Face For Radio

Too Much Sex & Violence #3 is almost upon us. To keep you going in the meantime, here's a little strip me and Chev put together last year for The Sorry Entertainer anthology. Click the image to read it full screen. Enjoy, pop-pickers!

Book Review: I, Patridge by Alan Partridge

There were sections of Alan Patridge's autobiography (ghost-written by Rob & Neil Gibbons, Steve Coogan and Armanda Iannucci) which I found heartbreakingly sad. The foreword, for example, is little more than a bland employer's reference which describes our hero as "honest and trustworthy... a relatively good ambassador for the station... with an average of 1.5 sick days taken per year of employment". The joke, of course, is that for all Alan's supposed celebrity pals (Bill Oddie and Sue Cook among them), the best he can get anyone to write about the chronicle of his life is "I would have no hesitation in recommending him". That's funny, yes, but I also find it terribly pathetic (in all possible definitions of that word), and it's that pathos which makes the character of Alan Patridge more than just an egomaniac media monster. It makes him tragically real. Especially for someone who's worked in the awful industry of local radio where Alan has spent the majority of his career since he "shot a man through the heart with a gun" on the final episode of his ill-fated BBC TV chat show.

I, Partridge is a hilarious pastiche of the kind of woeful celebrity memoir that clogs the bestseller lists around Christmas, and like many such books it's most successful in the earlier chapters (revealing insight's into Alan's childhood) and the mid-section (the material already immortalised in Alan's various TV outings). The gags-per-page ratio drops towards the end as Alan's career slumps further into obscurity as mid-morning present on North Norfolk Digital (North Norfolk's Best Music Mix), but there are some very funny moments along the way and plenty of hideously overwitten prose. My favourite bit was the blackly comic role call of young Alan's first radio comrades, including...

Brian Golding. 'Bonkers' Bri combined a wacky sense of humour with a genuine mental illness and went on to co-host Drive Time on Signal Radio before killing himself in 1991.

There's something to Alan's pompous, self-important tone that makes me cringe for myself too. Reading his book comes a little too close to reading a really bad blog (say, for example, this one). He's even included his own playlist, to be enjoyed during specific chapters, featuring all the usual suspects (Midge Ure, Fleetwood Mac, Classix Nouveau, and, of course, Abba) having long since reached "a startling but unshakeable conclusion: no genuinely good music has been created since 1988". It almost me want to chuck in blogging and go find something less embarrassing to do with my time. Maybe we've all got a little bit of Alan in us...

Comfort & Joy

I won't lie to you: it's been a rough year here at SOS Towers. Losing my job, crashing my car, having to watch Green Lantern, Transformers 3 and Season Of The Witch... that'll take the spring out of your step and right. I've had stress, sleepless nights and moments where I've just plain broken down and sobbed into my porridge. But no matter how miserable I've felt, there are some things which always give me comfort. This post is a tribute to those...

1. Coffee Shops.

Obviously, the coffee itself is important here, but there's also something hugely comforting about taking time out from your day to sit in a coffee shop and watch the world go by. It feels like a special treat and makes me feel sophisticated and adult: something I'm especially grateful for after sitting in an anonymous cattle queue at the Job Centre. Coffee Shop Culture gets a lot of stick, but I think it's one of the true advances in our society. When I was a student first time round, our only options were pubs and grubby cafes. The rise of coffee shops make me think there's hope for civilization after all.

2. Alex Lester on Radio 2.

I tend to sleep with headphones on, tuned to Radio 2. It helps me gets to sleep and if I wake during the night it helps me get back to sleep. It gives me something to think about and distract my mind in the wee small hours when problems always seem far worse than they might actually be. 3am is the worst time to find yourself lying away with an over-active imagination, so thank god for Alex Lester on Radio 2. An amusing, genuine and inoffensive jock who plays a good variety of music and helps keep me from despair. See also Huey Morgan, Bob Harris and Richard Allison on a weekend. And Chris Evans for making me want to switch off the radio and get up as soon as it's morning.

3. Mum & Dad

They say you appreciate your parents more as you get older. I appreciate mine more every time I see them.

4. Comics

Though I can't afford as many of them as I once did, the ones I do buy, take from the library or re-read from my rapidly dwindling collection in the attic continue to give me solace. From the wonderful, warm nostalgia buzz of rediscovering comics from my youth to the rare examples of uncynical mainstream books (thank god for Dan Slott's Amazing Spider-Man!) to all the wonderful home-made small press books I continue to discover and champion. I still love reading novels and listening to music, even watching TV... but nothing calms my mind last thing at night like a good comic.

5. Writing

It's still there. Whenever I get the chance. Not as often as I might wish, but writing has always helped me sort out my thoughts and put things in perspective. Even blogging helps, but the real peace comes from writing fiction. Hopefully I'll continue to be able to steal time to write, whatever else life throws at me, it's the only thing that keeps me sane.

What gives you comfort no matter what...?

The Sorry Entertainer

The Sorry Entertainer is a newsprint anthology of comic strips from an international group of creators, compiled by editor Simon Moreton. It includes a half-page strip called FACE FOR RADIO by me and Chev, along with many other excellent diversions.

Find out more and buy yourself a copy for just £1.20 by clicking here.

Everyone's A Critic And Most People Are DJs...

As I've mentioned before (should I start every blogpost with those words from now on?), I have some very good friends who are DJs. They do tend to be the exceptions though. They tend to be pretty normal people who just happen to like playing records and talking in between. They're not arrogant, vain bullshit merchants with rampant egos, hugely mixed up inferiority / superiority complexes and sadistic BO. No, that's just all the DJs who aren't my friends.

You might think that avoiding annoying DJs is easy - just don't turn on your radio when they're on. But it's not that simple. Recent restructuring in the radio industry has meant loads of despicable waffle-merchants having to seek other forms of employment... and now you never know where you're going to bump into one. Take this phone call I had from my insurance company this lunchtime...

(Names have been changed to protect the idiots.)

"Mr. Hirst? Hi, it's Bob from Waste Your Money Insurance here. I'm just calling to tell you about some great new policies you might be interested in..."

"OK, Bob, but I am at work at the moment - I can't really talk..."

"Don't worry, it won't take long. At work, eh? I understand you work in radio... I used to work in radio myself, you know? A little station down in London - I was on air too..."

"Really?"

"Yes, Death Of The Soul FM - do you know it? It started out as a hospital station but then it went online. I'm hoping to get back into it actually. I've got an application in at the moment..."

"Good for you. I really--"

"But I'm based in Glasgow at the moment. Still, there are plenty of stations up here too. One of the biggest radio groups - Crass'n'all - they've got new studios just down the road from here. I pop in sometimes on my way home from work, just to remind them I'm here if they need me. Out of sight, out of mind - so the opposite must apply too, eh?"

"Yes, I suppose. Do you mind if I--?"

"I'm not limiting my options though, I've also got an application in with KWRAP Cincinatti - that's actually one of the biggest Country Music stations in the US, did you know that? They only broadcast to about 20 different states. Radio's big business over in America, you know, the starting salary for a DJ over there is like $20 million, but if you can get into it--"

"Well, good luck with that--"

"I'm on the waiting list - though it can take up to ten years to get an interview. I'm only 50 though, so there's still time before I retire, eh? For an opportunity like that... well, you don't mind waiting, do you?"

I could feel my life slowly ebbing away. The only thing that stopped me from being a little firmer in my interruption was the sure and certain knowledge that as soon as he stopped talking about himself... he'd start trying to sell me insurance.

(From Almost Killed Me)


And finally for today... another cute cat pic. This is Wispa (who you've already met) and Murphy. Wispa and Murphy are in love, though sometimes Murphy is more in love with biscuits. They're both good as gold whenever Louise as around... but the second she steps out of the house, they show their true colours. Here's what they really think of me...

Good Morning Nantwich

I never listened to Phil Jupitus's 6 Music breakfast show because up until very recently I didn't have access to a digital radio. It seems not that many other people listened to it either, if we're to believe Jupitus, but then it did run in the early days of digital, and long before the recent 6 Music Renaissance. I was however interested to read his experiences of working in radio, because he's passionate about a wide variety of music styles and outpoken against playlist radio...

"I am stunned that modern radio is still so reliant on computer-selected, pre-programmed playlists. I can understand the appeal of this on a chart-based station, but what was the point of hiring somebody with an extensive knowledge of music as well as a none-too-shabby record and CD collection and then not letting them use either facility?"

Throughout his time at 6, Jupitus continually butted heads with his bosses about the music he was allowed to play on his show. I guess for a station that was allegedly championing new and alternative music, the desire to play Coldplay every hour was still strong...

"I loved the chaotic slalom of John Peel's musical selections... I saw no reason why I shouldn't play 'I Enjoy Being A Girl' (by Peggy Lee) and immediately follow it up with 'Staring At The Rude Boys' (by The Ruts). Surely any half decent radio show should thrive on this kind of wilful eclecticism? Just because you play contrasting musical styles from decades apart is no reason people should tune out, and if they do, then bollocks to them."

Personally, I've always believed there's space on the airwaves for a station as diverse as the one Jupitus dreamed he'd be working at... but it seems the people in charge believe otherwise. Jupitus even begins to doubt the potential of such a business model himself as the book goes on (though he does offer home-produced internet radio up as the medium's one potential saviour).

As well as unimaginative music policies, Jupitus also has much to say about radio presentation styles. The most enjoyable chapter in the book comes when the author forces himself to sit through an entire 4 hour local radio breakfast show... can his sanity survive?

"The shouty breakfast shows all appear to be predicated on deceit... Who decided that people who played records on the radio should evolve such an absurd style of speech? How can the people who do it even begin to think that it is a normal way to behave?"

In the end, the comedian, writer and TV presenter is forced to conclude that radio is not for him. Like many who have worked in the industry, the restrictions on creativity and individuality prove just too much.

"I loved deejaying but hated being a deejay... I took it all too personally and too seriously. I found playlist radio an anathema, and still do to this day."

Back in 1993, I created a comic called The Jock in which a group of rebel DJs fought to stop a faceless corporation called Yourent taking over radio and conquering the world with their bland, mind-controlling muzak. Almost 20 years later, that book now seems archaic. Yourent won. And the Jock wasn't the only loser...

Friday Flash - Don't Touch That Dial

At last, an all-new Friday Flash short story, rather than just another dip into my greatest hits. The oldest thing here is the title, Don't Touch That Dial, which I've used for a number of speculative projects over the year including a sitcom, a comic strip and a novel. None of those went where I wanted them to, so at least I get to use the title for something.

This story is about DJs, but it shouldn't be seen as a slight against the few good friends I have in that particular profession. It could just as easily have been written about advertising copywriters, though that wouldn't have made for quite as strong a set piece.

I do hope you enjoy it.

Don't Touch That Dial

“Idiots,” said Dean.

“Morons,” said James.

“Idiots!” said Dean again.

“Morons!” came the reply.

“Idiots.”

This would have gone on…

“Morons.”

Much, much longer…

“Idiots.”

Had Hailey not interrupted.

“Guys…?”

They should have known from her tone that she wasn’t in the mood.

“Morons.”

After all, the estate agent had agreed to come out well after her normal working hours to show them round these recently closed studios that Dean and James had visions of buying. They planned to start up their own music- and personality-led radio company that broke away from the tight formats and strict playlists that were strangling all the fun out of an industry they both loved. They weren’t messing around here, they were each prepared to risk their life savings to get this venture off the ground. Radio was in their blood and this was their chance to do it the way they’d always believed it should be done.

“Idiots!”

But, at heart, they were still disc jockeys.

“Morons!”

They’d have happily kept this stupid routine going all night if they thought they could get away with it.

“Guys, please…”

Or at least until someone fed them the straight line they were looking for.

“What are they arguing about?” asked the estate agent. Her name was Meredith and she had high hopes for this evening too. She didn’t mind humouring these egotistical blowhards if it got this blasted radio station off her books once and for all. Six months now she’d been trying to sell these premises, and though she’d had any number of promising enquiries, nobody ever came back for a second visit. Still, there were other ways of making it pay…

Hailey ran a hand down her face with an expression that screamed “I wish you hadn’t asked that question”, but it was too late now.

“We’re arguing about the previous owners of this building,” said Dean, “were they idiots or morons?”

“They actually packed up and handed back the broadcast license to a lucrative business like this - just because they thought the place was haunted?” said James. “Idiots!”

“Morons.” said Dean.

“Well, that was the reason they announced to the press,” said Meredith, turning the key in Friendly FM’s side entrance and hearing the bleep of the alarm from down the corridor. “Rumour has it their advertising sales figures were fine, they just couldn’t get any presenters to stay in the studio for more than two records in a row. I presume you’ve heard what happened to their drivetime DJ?”

“Gary Peters?” said Dean. “We used to work with that boob. Dude couldn’t tie his own shoelaces without an instruction manual.”

“It’s very sad,” said James, “slitting his throat with a broken CD live on air like that – right before the traffic and travel, too - but I refuse to believe it was because he was possessed by some dark satanic force…”

“What was the CD, has anybody asked that?” said Dean. “My betting it was either Simply Red, Phil Collins, Celine Dion or the Lighthouse Family. That was pretty much Friendly FM’s entire playlist right there. I imagine playing the same dated MOR shite day-in day-out would make anyone want to gargle blood… I know it would me.”

“We’ll have a strict No Celine policy when we’re running this place,” said James, “and Phil Collins will be shot on sight.”

“Phil Collins,” said Dean, shaking his head, “what a bunch of morons!”

“Idiots,” said James.

“Morons,” said Dean.

“Idiots!” snapped Meredith as she keyed the code into the alarm box. “Idiots, idiots, idiots! There. It’s decided. Can we let that one rest now?”

James and Dean responded with their best two-scolded-schoolboys faces. Hailey glared at them. “See – I told you to knock it off!” She followed Meredith down the dusty corridor towards the studios.

“I like her,” said Dean.

“You should try being married to her,” said James.

“I don’t mean your wife,” said Dean. “I don’t like your wife.”

“You don’t like my wife?”

“No – I like your wife, I like her just fine.”

“You like my wife?”

“I don’t like-like your wife – she’s your wife. I like and respect her as your wife. But this estate agent lady – Meredith – her I like-like, in ways it wouldn’t ever be appropriate for me to think about Hailey.”

“Probably in ways it wouldn’t ever be appropriate for me to think about Hailey. Since, you know, being married…”

“Such things aren’t appropriate any more?”

“Such things just don’t come up anymore.”

Ahead of them in the corridor, Meredith pulled open the first of the huge soundproofed doors, letting Hailey hold it while she pushed through the second. “Well, here we are,” she said, palms up like she was checking for rain, “this is where it all happened.”

As James and Dean followed the two women into the studio, a striking change came over them. Suddenly, they were all business.

“Decent enough desk,” said James, flicking a couple of switches under the mixing desk and brushing dust from between the faders.

“Optimod, Myriad system with built-in Cool-Edit Pro… apparently there’s a half-decent SADie around here somewhere too,” said Dean, checking off the equipment against a list he’d printed off at home.

“I think that’s in the second studio,” said Meredith, recalling this query from a previous viewer.

“At least they cleaned up all the blood,” said Hailey. “In the back of my mind, I had this really gruesome image…”

“Apparently there are people you can hire to do that sort of thing,” said Meredith. “Like CSI, only with scrubbing brushes.” She expected a joke from the jocks in response, but they were lost in their anoraks.

“CDQ Prima codecs, Neumann mikes, Denon CD players…”

“Eleven swans a swimming and a partridge in a pair tree,” said James, slipping the headphones over his head and taking pole position in front of the mic.

“Is this thing on?” said Dean, going round the desk to the guest mic and giving it a one-two tap.

“It is now,” said James, dropping a CD he’d brought along into the player and opening both mic channels. “Come on, mate, let’s take this baby for a ride!”

The intro to Bachman Turner Overdrive’s cheesy 70’s anthem You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet began playing from the monitors and both jocks’ faces lit up with huge grins, turning to catch the reaction from their audience. “Let’s rock!” said Dean.

Meredith favoured them with a polite but confused frown. Hailey – who knew them only too well – remained hands-on-hips non-plussed. Secretly though, she was holding her breath and praying.

“We’re kidding!” said James, switching quickly to the second track on the CD. Song 2 by Blur.

“Woo-hoo!” screamed Dean, expecting the same response from his partner in crime. And that was when it happened.

They all felt it. The temperature dropped by ten degrees, the lights flickered, the monitors crackled and a shadow fell across the desk. Then James started screaming.

Thinking back on it later, Hailey compared the change on her husband’s face to the switch from Bachman to Blur. It was just as sudden, just as jarring, though much less contrived. One second that corny publicity shot grin she’d grown to loathe more with each new day of their marriage. The next, a look of total, wide-eyed hysteria as he tore the cans from his head and stumbled, panicked, away from the desk.

“James?” said Dean, his own grin faltering, “mate, are you…?” And then he saw it too. The scariest thing he’d seen in his whole life.


* * * *

“So… how much did we say?” said Hailey.

“Two fifty,” said Meredith as she reset the alarm.

Hailey counted out the notes. If this had worked out the way she’d heard it did, it’d be worth every penny.

James and Dean were already in the car, sitting together in the back, holding hands and staring into nothing.

“All those wasted years,” said James. “My god, what have we done with our lives?”

“How come we never saw it?” said Dean. “How come we never realised…?”

“My dad wanted me to become a plumber,” said James.

“Gary Peters,” said Dean. “He saw it too, didn’t he? He saw it, and he couldn’t… he…”

The driver’s door opened and Hailey climbed inside.

“I can’t do this anymore, love,” her husband said from the back, his voice breaking, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “I have to get out, I have to get a proper job…”

“We both do,” said Dean. “Retrain or… something. Do something useful with our lives, anything… anything to save us from…”

“I’m so, so sorry,” said James. He was really blubbing now. Hailey’s heart went out to him. She reached over the seat and rested her hand on his shoulder. She hated seeing him like this, but still she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy. Relieved. Like maybe they actually had a chance now…

Meredith watched the three of them drive away while folding the money and putting it away in her bag. Then she checked her mobile. Five new messages, all from the wives or girlfriends or significant others of DJs the length and breadth of the country. Word was getting round.

Forget You!

In an effort to clean up this blog after the tawdry bacchanalia of the last few days, I'm going to refrain from using the F-word around here ever again.

So if you ever catch me using the word 'forget' on this blog again, you have my permission to report me to my good friends at the Mail On Sunday. From now on, just like Cee-Lo Green does on his current Number One Chart Hit, I will endeavour to always replace the word 'forget' with a word that's much less offensive. And if I forget... oh - d'oh!



Full credit to Cee-Lo Green though. I think this is the first Number One Chart Hit I've enjoyed - or even been remotely aware of - through the whole of 2010. Beyond the cheeky hook of the unedited version, it's got a wonderful classic Motown vibe... the lyrics are dripping in bitterness and spite, which is always good... and it's a great song for playing really loud in the car and singing along to when you're stuck in traffic.

30 Songs - Day 17

Day 17 - A Song You Hear Often On The Radio

I don't listen to the radio much. Apart from Mark Radcliffe. And Alex Lester when I can't sleep. Some of you will know why, but it's not something I can discuss here. For the time being.

Many people are critical of local radio stations that only seem to have three songs on their playlist at any one time. One of those three, at the moment, would appear to be this relatively harmless little ditty...



I don't dislike Katy Perry. Every generation needs a decent out-and-out popstar, and she's far less annoying than Lady Gaga. She's sexy in a very obvious and plastic way and does appear to work hard doing what she does. Snoop Dogg is also someone I have a lot of time for. He was great in Monk.

The only problem I have with Katy Perry is her choice in men. There hasn't yet been a deep enough hole dug to cast Russell Brand into for all eternity... but my spade continues to dig.

That said, I still prefer the Beach Boys version.

National Get A Decent Artist Into The Charts Day

My favourite British female singer songwriter is, and has been for a good many years now, Thea Gilmore. She writes smart, incisive lyrics and sings like an angel. She's something of a critical darling, the music press all seem aware of her greatness, yet sadly this has yet to be communicated to the great unwashed. Largely this is because Thea isn't on a major label - and doesn't want to be on a major label. She prefers the creative freedom of being an independent, even though this means she often struggles to get her music played on the radio. Every now and then though the radio takes notice - as it has of her new single, cunningly titled You're The Radio. (A hint to all songwriters - radio is an entirely onanistic industry. It loves to play records about itself.)

So You're The Radio has been A-listed by the UK's biggest national radio station, Radio 2. Having cracked that, Thea's set her sights firmly on the Top 40. But she needs our help. The single is out now and can be downloaded from Amazon for a very modest 79p. So take a listen to the video below, and if you like what you hear... give Thea your support. It's about time we had something worth listening to in the charts again... god, I sound old.

Top 40 Radio Songs

After last week's DJ Top Ten, and in celebration of today's announcement that 6 Music lives, here's a countdown of my favourite radio songs. Turned out when I checked my library there were so many great songs with radio in the title, I had enough for a whole Top 40 - with some left over! Seemed an appropriate enough way of celebrating the evil industry...


40. Roxy Music - Oh Yeah (On The Radio)

39. The Ataris - The Radio Still Sucks

38. Hefner - The Greater London Radio

37. Jane Bond & The UndercoverMen - Radio Moscow

36. Edwin Starr - H.A.P.P.Y Radio

35. Nirvana - Radio Friendly Unit Shifter

34. Robbie Williams - Radio

33. The Vines - Don't Listen To The Radio

32. Black Box Recorder - Factory Radio

31. Everclear - AM Radio

30. George Harrison - Devil's Radio

29. Talking Heads - Radio Head

28. Helen Love - Summer Pop Radio

27. Elvis Costello - Radio Sweetheart

26. The Ataris - Radio #2

25. Jesse Malin - Broken Radio

24. Teenage Fanclub - Radio

23. The Ramones - Do You Remember Rock 'n' Roll Radio?

22. Donna Summer - On The Radio

21. Bruce Springsteen - Radio Nowhere

20. Dead 60s - Riot Radio

19. Jim White - Static On The Radio

18. The Selecter - On My Radio

17. The Clash - This Is Radio Clash

16. Latin Quarter - Radio Africa

15. The Concretes - On The Radio

14. Steve Earle - Satellite Radio

13. Rush - Spirit Of Radio

12. Scissor Sisters - Tits On The Radio

11. Regina Spektor - On The Radio

10. The Wonder Stuff - Radio Ass Kiss

Radio Ass Kiss on the air
Say what you like now no one cares

9. Queen - Radio Gaga

I'd sit alone and watch your light
My only friend through teenage nights

Truer words never sung...

8. Ricky Ross - Radio On

A haunting rarity from Ricky's first solo album.

7. REM - Radio Song

I remember REM purists getting all up in arms about the fact that this song featured a rap by KRS-One. Still, probably better than a rap by Michael Stipe. Unfortunately, 20+ years on, Radio Song has dated rather more than the rest of the album.

6. Tom Robinson - Listen To The Radio / Atmospherics

Tom Robinson was eight years old when he recorded this song. Seriously - just watch the video!

5. Kathleen Edwards - One More Song The Radio Won't Like

Ironically, I discovered Kathleen Edwards through hearing this record on Bob Harris's radio show.

4. Slade - Radio Wall Of Sound

In the early 90's, Slade decided they fancied a crack at the Def Leppard market stateside. They had to sideline Noddy a bit to do though...

3. Ballboy - All The Records On The Radio Are Shite

(Except Mine) sings Ballboy.

Except having the word 'Shite' in your title would probably rule out your chances of getting much airplay... although I did hear someone use the word "shitlist" in a news bulletin on Radio 2 this lunchtime, so anything's possible.

2. Buggles - Video Killed The Radio Star

A timeless classic from Trevor Horn and co... whatever happened to him?

The Presidents Of The United States Of America cover version from The Wedding Singer is always worth a listen too.

As is this rather cool live version by The Wrong Trousers.

1. Elvis Costello - Radio Radio

I've featured this song here before, and I'll probably feature it again...

And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools
Trying to anaesthetise the way that you feel...

With forty songs to choose from, I must have included your favourite radio song... mustn't I?

Top Ten DJ Songs

A long time ago, in a whole other lifetime, I used to write and publish a comic called THE JOCK. In it, a group of rebel DJs fought for freedom and real music in a world where mindless corporate muzak had become the opiate of the masses. A book where the hero was a DJ...? Why not write a comic about a super-powered traffic warden or altruistic ambulance-chasing lawyer while I was at it? No wonder it didn't catch on.

During my 20+ years in the radio industry, I've known a hell of a lot of DJs. Some of them have gone on to fame and fortune, some have gone on to proper jobs. Some have even been intelligent, sincere, modest, warm-hearted and normal. For every Chris Evans, there's a Mark Radcliffe or John Peel. Well, there used to be. The true DJ is a dying breed, for some of the reasons found in song below... here's my tribute.

10. Faithless - God Is A DJ

There are thousands of dance songs about DJs, but most are about club DJs rather than radio. Still, the principle is the same I suppose - someone passionate about music, passionate about sharing that music with the world. Faithless is as close as I ever got to dance music. If my God was a DJ, he'd mostly play songs with real instruments and proper lyrics. I guess I'm just an old-fashioned guy.

9. The View - Wasted Little DJs / Face For Radio

Who knows why Scottish band The View are so obsessed with DJs that they wrote two songs about them on their debut album ? Perhaps it was a ploy to get their records played?

The same record for the 16th time
Exact same set you did the last time round

Hmm... perhaps not.

8. David Bowie - DJ

I am a D.J.
I am what I play
I got believers
Believing me

The DJ as cult (sp?) of ego... as only Mad Dave McMad could do it.

7. Soulwax - Too Many DJs

"Everybody wants to be the DJ" sang Soulwax. Well of course we do. We all believe our own tastes in music are far superior to those of anyone else.

The ironic thing is that Soulwax now seem to far prefer being DJs themselves, rather than actually recording any new records. Which is a shame.

6. Tom Petty - The Last DJ

Back when I started working in radio, I had aspirations to be a presenter myself. Soon after that, free choice was taken away from the majority of jocks and replaced by music testing, focus groups and playlists. That was what spurred me into creating The Jock and convinced me it wasn't the career for me. (Well, that and the fact that I have a shit voice.)

Well you can't turn him into a company man
You can't turn him into a whore
And the boys upstairs just don't understand anymore
Well the top brass don't like him talking so much
And he won't play what they say to play
And he don't want to change what don't need to change
And there goes the last DJ
Who plays what he wants to play
And says what he wants to say
Hey, hey, hey

5. The Hold Steady - Most People Are DJs

Everyone's a critic and most people are DJs

I know it's not what this song is about... but can you come up with a better eight word definition of the internet?

4. Donald Fagen - The Nightfly

Amazingly, I can't find the original of this Donald Fagen classic anywhere on the net. Lots of middle-aged blokes playing it in their bedrooms though...

I'm Lester the Nightfly
Hello Baton Rouge
Won't you turn your radio down
Respect the seven second delay we use

I used to work on a phone-in show. Spent my nights telling people to turn off their radios before they went on air. And calling the police to deal with all the nutters and attempted suicides...

3. Harry Chapin - W*O*L*D*

Harry Chapin. Genius. Three words that should always be used in close proximity.

A plea from an old, drunk DJ to the ex-wife who doesn't want him back...

Got a spot on the top of my head, just begging for a new toupee
And a tire on my gut from sitting on my...
But they're never gonna go away
Sometimes I get this crazy dream
That I just drove off in my car
But you can travel on ten thousand miles and still say where you are
Been thinking that I should stop this jocking
And start that record store
Maybe I could settle down and you'd take me back once more...

2. The Smiths - Panic

Come on, you knew it was coming. You're only surprised it's not number one.

Hang the blessed DJ!

1. Mark Germino - Rex Bob Lowenstein

Tom Petty's isn't the only last DJ. When Hartlanberg's Rex Bob gets told what to play by the boys upstairs, he's locks himself in the studio and goes out fighting.

Now, one day a man in a pinstriped suit
Took the owner of the station to a restaurant booth
His pitch was simple, "you’ll increase your sales
If you only play the song list we send in the mail."

He guaranteed a larger audience
Less confusion and higher points
"But your drive-time jock won’t get to do his thing.
Hey he’s not half bad, tell me, what’s his name?"

For all those wondering what happened to Buggles and Video Killed The Radio Star... I'm saving that for my Radio Top Ten... which is looking more like a Top 40 at the moment. Kinda fitting. In the meantime... what's your favourite DJ song?

30 Songs - Day 7

Day 07 - A Song That Reminds You Of A Certain Event

I haven't forgotten this ongoing musical meme, honestly. Sometimes there just aren't enough blogging days in the week.



I wasn't looking forward to Sunday the 31st of August, 1997. Back then I was working in radio promotions and had been tasked with organising a huge Party In The Park event with loads of shitty pre-X-Factor style boy and girl bands and a humongous crowd of listeners. Worse still, my manager had gone off on holiday and pretty much left me to it. I'd been dreading the event for weeks - so much could go wrong, and it'd all be on my head.

And then, in the early hours of the big day, a Mercedes S-280 crashed in the Pont de l'Alma tunnel in Paris and our event - and along with hundreds more all across the world - was cancelled. Much has been written about the ridiculous levels of public mourning following the death of Princess Diana, but while I bore the woman no ill will, I couldn't help but breath a huge sigh of relief at her timing.

Your Lucky Day In Hell was the third single from the Eels' debut album and many expected it to follow the previous two into the higher reaches of the chart. Unfortunately, it was released the day after Di's death, by which time it had been withdrawn from every playlist in the country as radio stations went into mass panic mode and started playing Elton John 24/7.

Go on, tell me you'd rather hear Candle In The Wind '97...