a new city, but much better if there's someone to show you round.  Even the cleanest of formats have a friendly voice and someone who seems to know the sorts of songs you like. 

This is a friend which lives and breathes. It has a spirit. A character. And a name.

It's interesting that when looks at the biggest media stories on the last decade, for good or for ill, they are about radio.  Whether the Andrew Gilligan Radio 4 interview; the Ross/Brand debacle; or the Royal 'prank call', they are about radio.  When the DG of the BBC resigned, it was probably the Radio 4 interview by Humphrys which was credited with being one of the final pieces in that uncomfortable jigsaw.  A hundred years on and the medium of radio remains the one which creates the headlines.  The unwashed simplicity and agility of the medium combine to great effect; and in the interview situation, the intimacy through the single dimension of voice exposes the truth effortlessly.

Every day, every presenter will connect  with their audience.  Sometimes that connection is a smile.  Very frequently too, it's a tangible response, a phone call, a text, or a social media exchange.  Pick up any listener email today and study the language.  It is the language of a friend writing to a friend.  Yes, the talk stations will generate probably more response, but good music presenters on decent stations now will readily agree that they have a friendship with their audience.  And their audience would agree.

As the world changes, it's certain that others will indeed trespass in radio's garden, just as TV once did.  There will be a shift, but as the Observer newspaper correctly said of radio in 1953 after TV's Coronation coverage "For sound radio, no flowers yet".  Many of us recall the scare stories when the primary-coloured breakfast TV kicked in back in 1983.   At the time of ILR's inception, there was also the fear of the radio-cassette player.  But, it's tough still to envisage a total substitute for a medium which 90% of people consume for over 20 hours a week, given the affection listeners show towards their radio. 

Sometimes when one struggles for a definition, it's useful to consider the inverse. What radio isn't.  Or maybe how much you'd miss it if it wasn't there.  Ask any programme director who's dared to change a schedule, presenter or station name, or close a station to proffer an answer to that.    

The question of 'what is radio' falls into ever sharper focus as music streaming services multiply and press and conference coverage amplifies their existence.  Maybe there is no clear answer to the conundrum.  Is a flow of great songs streamed at will radio or not? Is the Media Guardian's elegant podcast a radio programme or not?  

Just maybe there is no glib black and white answer.  Just as Freud suggested that sexuality lay on a continuum, maybe radio is the same.  Some sorts of sound are just more like radio than others. 

Consider too the dictionary definition of radio remains about carriage not content.  We have, however, chosen to adopt the word 'radio' as shorthand for 'radio programming'.  Maybe, today, we should frame a new definition for submission to the OED.

The contradictions of radio are likely part of its attraction. It's perfect, yet imperfect; surprising, yet consistent; active, yet passive; talking, yet musical; amusing, yet serious; personal, yet huge; trite yet life-saving.  It's a friend and it's alive.

Read too Phil Riley's blog. Should we be worried about Apple?
And Mark Barber's analysis (RAB) of 'how to tell if your streamed music service is radio'.