And here's this week's Number One...

In our school, bringing in a radio was an offence for which you could be hanged. It was even more serious than wearing platform shoes or the wrong colour shirt.  Nevertheless, just as in totalitarian states, we ignored the law because radio meant so much.

Admittedly, we only risked the wrath so we could hear the chart, rather than the latest news from the Empire. This was a period when Tuesday lunchtime was sacred. Paul Burnett would effortlessly run down the BRAND NEW chart.  

Anxious to hear who was up and who was down, we would assemble in frozen huddles, rather hoping the marauding teachers would pursue the smell of smoke from neighbouring miscreants rather than the sound of JAM jingles from our small crowd.

Back then, blackberries, apples and oranges were confined to orchards; and radio was the only way to get the news. 

Having caught the update between Geography and double Maths on a Tuesday, we could then look forward to Sunday.   It was actually the only exciting thing about a day on which all shops were closed; the lukewarm weekly bath was taken; and that back to school feeling would hit the pit of the stomach when the miserable theme tune to 'Sing Something Simple' rang out as you searched for your PE kit.

6.00 pipped, and mother busied herself ironing and prepared to watch 'Upstairs Downstairs'.  Meanwhile, in our icy bedrooms, we would crank up the radio to enjoy the FULL Top 20. It was broadcast in stereo.  Not that anyone had a stereo radio, but mono FM was certainly better than AM.  Back then, Radio 1 was not on FM, but hijacked Radio 2’s frequencies on occasions at the weekend, presumably when the Light's delirious management had gone home for a sherry.

Like Blue Peter presenters, you can tell someone’s age by the chart show presenter they loved the most.  Some respected radio brethren go dewy-eyed at the words ‘Bruno Brookes’. Others wet themselves if anyone mentions Tom Browne.

Sunday evening was self-evidently inspired scheduling for the chart.  It had not always been thus. When Alan Dell first took a Biro to a copy of the music press in 1957 and ran down the numbers that matter most, it was scheduled late on a Sunday night.   

David Jacobs then started to assemble something more akin to our current chart, broadcast on Saturdays, before AlanFreeman barged in and appeared to prefer to work Sunday teatimes.  From that moment, whatever its name or the programme in which it was housed, the ‘chart’ has been part of our Sunday evening ritual.

The BBC possibly thought, with good cause, that the fragmented commercial radio network would never be able to assemble  a nation-wide chart offering.  Some stations had charts. Some did not.  Trent in Nottingham was allergic to anything resembling chart shows in its early ‘credible’ era, before eventually installing one which peculiarly began with the Number One.

Eventually, commercial radio’s trade body (then the Association of Independent Radio Contractors) played Kofi Annan and co-ordinated a 'Network Chart' chart offering across the commercial network of stations.  Back then, networking was rare across any stations, let alone the whole country. 

In those pre-satellite days, the chart was originally despatched down the mono ‘IRN line’, so it sounded little better than ‘Dial a Disc’ (Ask your granny about dial a disc).

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David ’Kid’ Jensen was its first host, known as a ‘national name’ from his time at Radio Luxembourg  and BBC Radio 1.  Nescafe was to be its first major sponsor, although the coffee folk could not be mentioned in the programme title itself. The programme evolved, as the sponsor changed, to the Pepsi Network Chart, to the Pepsi Chart and then hit40Uk and now the Big Top 40.

It worked though. The commercial radio chart is now bigger than the BBC’s. Both are huge. 569,000 adults tune in as the BBC’s chart begins, with another 68,000 runny-nosed kids eavesdropping too.

There are few mass-appeal destination shows now on British music radio.  The days of gathering round to listen to ‘Music Whilst You Work’ are long gone.  The chart show remains the single best known appointment to listen.  It's ironic that maybe the only other is 'Pick of the Pops' on Radio 2, a retro version of the chart itself, bearing an original name.

If the BBC do re-paint this national treasure, I wish them well.  The great thing about BBC radio is that it can be first to try stuff out, without risking millions in revenue.  Rightly, their decision will be unaffected by my fond ramblings above and more influenced by the tastes and interests of a complex and savvy new generation. It would be an unnecessary cheap gag to suggest that some of those listeners nowadays would find counting to 40 a challenge.

Sunday night is a time when people are available to listen to radio, and that possibly means more than being ‘first’.  In the short term, I imagine commercial radio would benefit from the displaced audiences.  The new flavour of BBC chart would, however, find an important new place in a new generation's heart and would likely still be the one the TV shows come to when they want to do a piece about the Christmas Number One.

Presenting a chart well must merit a mention some loud applause here. It demands huge delivery skill, precision and rhythm. Maybe not quite as much skill as in bygone years, when one had to find the records, time them, then add up all their durations, and those of the ads, on the back of an envelope. 

View image | gettyimages.com

Every word counts.  As I played back Simon Bates's first Top 40, aired in November 1978, I observed he boomed 'This week's British..." before playing the 'Britain's Number One' jingle.  With a smile, I noted in the write up that he would have kicked himself for doing that.  He tweeted to let me know he had. Let it go, Simon. Let it go.

Whilst radio will remain powerful and special for a good few generations yet, I cannot help feeling that no 15 year old would ever bother breaking a rule for it nowadays.  What I am sure of, however, is that this very Sunday, some teenager would have listened to Marvin Humes or Clara Amfo and thought "that's what i want to do when i grow up".

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Hashtag Hell

“On breakfast this morning Matthew Gudgin wants to know do you think department stores should have more seating?”, announced my Twitter feed.

I’ve a story on that very topic.  I was in John Lewis the other day, and my legs almost gave way. Luckily there was a soft red chair a few feet away and I struggled to it. Not sure what I’d have done otherwise.

Actually, I just made up that compelling, dramatic tale.  But the Tweet is real enough, courtesy of Radio Norfolk.

BBC Local Radio Tweets are becoming an art-form. Norfolk often excels at rhetoric:

"Good morning! At breakfast today - rail fares are going up again. Is that fair? Do you get good value for money?"

Presumably, some furious listeners rang in to say it was disgraceful. Maybe a few even called to say they were quite happy, and roll on more increases. Who knows.

I do like the cheery salutations too, despite what follows:

"Good morning! At breakfast - have you ever been burgled? What affect does it have on your life?" (‘scuse spelling)

And a very good morning to you too.  They love that, do BBC Locals.  The false sense of comfy reassurance, then BOOM. Almost Shakespearean:

"Happy Boxing Day. @HarrietScott_ & Chris Rogers presenting breakfast this morning. Talking tube strikes, sales & xmas disasters", suggested BBC London.

Oh no. Thank goodness for the cheery reassurance prompted by others: 

“Worried about the "13" in 2013? The Bishop of Worcester says don't be, in his New year message on BBC H & W facebook page now. “

Phew.  Similarly, BBC Stoke, tempts us with:

“ On the Breakfast Show now...the Chief Exec of @SoTCityCouncil on his first three years in charge”

Then, the station usefully summarises the Chief Exec's appearance with a gentle:

“The chief Executive of Stoke on Trent City Council says the authority is making good progress”

That's nice.  Reminds me of the old ‘is there anything else you’d like to tell us, Minister’, interviewing of the 1950s.

Some stations do excel at Twitter.  Blending the local news and relevant information with genuine engagement.  Making good use of the fact that Twitter is social media,  not a broadcaster.  And one can observe easily the accounts which are well-managed; and where the station chats back to those who comment on its programmes or policies.  

The other great thing about excellent Twitter use is that it can harvest information; and sometimes you can prod that process with a stick, as did BBC Stoke:

“There's a fire at a Cattery on the A34 between Stafford and Cannock. Qasa is on his way but any updates would be great!”

Miaow. One expects, of course, that only a significant lonely and atypical minority of the stations' target audiences are likely on Twitter currently; and the medium is, therefore, probably best used 'business-facing' at present, rather than 'consumer-facing'.  Ergo, to receive information and investigate, rather than to address listeners at large.  Accordingly, to make a song and dance about Twitter on-air probably suggests a station which misunderstands its audience.

Some stations do excel at teasing, though; and one cannot but help reach for the wireless knob when BBC Radio Manchester ‏tempts us with:

“Nxt, a blind author from Stockport tells us how he ended up on a balcony wearing nothing but his pants. And he's a#WorldRecordHolder!”

Sometimes, despite the fairly routine minor story unfolding, there is a sense of urgency  to the plea to listen.  An illustration from BBC Leicester:

“It's hoped a new plan to solve a dispute over the use of a former scout hut in Leicester will bring months of protests to an end.104.9FM now”

NOW! Goodness.  Don’t miss it.  Do as you are told. 

In some stations, the Managing Editors appear to be busy assembling torrents of news Tweets on their private accounts; which the station account re-Tweets. I’m not awfully sure whether they should be busy managing or something instead.  They are the sorts of stations which just have news on their feed.  No chitter- chatter, oh no, just: ‘Bar stabbing victim 'improving'.

It might be argued that station accounts should reflect something of the rich character and conversation of the station, rather than just shouting news headlines.  Without going as far as pointless jolly tripe.  Just doing news Tweets is rather like someone just popping up from behind the cushion and shouting news headlines at you; before retreating. Without so much as a 'by your leave', as I think they say in Coronation Street.

BBC Stoke likes to go overboard with a few pleasantries:   “Have a good friday!”

They also trouble to offer up those crucial titbits, without which we’d be lost:

“A Staffordshire German Shepherd has been named the top police dog in the country.”

Some of the detailed info proffered sounds mundane;  but for some listeners it’s actually going to be useful. Knock this if you like, but you’d be wrong to:

“#SOLENTTRAVEL:Work at Newport bus station from 9.00am. Bus route 1 then goes from Stand A. Temp stop opp Morrisons for 2, 3, 6, & 8. Judy”

Mind you, listening to BBC Solent does, on occasions sound demanding:

“What were you doing 20, 30 or 40 years ago this month? The Cartridge years areJan 1973, 1983 & 1993 from 2 “

Goodness.  How many memories have I got to think up? It may take me some time.  They should pay ME the licence fee.

Compare that with the more engaging: 

"Harry Worth was in panto @RoyalNottingham and this is Kirkby Bentinck station in our Golden Year @BBCNottingham from 12 pic.twitter.com/v15xJBX8"

Now, let's just celebrate; with cheery BBC Stoke:

“Morning All! Stuart & Katy with you for Breakfast and Katy's brought her camera!  pic.twitter.com/h0fyMEAt “

Katy looks pleasant enough; and there was probably a back-story for her having a camera; of which I am ignorant.

Then there’s there’s the international incident which opens up scope for parallel listener tales:   ‘X has happened, and we want your stories’, sort of thing.   Witness the strategy of consultant, Valerie Geller.  She used to suggest that few people are particularly interested in opinions, but everyone likes to poke their nose into a story.  She might have a point. After all, are any vox-pops remotely interesting or illuminating, unless there’s a funny one at the end?  So, the thinking goes that  whatever has happened, you MUST have a related personal story.

BBC WM takes this to the max; and if I were offering awards, they would win:

“An American family forgot to bury Grandma 17 years ago and had left her in a storage unit! Have you ever forgotten something? 08453 00 99 56.”

It did prompt some response tweets, with tongue firmly in cheek, from @Ian64:

“Every day, people wake up or go to bed. Have you ever done it, or know people who have? We'd like to hear from you. 08453 00 99 56”

WM had the graciousness and self-deprecating good humour to re-Tweet.

I shall actually leave the final word to Ian too:

“Have you ever rang Radio WM? If so, why not call us and tell us why you did it in the first place? 08453 00 99 56.”

My more serious Twitter observations here.
And do check www.davidlloydradio.com too.
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Listeners are allowed to be awkward

Wearing a long beige coat, his face wrinkled with annoyance, he was clearly not happy we had made some changes at the radio station. So annoyed, he’d popped into reception personally to tell us off and inform us he was about to write to his MP. We were a public service and we’d let him down. By changing.

Listeners are demanding. I remember once, having introduced some major changes on a format, getting angry calls from listeners saying ‘What have you done to my radio station’. Calls tantamount to a landlord ringing his tenant in disbelief on learning the tenant has just knocked down the living room wall.  We are but temporary custodians of someone’s else’s property - their radio station. Each call started with the words: ‘I’ve been listening to station X for Y years’; I could even recite their script before they started.  Whilst temporarily distracting, the calls must actually be a comfort to us: such listeners genuinely feel we belong to them.  We are part of their lives; part of their family.

One listener some years ago once wrote to me about a presenter change.  She hated the new presenter.  She told me he had offended her 13 times so far on the day she wrote.  I pictured her, sat with a chewed HB pencil gripped in hand, crossing off another strike on the third five bar gate on her Basildon Bond notepad.  A former colleague related to me too the story of the listener who could not believe that a programme time had been changed – she had always had her Sunday bath accompanied by this show. I think he gently suggested she revise the timing of her ablutions instead. Isn’t it flattering, though, that listeners believe that the station is for them alone - as, actually, that is exactly what we suggest to every broadcaster: you are speaking to one person.  Mind you, be careful who that one listener is: I recall the tale of one brand change years ago when a listener had a coffin delivered to the station boss.  He had killed their station.

The BBC get a few concerned listeners too.  The ‘don’t take Radio 4 off Long Wave’ campaign was reputed to have that famous polite protest where the grey-haired gathered politely outside Broadcasting House to chant: "What do we want? Radio 4. Where do we want it? Long Wave; What do we say? Please”.  And Mark Damazar probably still rues the day when he thought innocently that Radio 4 listeners might prefer to wake up with a little more solid Radio 4 content, rather than a medley of sea shanties.  Don’t mention the UK Theme. Daa, da da da da daah.... Mark later conceded: "I don't regret it but I think I underestimated the fact that I was causing some people considerable pain". Considerable pain?

What of a station closure? I recall tales from my Radio Authority days of the volume of response which the regulator had received on its decision not to re-award the London talk licence to LBC. Was that more or fewer letters than its fellow regulator, the ITC, received about the demise of Thames Television?

As a friend, we are turned to.  Many presenters can cite listeners getting in touch to say: ‘you really helped me’. I cannot be the only programmer who has taken a call from a listener in real danger who reaches to their radio station for help.

Listeners can be demanding of their friend.  We had a major competition once to win a car, or a runner up holiday prize.  The two contestants duly arrived, one happy and great to be with; the second, a career competitor, who simply wanted the prize.  That’s fine, I guess.  Should we really expect participants to be sufficiently polite to realise that the fair exchange for a free competition might be to provide us with some entertaining programming?  Thankfully, quite fairly, he did not win.  As you can imagine, he took it in good spirit.  He lodged a complaint that his questions were deliberately harder.  They weren’t - tempting though it would have been.  Nor was he satisfied with the holiday prize, it was in the wrong country.  He demanded we change it as he did not want to go there.

Holiday prizes are often riddled with difficulties.  Listeners who find the stipulated dates inconvenient complain. They argue too if they want to take an extra person because they feel the excess is unreasonable and blame us.  A old colleague reminded me of a Barbados trip winner who looked to the radio station for compensation for her sunburn. 

On a Mystery Sound-type premium-rate competition, one chap rang to complain when he got his phone bill for £400.  I took his call.  His question was simple: ‘what are you going to do about it’.  I asked if he’d heard the cost announcements, which we’d duly carried over and above the statutory minimum.  He had.  I asked if he’d seen the web page on which it was given in large letters.  He had.  I asked him if he was aware that using the phone a lot would cost more money than not using it very often.  He was.  But, no, he was going to ‘go the papers’.  I heard no more of him.

The much-needed clampdown following the outrageous and unfair behaviour by some media has made things worse: the trust in competitions has been eroded. The many of us who would rather die than do a competition unfairly are faced with contestants who presume we are guilty of fiddling until proven otherwise.  Rigorous Ts and Cs are assembled for all competitions, read by no-one until there is a complaint – and then the cleverest person wins. Not a battle of wrong and right; more about semantics. It is not that contestants believe we are in the wrong; some just seem to see the potential for ‘I know my rights’ gain.

No longer can stations easily select the happiest-sounding contestant to play competitions; it must often be the luck of the draw.  But, is it right for us to expect a listener to be fairly cheery when taking part?  No, on paper.  But in some ways, is it not like you inviting someone to your party, offering them free food and drink, and then having to accept they sit in the corner looking utterly miserable? Maybe we should have terms and conditions which demand a hint of happiness.  Chris Moyles tries:

“Each day, a shortlist of entrants will be randomly selected from all those who have registered within the past 24 hours. They will be telephoned by a member of the production team who will ask them 3 questions about the Chris Moyles Show and questions about their hobbies and interests to assess their suitability for taking part in the quiz”

And then, just to make sure:

“Given the nature of the quiz, which is solely for entertainment purposes, and the style of the presenter, contestants should be aware that the presenter might help one or other of the contestants.”

We know radio is special.  I’m sure we all go the extra mile, calling back listeners personally when they are aggrieved; and helping them where we can.  Suggesting alternative programmes, or even helping them retune their radios.  It’s right that we do.  It truly is tough to please all the people all of the time.

The day listeners stop moaning at us and stop expecting us to be utterly beyond reproach  - and stop us wanting to please them and them alone  - is the day we should start to worry.