Radiohead

Technology is, on the whole, wonderful.  Take alarm clocks.  Once, an alarm clock was a clockwork thing with a couple of chimes and a hammer that, once a day, went off like a Haribo binging ADHD kid.

Then, advances in technology led to the alarm clock that buzzed, then beeped.

Then there was the apex of alarm clock technology, the Teasmaid.  The Teasmaid not only woke you up with a gentle buzz, but commenced boiling a little kettle at the same time, the idea being that you could have that all-important first cup of tea of the day without all the palaver of having to get out of bed.  This was liberation.  For those who sadly lacked butlers, it was a taste of what having staff was like, and for most, that tasted like PG Tips.

The next great leap sideways was the clock radio.  Instead of a bringggg, a buzz, a beep or a scalding jet of steam, you could be woken by a breakfast radio DJ, now probably safely locked up thanks to Yewtree, prattling nonsense in your ear.

Now, you can buy alarm clocks wake you by slowly increasing the level of light in the room whilst playing soothing sounds like the sea, or birdsong.  This is supposed to ease you into your day rather than provoke the natural reaction, which is to sit bolt upright screaming ‘what the fuck am I doing outdoors?’.

My alarm clock is set to Radio 4, because I like to go from peaceful sleep to enraged and in desperate need of tea as quickly as possible.

It is a habit that I am going to have to break, before I break the radio.  Radio 4 at breakfast time means the ‘Today’ programme and, frankly, I’ve reached the end of my tether with that particular show.  The presenters are so adversarial that my mental image of the studio is not some bland studio at Broadcasting House but a gladiatorial arena carpeted with blood soaked sand.

They really do seem to delight in getting their guests on, asking them a question, interrupting them, belittling them and then, just when the guest has managed to get into a full spluttering rage that promises entertainment, end the interview.  All of this before I’ve managed to wrestle myself out from under the duvet.

No more.  The internet has shown that there is a world wide web of listening choices out there.  Because that most modern of communication technologies, the internet, is revealing the true wonder and extent of that most traditional of communication technologies, radio.

Years ago, if you wanted to listen to radio from other countries, there were two ways of doing so.  You could set up a ham radio station in your shed and spend your spare time going up and down the dial, hoping that atmospheric conditions were such that a radio station in Minsk’s signal would bounce in your direction, or you could travel.

Not now.  I have an app that lets me listen to radio over the internet.  So far, so iPlayer.  But this app lets you browse by location.

Foreign radio is fucking brilliant!

By far my favourite is a Parisian station called Allouette.  Even the adverts are cool.  And DJs are so, so much more tolerable when you don’t understand a bloody word they’re saying.

But why stop there.  African radio is a hoot, as is South American.

And bloody hell, do the Americans love a bit of Christian radio.  In a way, it’s a no-brainer that Christians would have radio stations, it’s like being able to do missionary work without ever having to leave the trailer park.

And there’s so much of it.  I’ve decided.  My days of listening to grumpy old men interrupting one another are over.  No wonder the Today programme presenters are all so grumpy, they have to get up at four in the morning.  I’m going to start listening to radio from different time zones, so that when I’m getting up, I can listen to the mellow sounds of the ‘relax hour’ somewhere where it’s getting dark.  Alternatively, just listen to Radio 3, the most relaxed radio station on the planet at any hour.

The mysterious joy of Radio 3

Digital radios are fantastic.  I remember when I first got one and span up and down the dial (I have yet to adapt to digital terminology) amazed at the sheer number of stations there were out there that programmed soft rock and adverts for air-sprung mattresses. 
Of course, back in the day, one of the most popular stations was ‘test signal’ featuring birdsong, a single track endlessly repeated, which is obviously where ‘Magic FM’ got their programming philosophy from and where Radio 4’s immensely successful ‘tweet of the day’ can trace its genetic heritage to.
The internet, of course, really has opened up the world of radio, allowing one to listen to stations from many nations.  I like to listen to French radio because it makes me feel like I’m on holiday, because hearing Madonna’s hits introduced in French never gets old (unlike Madonna), and because it’s like Eurovision every day.
Given the number of channel choices, presetting presents some difficult decisions.  I like to keep it classic.
1 – Radio 1.  Listening to Radio 1 is a little like visiting a pub that you used to drink at all the time and used to be really great, but has been taken over by a chain, is utterly crap and yet is full of young people drinking stuff you don’t recognise.  You drop by now and again, but leave quickly realising it’s no longer for you, but not before you have picked up enough contemporary cultural references to be able to drop them into conversation with young people to demonstrate that you are still down with the kids.  This is how I learned that ‘Selfie’ was not a new girl band.
2 – Radio 2.  This is where you live now.  Radio 2 used to be as solid and respectable as a granite headstone, but essentially it has gone to hell since Jimmy Young and Wogan left.  Only Ken Bruce remains, like a Tower raven.  Radio 2 is now a life raft for former Radio 1 jocks.
3 – Radio 3. I’ll come back to this.
4 – Radio 4.  Jesus fucking Christ.  Why I even bother I have no idea.  I also have no idea what they put in the tea at Radio 4 but I’m guessing that it is some sort of spin-off of a failed pharmaceutical trial for a confidence-enhancing pill that actually takes the user past ‘cocky’ and buries the needle of the arrogant-o-metre.  A typical ‘Today’ programme interview doesn’t even start with a cordial ‘good morning’ now.  As for ‘Woman’s Hour’ – they’re always talking about their feelings, FFS.  Of course Radio 4 used to be famous for its comedy, but now the rule appears to be ‘who cares if it’s funny as long as it’s clever’.  Once they broadcast the last ever ‘Cabin Pressure’, I’m off.
5 – Radio 5.  Worth the license fee alone.  Without Radio 5 befuddled middle-aged men everywhere would be wandering the streets.  That applies to listeners and presenters both.
6 – Wildcard.  Used to be Radio 4 Extra, before they turned their output to all Hancock, all the time.  Obviously not Radio 6 or 6 Extra, both of which are the radio station equivalent of that kid at school who used to be into music that nobody had ever heard of, because it’s shit.  I suspect that when the BBC eventually set up a national Folk station, that 6 preset will see a little more action.
So, why do I present Radio 3?  No idea, as I like my classical music to have been used in a poignant scene from a movie, or an advert, and interspersed with adverts fro Volvo dealerships in the local area.  In short, broadcast on Classic FM.
The appeal to Radio 3 is obvious to anyone who has listened to it – they broadcast based on the assumption that nobody is listening.  Indeed, sometimes they broadcast stuff that actively makes it hard to listen.  Did you know that a lot of classical music is quite quiet?  The other day I actually thought the radio was off and nearly choked on my mid-morning sherry when I heard the presenter boom ‘and that was Prada’s ‘ode to a nice night in’.’  The music they play is varied to say the least, from jazz to choral to chamber to ‘early’.  (‘Early’ music is not, as I had always presumed, stuff played on the breakfast show, but rather tunes from early on in the development of music, essentially anything after two rocks being banged together up to the formation of the Beatles in, judging from the way Paul MacCartney looks these days, 1762).
But that’s just the stuff I’ve (largely accidentally) heard.  Christ alone knows what else they broadcast.  For all I know Radio 3 is the nation’s premier ambient trip-hop broadcaster and the only radio station where presenters are allowed to n-bomb.
One strongly suspects that the vision statement for radio 3 is ‘niche’.  With such a varied programme it may well be the only station where people tune in for certain programmes, rather than just leave it on all day.  One can imagine that radio 3 listeners listen to their favourite programmes in their shed, that shed being lined with acoustic dampeners and liberally stocked with the better kind of stereo, sherry and beard grooming paraphernalia.
I have Radio 3 on my pre-set for two reasons.  Firstly, because I am massively OCD and numbered presents on radios are an obvious invitation to assign those buttons to the correspondingly named stations (a stroke of marketing genius by the BBC who all those years ago might have been criticised for lack of imagination in naming their first national radio station ‘1’).  Secondly, because I like to think I am the sort of person who has radio 3 on their preset because I live in hope of one day catching an unsuspecting presenter unawares and discovering that ‘The Bach Hour’ is actually used to broadcast the theme tunes of classic children’s telly serials.
‘Oh white horses’ or ‘You’ve got to fight for what you want…’, either way, that’s quality public broadcasting.