Que the music...and the inevitable pop-up radio station

It used to be that if you wanted to set up your own radio station, far from the corrosive influence of The Man, so that you could play the records that you wanted to play, you needed a ship floating in international waters and a bloody big transmitter mast.  This got you beyond the reach of broadcast licensing (and, some might say, the reach of any law enforcement agencies that might want to take a close look at the activities of the crew of ‘The Singing Nonce’).  Obviously, when the BBC was looking to crew its, appropriately as we now know, youth orientated radio, it took DJs from the pirate stations, a sort of reverse press-ganging.

Radio 1 torpedoed Caroline and others, and the next shift in pirate radio was when even commercial radio refused to play endless twelve inch acid house mixes.  Pirate stations popped up, playing music and telling people what fields they may want to gather in that weekend to either dance in, or make crop circles in, or both.  This still required you to tune in to the crackly end of the dial.

Then came the podcast and the true meaning of pirate radio was revealed.  It certainly wasn’t to allow you to listen to music that nobody else was listening to, that had been happening for years thanks to C30, C60 and C90 (Go!) cassette tapes circulated in schools, you know, the things that were supposed to kill the music industry instead of, as they actually did, generate interest in bands and allow people to share there enthusiams.

This, and the fanzine, was analogue social media.

What the podcast does is allow a radio show to be produced without any of that tedious music to prevent the presenter stoking their ego by talking about their favourite subject for thirty minutes.  Podcasts are now like the magazine shelves of WH Smiths, there is a podcast for every hobby and pastime, no matter how obscure.  There are probably podcasts about how to knit presentational jackets for wine bottles.  If there isn’t there bloody well should be.

And that should have been it for the pirate radio station.  Killed off by being legalised and available everywhere.

However.

Small, temporary stations are starting to become something of a vogue once again.  In the village every Easter, the local Christians run a radio station for a couple of weeks, and jolly good fun it is too.  Who gives a flying frick what the traffic is like over some bridge many miles away, I want an update on what the queue is like a) at the crossroads and b) at the check-out at Threshers, both of which are visible from the front of the café the Christians broadcast from.

But, say the hipsters, how can we make this even cooler?  I know, let’s appropriate the idea, put the word ‘pop-up’ in front of it, and pass off the idea as our own.

Hence, festivals now come with their own pop-up radio stations.  Nothing new there, but the twist is that these ones are being run by national broadcasters.  For instance, Radio 2 and their recent ‘Eurovision’ pop-up.

Don’t get me wrong, I think pop-ups are a great idea.  Pop-ups make things more fun, ‘book’ and ‘penis’ are just two of the tings that can be improved by having the words ‘pop-up’ in front of them.  But radio station?

Having said that, there’s a great deal of charm in something that is only in existence for a short time and is dedicated to one particular subject, and if it’s the only way we get to hear what is, essentially, the Eurovision B side, then it’s probably of some cultural significance.  Probably.

But is it as good as being slipped a cassette in the playground, or as thrilling as happening upon a new tune emerging from crackly static at the top of the dial?

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.