I wish radio listeners could hear the real show. The funniest, most intriguing best content on earth is nearly almost next to never what’s been delivered between the songs but always when the microphone is off.
If listeners could see, feel and experience a room when three to six or seven Broadcaster’s drop their guard and begin to share…its far better than watching a Fourth of July celebration in New York City.
Radio people have the courage to be so far open scientists are incredibly close to calling it a black hole.
Nobody tries to outperform, over produce, build comedy routines or visually attempt to stimulate strength and passion for the two speaker stage; the channel isn’t formatted and neither are the subjects. Radio performers off the microphone are the missing page on a ninety year old journey that’s been challenged by movies, television, the Ipod, Napster and Pandora.
So what happened? Where are the modern day shapes of Alan Freed, Wolfman Jack, Cousin Bruce Morrow, Larry Lujack, Scott Shannon, John Records Landecker, Murphy in the Morning from Big Ways and countless other thought provoking gut busting pee your pants geniuses that could burp the alphabet while shaking hands with an entire city of radio listeners.
These were just some of the masters that proved radio isn’t about having a brilliant voice that makes you say wow but becoming a voice that made you say wow.
What about the late night Pied Pipers that impatiently waited for their program directors to haul their tails to bed so they could break out the 45’s and albums blessed with true rhythm and blues and not candy coated Pat Boone remakes?
Thirty two chapters in this biz and I whole heartedly praise the days when Bill Conway slapped my ego and shoved my ambitions onto overnights. No ratings meant no rules. Until the night Chuck Boozer woke up and discovered I was playing sound effects and comedy bites from his show and he very professionally said, “Dude…I get what you’re trying to do. I was once there. Just let me know so that I don’t use the same bite three hours after your show.”
That conversation would’ve made great big dents in our constant grind to locate a relationship with listeners. It was real and blessed with enough content that might inspire a normal person to step up to a company coffee pot and say, “Did you happen to catch Arroe getting busted using Boozer’s bits this morning? I’d love to talk to Mike in cubical six about how he keeps stealing my pencils.”
While with the Pam Stone Show 2002-2005, the nationally recognized comedian held nothing back on inviting radio listeners to the true party. Anthony and I would stare at each other knowing every lesson taught by consultants and programmers meant nothing within the doors that separated our worlds. Her loyalty to the people earned two Gracie Allen Awards.
Radio people find no reason to fear unless there are unexpected gatherings in offices much larger than the on-air studio. What becomes of those meetings is usually a key to another opportunity. Legendary radio host Henry Bogan was brutally too honest for the norm. If he liked you, that required a tough message by way of preparing you for the inevitable, “My job is to plug in these earphones at the beginning of the show then wait for them to tell me it’s the last time such a move will happen.”
Show me a radio person that doesn’t have a story and I’ll introduce you to a liar.
Popping open that microphone is an art that you’re called to. Ministers and preachers locate pulpits, radio people find knobs connected to control boards linked to transmitters that mysteriously beam out bouncing sound waves from an imagination most high school teachers labeled a leader but not in common sense.
And yet you never hear of the days when being with invisible people hurts so bad that impossibility melts the music but the Great Inner Voice from distant planets and no formats chooses not to encourage the radio man and woman but rips from the bowels of I can’t do this and gifts the talker with the greatest show ever performed.
The days and nights you kicked yourself so hard because every break sucks so bad is the moment you realize that why you’re there has nothing to do with vanity and everything to do with sharing reality with a passerby you may never meet but for one split second their decision to call it quits stopped them from ending the story.
Have you ever stared into the eyes of a radio person after they’ve changed a human life? A forever mark is left in their soul and true radio people can see it no matter how cloudy the day or bright the sun. Not a word can be shared and within the metallic shell assumed protective a ring is heard when two radio performers pass each other in hall…it’s that ring that radio listeners never get to hear and that’s what’s missing from radio.
If radio is dead why have the voices between the songs lasted longer than Dave Clark, Foghat, The Captain and Tenniel, Duran Duran, Gangsta Hip Hop and Grunge? We’ve learned to adapt to a constantly changing need to become part of your life and style. The city skyline can change, professional sports owners can sell out and schools can keep farming out future leaders but in the end there’s nothing more solid than what radio people bring with them…the passion to invite something else to think about while the rest of the world has whittled away every dream you’ve held.
Before they throw my ashes into the Charleston Harbor I want my wife to whisper only two words, “Thank you.” None of this would’ve ever happened without radio listeners and that’s the part of this business that never makes it to the air because research shows you should’ve been talking about something else.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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