Since we last spoke before Xmas, I have made a move …. to Phnom Penh. I am writing this sitting on a hotel balcony overlooking the Mekong River. How did this happen? Nearly two years ago, when I was living in Brighton, I was interviewed by the BBC World Service Trust for a job managing their projects in Africa and Asia. I didn’t get the job but they said they would get back to me if something suitable came up. I heard nothing more until the week before Xmas, when a message was left on my voicemail asking me to call the BBC office about a possible consultancy job in the New Year. Apparently, they had contacted Owen [Leach, former colleague at Star TV India and Metromedia International Inc.] to track down where I was now, he had told them about my job at the Radio Authority, which they found was closed, so they tried Ofcom. They wanted me to go to Cambodia as early as possible in 2004 to support their project there that was partnered with three Phnom Penh radio stations. Could I spare two or three months? [see blog]
Only a week earlier, my line manager at Ofcom (who too transferred from the Radio Authority) had told me that I would have no work to do during the first quarter of the year and that “there is nothing for you to contribute to” with regard to Ofcom’s strategic review of the whole radio licensing process. So I asked if I could take unpaid leave to do the BBC work. My request was refused. I asked if I could take paid leave to do the work, since I had eight weeks of holiday accrued that had to be taken by year-end 2004. My request was refused. Suddenly, I was told that there were essential tasks that I would be needed to work upon during the first quarter of the year. I was also told that, when the radio licensing regime restarted in the second quarter, it would be essential for me to be there. So when could I take the vacation to which I was entitled? I received no answer. I thought long and hard about the options open to me. I had applied for all sorts of jobs internally with Ofcom that were more suited to my skills (in departments dealing with audience research, market intelligence, policy & strategy), but no one had offered me anything. The prospect of spending at least three months sitting at my desk doing nothing (just like my job at the Radio Authority) whilst the new Ofcom radio licensing strategy was being decided by others did not appeal to me. I had already spent a year doing almost nothing. So I quit. [see blog]
A week later, I was heading for Cambodia. I arrived here on Tuesday of last week without even had a meeting with the BBC World Service in London. They sent me the airline tickets, a contract and a certificate of health insurance. I am here initially for two months, but which is likely to be extended to three months. They are paying for my hotel bill at a very nice, newly built ‘boutique’ hotel owned by two French businessmen. My room is huge. The hotel has wireless internet access and a modern restaurant. They have contracted me as a consultant (their first, so the contract is numbered WST 001), but the manager in London says that, if the work is successful, I should get further work out of the BBC. He has been very honest and admitted that I am helping them out of a large hole. The project is paid for by the UK government Department for International Development (DfID) who want results by their year-end this April before they will renew funding for 2004/5. My job is to produce the required results. The pay isn’t great (£750/week + US$100/week pocket money) which they have admitted, but they say they are eking it out of the existing budget, as a consultant was not budgeted for.
The BBC set up an office here last year (there is no BBC Phnom Penh correspondent) which now employs around 40 people. It is in a beautiful colonial villa next door to the British Embassy. It has everything you could want – drivers, computers, mobile phones, photocopiers, etc and the essential air conditioning. There are several UK staff here – the project manager is an ex-‘Panorama’ filmmaker, the head of radio is an ex-World Service studio manager, the head of TV was executive producer of ‘EastEnders’. I had no briefing before I left as to what I was expected to do here, so I have spent this weekend reading all the BBC documents about the project, and now have a better idea. The BBC is shifting its strategy from simply making the odd programme or series to be broadcast in developing countries towards a more holistic approach of training staff of existing radio stations in developing markets (i.e. Cambodia) to be market leaders. But the BBC doesn’t have any staff who can do that because existing staff are used to having huge BBC resources available to them to achieve even simple objectives. Small-scale cheap commercial radio is simply not their forte. Even a simple phone-in, in BBC terms, is thought to need a staff of at least 5 full-time people for a single weekly show. The BBC has signed contracts with three stations here to deliver a mixture of pre-recorded spots, phone-in shows and management training (combined with hardware purchase) that will make these stations market leaders. There are 18 stations in Phnom Penh. My job is the training. Money is almost no object. DfID has given the BBC £3.3m for 3 years, not only for radio but also for the production of a two episode/week soap for TV. [see blog]
Phnom Penh isn’t as basic as I expected. True, there is no public transport or taxis, but every fifth vehicle is a 4-wheel drive and there are internet cafes on every corner. Although it’s the winter, it is very hot and dusty here, particularly in the middle of the day when the city closes down for a daily two-hour siesta. There are fewer shops than India and no corner convenience stores. I have just found the nearest supermarket to my hotel this morning, which is almost a mile away, but was surprised to find it took credit cards. There are no ATM’s in Cambodia. Everything is denominated here in US dollars as the local currency is worthless. The city is filled with Westerners as there are so many aid projects here of one sort or another. There is a daily English-language newspaper and an English radio station (‘Love FM’), despite the fact that very few Cambodians speak English. All shop signs and road signs are in Khmer and English because of the sheer number of aid workers here. The city is laid out in the Parisian style by the French with wide boulevards (though the traffic travels in both directions on both sides of the street) and vast gardens that stretch down to the river. Lots of Buddhist temples everywhere. Not so much outright poverty as Mumbai, but then Phnom Penh is a small city and there is no apparent rural-to-urban drift. Most people that survived Pol Pot lived in the countryside and stayed there. [see blog]
Anyway, enough of me. Let me know how things are going. I have intermittent wireless internet access at the hotel, and more reliable internet access at the office. If your itinerary passes this end of the world, please drop in. I’m sitting here eating mince pies (made in Australia) that I bought from the supermarket and thinking about ordering a pizza delivery tonight. Sometimes I wonder if I am really in Cambodia at all (although the endless karaoke phone-in shows on all radio stations remind me that I am not somewhere ‘normal’) [see blog]. Our only worry at the moment is that King Sihanouk has left for China to have a serious operation and, if he were not to survive, there is no succession plan in place and the likelihood of a people’s revolution because parliament has never been recalled since the last election. Oh, and the chicken flu that has arrived here Friday from Vietnam and Thailand. Apart from that, things are fine.
September 1989. The other information I needed was a copy of the finished KISS FM application form from the last bid [for a London FM commercial radio licence – see blog], and a copy of the huge appendix that had accompanied it. [Pirate radio station co-founder Gordon] McNamee pulled out his own private copies from a shelf unit alongside his desk, and told me that my need for these last remaining copies of the documents was greater than his at that moment in time. I took both documents and started flicking through them on the train journey home, hoping they might offer me some inspiration.
The application looked pristine, as if it had been completely untouched. Then I came across the page that outlined KISS FM’s intended staff structure, showing each job in the company and how much it would be paid. In pencil, McNamee had scribbled out two of the station’s seventy-seven staff positions. One was the programme director, a position created specifically for [application co-ordinator] Dave Cash, but which was no longer required since he had dropped out of the bid. That change was understandable. However, the other post McNamee had crossed out was the station’s programme controller, the job for which I had been earmarked. No new posts had been added to the diagram, no jobs had been re-titled and no other amendments had been made. It was clear that, in the new scheme, Dave Cash and I no longer held positions within the company. These changes left KISS FM’s head of music, Lindsay Wesker, reporting directly to McNamee, who now acted as both the company’s managing director and programme director.
I was shocked to have found out accidentally that I seemed already to have been ousted from the KISS FM master plan. What should I do? During the weeks and months that followed, McNamee made no mention of this revised staffing structure, so I started to forget about its implications. Maybe these had been mere doodlings that McNamee had made immediately after the failure of the first licence application. I had no idea.
It was only much, much later I would learn that these scribbles held far more significance for my future than ever I could have imagined at the time.
May 1990. [McNamee’s personal assistant] Rosee Laurence had been busy for weeks, organising a surprise thirtieth birthday party for McNamee at Flynns nightclub in London’s West End. She had printed and distributed specially printed invitation cards to everyone involved in KISS FM and to the media contacts the station had built up over five years. Laurence asked me if I would make a speech at the event, trumpeting McNamee’s successes and congratulating him on behalf of everyone involved in the station. I was very reticent as I had always hated making public speeches. However, Laurence insisted that I should make the speech, though she agreed that I could share the task with KISS FM DJ Dean Savonne, who was one of McNamee’s oldest friends.
On the evening of 10 May 1990, several hundred people gathered inside Flynns club to see McNamee arrive in the company of his parents, who had pretended they were taking him out for a meal to celebrate his birthday. As he was shepherded through the front door, the whole room burst into a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday,’ followed by tribute speeches from Savonne and me, along with a brief introduction by KISS FM financial director Martin Strivens. The whole event was rather flamboyant, worsened by McNamee’s expression of blank surprise at the huge welcome he had been given. Mentorn Films was present with cameras and floodlights to commit the whole event to videotape for inclusion in the documentary about KISS FM. This made the evening much more of a media spectacle than a private birthday celebration.
That evening, and the next day in the office, it was obvious that McNamee was not at all pleased by Laurence’s organisation of the surprise event. He showed no gratitude and acted as grumpily as he had ever done in our company. I had given him a pair of solid silver cufflinks as a birthday present, though he had hardly even thanked me for the most expensive gift I had ever bought for anyone. The only thing that seemed to concern him was Mentorn’s filming of the event [for a Channel 4 TV documentary]. His mood did not improve until he had persuaded the company to agree not to use any footage from that evening in its documentary. It appeared that, because McNamee had been unable to rehearse his performance for the surprise birthday party, he did not want to be seen on film as he really was – a moody, often grumpy, man who seemed to like to feel in control of people around him and who liked to appear sufficiently powerful to make them jump to his commands.
September 1990. Eight days after KISS FM’s arrival on the airwaves [having won a London radio licence on its second attempt – see blog], the station staged a huge public launch party in the form of a daytime open-air concert on Highbury Fields, only a few hundred metres away from the Holloway Road office. Although publicity for this event had initially been very slow, by the beginning of the month the event had gathered a momentum that seemed impossible to stop. Naturally, the station had promoted the concert extensively on-air during its first week, and new acts were being added to the all-star line-up on a daily basis.
Driving into work that Sunday morning, my journey came to a standstill a mile from the office. Cars had already been parked along the roads leading to the event, and the pavements were jammed with people walking to the event. It took me an hour to travel the final mile to the radio station, a distance that usually only took a matter of minutes, even in the weekday rush hour. Suddenly, it was brought home to me very clearly how enormous KISS FM’s listenership must be after only a week. At the radio station, everybody was excited because we could look out of the office window at the back of the building and see, literally, thousands of people teeming into Highbury Fields. These were our listeners! For the last week, we had been broadcasting into the ether above London, never knowing whether more than a few hundred people were listening to us. But here was the proof. If any one event made the entire KISS FM staff believe that the station was already a success, it was the sight of all those people who had decided to spend a sunny September day with us … just because we had invited them.
Although most of the day’s activities were taking place at Highbury Fields, the KISS FM building was also very busy. The entire floor used by the programming department had been turned into a changing room for the artists to use. This proved very convenient for us to grab interviews with each of them before they went on-stage. Sufficient material was gathered during that one day to make dozens of editions of ‘The Word’ programme over the following few weeks. I went downstairs to the production studio and found a very fraught Lyn Champion, head of talks, in animated conversation on the phone. She put the phone down and told me that Gordon McNamee had been calling her, demanding that she put on-air a live link from the Highbury Fields stage. I was surprised. During all the preparations, McNamee had not mentioned to me anything about a live link-up.
Investigating further, I found that McNamee had unilaterally arranged for the station’s engineering contractor to set up a microwave radio link from the event stage to the studio, without informing us. Champion was very concerned that the quality of the audio received from the stage was so awful that it did not bear transmission on the radio. I listened too and, indeed, it sounded like someone playing a stereo system very loudly in a bathroom. The quality was appalling and would sound exactly that way coming out of listeners’ radios. I felt that it would do neither the station, nor the artists who happened to be performing at the time, any service to broadcast such poor-quality sound. Besides, I was not sure that KISS FM had even sought permission from any of the artists to relay their live performances to the whole of London.
I contacted McNamee on his mobile phone at the event and told him that, after listening to the microwave link, I agreed with Champion that the sound quality was too poor to put on-air. McNamee exploded with anger and called me every swear word under the sun. However, I refused to lose my temper and told him that, from where I was standing in the studio, the quality would sound dreadful for the stations’ listeners, a fact that he would not be able to appreciate himself, being at the event. Everybody in the studio had agreed upon this – Champion, me and the DJ on-air at the time. It would be crazy to put something on-air that sounded so bad. McNamee raged at me some more and then the phone line went dead.
I imagined that McNamee might turn up at the studio and put the live link on-air himself, but maybe he was too busy enjoying the privileges of the VIP Enclosure he had organised backstage at Highbury Fields. I never saw McNamee visit the station studios that day, but I realised that I would bear the brunt of his bitterness at some point in the future, so I would not have escaped unscathed.
More importantly than putting the event on-air, by mid-afternoon the police and transport authorities were asking the station to broadcast appeals asking people not to try and travel to the event because the area could not cope with more visitors. I happily obliged. These announcements only served to reinforce in the minds of our listeners the power that the station was able to wield after only one week on-air.
At the very end of the day, when the crowds had finally dispersed happy and fulfilled, I cleared up the debris that the artists had left in their ‘dressing room’ and drove a mile or so down the road to the after-event party that had been organised. There were bouncers on the door of the venue, to whom I identified myself as a KISS FM staff member and showed my ID card. They made me wait … and wait … and wait. Then, one of them came back and told me that I was not on their list of approved guests. I told them that I must be. I worked for KISS FM and this was the radio station’s party. They insisted that I was not one of the invited guests of whom they had been made aware. I realised that there was little point in getting angry with two very large bouncers that KISS FM had contracted for the event. The only person I knew that would be inside the event with a mobile phone was McNamee. This was not a good time to ask him a favour. Instead, I drove home frustrated and angry at my exclusion.
December 1990. After the failure of the second [in-store] radio station at the Trocadero [shopping centre], McNamee busied himself with the organisation of a staff party to celebrate KISS FM’s one hundredth day on-air. On the evening of Sunday 9 December 1990, the station’s entire staff, accompanied by members of the board and several journalists, filled The Underworld club in Camden, a venue that was only a few yards away from KISS FM’s first office in Greenland Street. The event was an updated version of the annual KISS FM awards ceremony that had started in the station’s pirate days. McNamee thoroughly enjoyed taking the role of circus ringmaster for the night and, just like the Oscars event, he announced the short-listed candidates for what seemed like a never-ending succession of prizes.
Some of the awards were serious in nature – David Rodigan won ‘Best Daytime Show,’ Tee Harris won ‘Best Specialist Show,’ and Paul Anderson won the prize for ‘Best Mixer.’ There were also many joke awards with which McNamee could thoroughly enjoy embarrassing his staff – Sonia Fraser won the ‘Biggest Flirt Award,’ and Malcolm Cox won KISS FM’s ‘Worst Dancer Award.’ During several hours of ceremonies, McNamee ensured that just about everybody at the station was either nominated or won an award. After a stage show in which three members of the programming department dressed up to present a skit on stage of a soul song by The Supremes, the guests were left to mingle, accompanied by music selected by former LWR DJ Elayne who had been hired for the night.
It was an enjoyable evening and a good way for everybody to relax after three months of hard work. Once the awards section of the evening was over, several of the staff from my department came up to me, one by one, to express surprise that I had not been mentioned at all in McNamee’s ceremony or been nominated for any prize. One concerned member of my team expressed outright indignation that I had not even been thanked for my contribution to the station’s successful launch. “Have you not worked harder than anybody to make this whole thing work?” she asked.
I shrugged off these comments as if I was not bothered about my complete omission from the night’s events. But I too could not have helped but notice that McNamee had left me out. I was not at all surprised. McNamee usually made no bones about snubbing in public those former colleagues who had fallen from his favour. That night, everybody celebrated the fact that KISS FM had already won 750,000 listeners. McNamee seemed to be celebrating the fact that he did not need my services anymore.
June 1991. I knew that, whatever story McNamee had told the press about the reasons for my dismissal [see blog], I could be sure that the reasons he must have offered to the company’s board to ensure my sudden departure were probably much more lurid and fantastic. I dreaded to think what McNamee might have been saying, in confidence, to colleagues within the radio industry about what dreadful deeds I was supposed to have committed at KISS FM before he had found me out. Was there anything that McNamee would not do to try and destroy my reputation?
That question was answered three weeks after my dismissal. I received a phone call late one evening from Daniel Nathan, a colleague in radio whom I had employed at KISS FM temporarily to help train the DJs. The two of us regularly exchanged news about developments within the industry. At the end of the conversation, Nathan asked me how I had reacted to the newspaper report about my dismissal. “What report?” I asked him, knowing that the media trade magazines had already run out of steam with the story. He went away for a while and returned to the phone with the Independent On Sunday newspaper in which he had seen the article.
Under the headline ‘KISS FM Keeps Status Quo,’ the report said: “KISS FM, London’s hippest radio station, has fought off an attempt to take it into the mainstream of pop music. But the former pirate has dismissed its head of programming after he suggested that ‘the radical sound of young London,’ as KISS calls itself, ditch the soul, Latin, house R&B, rare groove, salsa, blues, hip hop, reggae and bhangra music styles that made its name. Grant Goddard, head of programming at KISS, was sacked by the managing director, Gordon McNamee, after proposing to dismiss the weekend disc jockeys and play more commercial music to compete with Capital Radio.”
I could not believe the ‘story’ that Nathan was reading to me over the phone, but the article continued: “While a soured Mr Goddard fed the trade press stories of a crisis – ‘Struggling KISS Goes Mainstream’ declared the magazine Broadcast – Mr McNamee, or Gordon Mac as he is known, had gone to Spain for a rest. By the time he returned, the rumour was that Virgin, the principal shareholder, was selling out to the publishing company EMAP, who were to install a rock music supremo to win new listeners. ‘That’s all rubbish,’ said Mac yesterday. ‘We’re not about to start playing pop music, although of course we are interested in taking listeners from other stations, including Capital.’“
The article continued with a glowing biography of McNamee, trumpeting his abilities, accompanied by his photo. I could not believe what Nathan had just read to me down the phone line. This was the first national newspaper to pick up the story of my dismissal, but the newspaper had made no attempt to discover my side of the story. Furthermore, McNamee’s lies had surely reached their zenith in this article. And the journalist had peppered the article with inaccuracies – Virgin was not the principal shareholder in KISS FM. EMAP, far from buying the radio station, already had a substantial stake in it. I was absolutely livid and was determined to do something about it.
Once I found the relevant issue of The Independent On Sunday in my local library the next day, I noticed that the article had been written by Martin Wroe. The name was familiar to me because Wroe had written regularly about KISS FM since January 1988, when a piece in The Independent, entitled ‘Pirates Who Storm The Open Airwaves,’ had been accompanied by a photo of McNamee standing in the pirate KISS FM studio. Wroe’s first article had offered a glowing account of “Gordon Mac, the twenty-seven year old North London entrepreneur who controls KISS FM.” In at least four further articles about the station, Wroe had described McNamee as “a hip young media mogul” and had referred to “the excellent audience figures of KISS FM.” If I had wanted to choose someone to write a positive account of recent events at KISS FM, who better to ask than a journalist, on a national newspaper, who had never said a negative word about me?
I was incensed that Wroe had made no attempt to contact me to discover my side of the story, despite the fact that the article had been published three weeks after my dismissal. Every other journalist who had written about my exit from KISS FM had at least spoken to me about the story, even if they had not believed my version of events. Wroe had written a straightforward character assassination piece, much as McNamee might have wanted. Just when I thought McNamee had finished sticking the knife into my back publicly, he had played his trump card.
September 1991. However, it was not until three months after Wroe’s article had been published that the newspaper printed a full retraction and apologised for Martin Wroe’s wholesale inaccuracies.
Another day, another meeting. Though this one was most unusual. Not a word had been spoken during the past hour. I was sat in the basement Meetings Room. I had a pile of papers in front of me to discuss. I had thoroughly prepared. However, after arriving early, I was still the only person present. My boss had insisted upon this meeting. So where was she? There was no phone call or message to inform of a delay. One really is the loneliest number. Having waited an hour, I returned to my desk upstairs in the team office. Strangely, nothing would ever be mentioned to me about that meeting. It was as if it had never not happened.
Once is an accident. Twice might be a coincidence. Three times is an act of passive aggression. This should have been the last of three meetings demanded of me in an email from my boss’ personal assistant. Their purpose was to brief Claire Enders about the processes by which British radio stations make payments to songwriters for playing their music. She was to be grilled as an ‘Expert Witness’ during a landmark hearing of the obscure ‘Copyright Tribunal’ that had all the trappings of a court proceeding. However, she never arrived for any of those three meetings, never explained her absences and no subsequent attempt was made to reschedule them. For three hours across three days, I had been waiting in vain. The email to me had read:
“We have put in the diary 1pm on Wednesday 13th September for you to spend the afternoon with Grant. We have also blocked off 10th/11th October for your second session with Grant.”
Claire Enders had responded to me and two colleagues who were tackling non-radio issues:
“The initial format I would favour is seminars each w GG [me], JB and AE to outline the key issues covered by each and how we have dealt w them. I will take notes. Ideally, each of GG, JB and AE should this week prepare a set of materials for the topic covered which includes all pleadings and relevant points and witness statements divided by topic. I will then read the materials then expect to be quizzed by each of GG, JB and AE on each topic until I am word perfect. Plse copy this to GG Thank you Plse don’t forget that either GG or JB need to be in court with me for my evidence (two full days) and either one will have to have an encyclopedic grasp of our three reports in order to assist.”
After our September meeting had become the first unexplained no-show, the timing of two further dates arrived by email: “GG in for 9th October 3pm, 10th October 1.30pm”.
Why had it fallen upon me to tutor the ‘star witness’ of the defence team? I had been hired by Enders Analysis that April to research and write analyses for its subscribers about the British radio industry [see blog]. However, by year end, I had found no time to write anything for publication. Instead, I was waylaid once my employer discovered that I seemed to be the only person in the office who understood the intricacies of music copyright. I was surrounded there by ‘analysts’ who wrote reams about their specialist media industries but who seemed scarcely to have sullied their hands working on the ‘shopfloor’ of sectors they professed to understand intimately.
I was different from them. They knew it, I knew it. They were posh. I was not. They had been privately educated. I had been born in a council house. My knowledge of the radio industry had been amassed from working my way up from ground zero, fuelled by a childhood thirst for knowledge about broadcasting. I was still at junior school [see blog] when I created multiple scrapbooks filled with newspaper articles about radio, scissored and UHU-ed from my parents’ and grandparents’ daily newspapers. I was still at secondary school [see blog] when I presented weekly music programmes on multiple London pirate radio stations, as well as producing identification jingles played across their output.
In 1980, my first paying job was at Newcastle commercial radio station ‘Metro Radio’ [see blog] whose declining ratings I turned around using my knowledge of pop music, my study of American music radio playlist systems and my economics training. One of my additional responsibilities as acting head of music was to correlate the reporting to copyright agencies of all the music played. Every presenter of every programme was required by law to handwrite A4 forms that recorded for each record played its song title, its artist, its record label, catalogue number and the duration in minutes and seconds it was used on-air. Around 300 songs played each day resulted in dozens of scrappy pages that regularly contained only partial information and blank spaces. A replacement computer system had been promised but never appeared. The forms had to be dispatched to three British statutory music copyright agencies: PPL, PRS and MCPS.
Some presenters hated this ‘extra’ work. They would put off doing the paperwork until their live show had finished, then forget and zoom off, instead piling all the records they had played in their locker, along with the blank forms and a vague promise to do it ‘later’. Much of the station’s record library ended up locked away for weeks in presenters’ lockers bursting with vinyl unavailable for airplay. When pressed to complete forms weeks later, they would have no memory of which track they had played from an album or its on-air duration so, naturally, they just made it up. From my perspective, any completed form – however inaccurate – was better than none at all and would reduce the grief I received from copyright agencies about missing data amongst the reams of paper submitted. It was chaotic. Did any artist or songwriter ever get paid the correct amount by the radio station using their works?
In 1990, prior to launching London’s KISS FM [see blog], I had to create a reporting system from scratch for the music it played. I was the only management team member who even understood our legal copyright obligations. Again, the promised computer system never arrived. I appointed one team member, Myrna McHugh, to co-ordinate the paper-based administration and, during our busiest times of the year, the workload required her to supervise a team of ‘temps’ hired to collate the voluminous information. The station regularly played ‘mixes’, ‘dubplates’ and ‘white label’ records whose copyright details were particularly challenging to determine.
In 2001, working in India on the launch of its first commercial FM radio station ‘Radio City’ [see blog], I met with the country’s copyright agencies to understand how to create a system to report the music played. Though our station was owned by Rupert Murdoch’s ‘Star TV’ business, I invited our competitors, including ‘The Times of India’ newspaper, to my presentation in a Mumbai hotel conference room to explain how music copyright functions and the legal requirements with which all our newly licensed radio stations would have to comply. I was pleased to be teaching my acquired knowledge to others.
By the time I joined Enders Analysis in 2006, my three-decade media career had also taken me to work at radio stations in Israel, Russia, Hungary, Germany, Latvia, the Czech Republic, Lithuania and Estonia [see pdf].
I stumbled into my latest job just when a music copyright dispute was about to be heard before the Copyright Tribunal. The earliest wave of American online music streaming businesses had launched in Britain and disputed how much they should have to pay for the music they played to their subscribers. Their argument was simple: claiming their business model was no different from existing British commercial broadcast AM/FM radio stations, such as London’s ‘Capital Radio’, so they should pay the same low rates. However, those rates had been agreed in 1973 when commercial radio was first licensed in Britain, an era when it was unimaginable that consumers would someday request and hear specific songs via the internet.
The songwriters, represented by the Performing Rights Society (PRS), disputed the argument of these online businesses who added no ‘radio station’ value in the form of presenters, information, news and features to their non-stop back-to-back music. PRS had hired Enders Analysis to provide data and arguments to win its case. Claire Enders would appear before the Tribunal as an Expert Witness for PRS. During the months leading up to the Tribunal hearing this case, my role was to refine those arguments and to research/analyse the radio and music streaming markets to provide documented evidence. Some of this work I have subsequently published, such as ‘The Differences Between Traditional Terrestrial Broadcast Radio and Internet Radio’ and ‘Audio Podcasts and The Market for Podcasting’ (23 and 35 pages respectively).
I recall that one day, waiting at the Lebanon Road tram stop, a ‘Eureka’ moment made me realise that a document I had earlier found online undermined the argument presented by the music streaming companies that their product was ‘radio’. I contacted PRS and, working with its lawyers at Denton Wilde Sapte [see blog], we jointly developed a cohesive case backed by evidence to present in writing prior to the commencement of Tribunal hearings on 28 September 2006.
It was 5 December 2006 when Claire Enders was called as an Expert Witness before the Tribunal. I was sat in the front row on the lefthand side, between the PRS lawyers and their barrister, while the American internet team were on the opposing benches. Throughout the Tribunal, I would follow carefully the proceedings and write thoughts on Post-it notes passed to the lawyers who then made suggestions to their barrister. Enders faced me from the witness box a few metres away to the left of the Bench of three elderly judges. It resembled one of those courtroom scenes so beloved of television dramas. Enders was pressed by the barrister for the streaming services as to her expertise in the radio industry:
Kenneth Steinthal [New York Bar representing MusicNet, Yahoo!, AOL, RealNetworks, Napster and Sony]: “What exactly did you do to analyse the webcasting business before submitting your first witness statement?”
Claire Enders [Expert witness for PRS]: “In preparation of it?”
Steinthal: “Yes.”
Enders: “In preparation of it, the radio specialist I have on the team, who is called Grant Goddard, and I discussed, you know, what we were looking for, and in particular we looked at a large number of webcasts. We did a lot of internet research into the various models. We looked at what had been written about them in the US. It was also part of the job to look at how the different services behaved, you know, actually experiencing them.”
Enders: “My colleague, Grant Goddard, spends a lot of time analysing various web-based phenomena, as do many of my team, and so we listened to them and looked at how they behaved and so forth. So a lot of desk-based research and experimenting with the services themselves.”
Steinthal: “Can we separate what your colleagues did from what you did and ask you to focus on what you personally did to analyse the webcasting industry?”
Enders: “I personally spent time on ‘Yahoo!’ and ‘AOL’.” […]
Steinthal: “Other than spending time on ‘Yahoo!’ and ‘AOL’ to get a sense of what those services were comprised of and looking at ‘Shoutcast’, again focusing on what you did to analyse the webcasting market, what else did you do, if anything?”
Enders: “I also read the — I am sorry, I am not a lawyer, but the various documents that had been prepared by the various parties, various legal documents making various claims about their industry — about the specific aspects of both ‘iTunes’ with the MNO’s and so forth so. I am sorry, I think those are called pleadings, but there are other documents that have different names. So I was trying to understand what the issues were between the two sides.”
Steinthal: “Did you interview anyone engaged in webcasting?”
Enders: “I did not do so personally.”
Steinthal: “Is there anything else you did, other than what you have just testified to, to ready yourself for preparing your first report in May 2006?”
Enders: “No.”
Steinthal: “Other than your experience in connection with the potential ‘EMI’ interest in ‘Viva’ and in ‘Classic FM’ in the early 90’s, do you have any first-hand experience in broadcast radio?”
Enders: “It depends what you call first-hand, because I have always been an analyst and a strategist, so that — I am not an operations person. I have not run a station or anything, I just analyse business models. So, by that nature, one is always a bit removed from the coalface, if I may say.” […]
Steinthal: “Prior to this case, had you had any experience with respect to the licensing by MCPS or PRS of either terrestrial radio stations or internet radio stations?”
Enders: “No.” […]
Steinthal: “… I am trying to find out whether you did anything other than looking at the industry reports, for example, and talking to your colleagues as you testified earlier in doing –”
Enders: “Desk research, we did a lot of desk research.”
Steinthal: “Excuse me?”
Enders: “We did a lot of desk research, looking for – searching for information online.”
Steinthal: “Anything else that you did to inform yourself, to make the comparison that you made in your various reports between terrestrial radio and webcasting?”
Enders: “Other than looking at websites and doing desk research and listening to the stations themselves and so forth?”
Steinthal: “Right.”
Enders: “No.”
It was 11.35 on the morning of the first of day of testimony by Claire Enders. We had only started at 10.30. For the remainder of that long day and all of the next, I put on a poker face whilst cringing inside at my boss’ difficulty providing detailed answers to questions fired at her about the British radio industry. She had undoubtedly read my documents for the Tribunal, but why had she not been prepared to meet me so that I could share my acquired knowledge and expertise? Why the reluctance to fulfil face-to-face meetings she herself had demanded? Enders’ apparent view was that I toiled at “the coalface” whilst she was “not an operations person” but worked to “just analyse business models”, a latter-day Ian MacGregor to my underground mining activity. She and I never spoke about her performance those two days.
After twenty days of hearings, it took until 19 July 2007 for the judges to publish their 91-page verdict. It noted criticisms voiced during the hearings that Enders was “a commentator or a highly-paid industry observer rather than being a lively participant in any relevant field”. However, it did highlight that “in particular, she gave evidence to refute the suggestion that webcasting [‘streaming’ in today’s parlance] and commercial broadcast music [‘radio’] should be regarded as comparable products”, the argument I had successfully proven.
Overall, the judges’ verdict on Claire Enders’ performance as an Expert Witness was hardly positive:
“Even taking into account Ms Enders’ inexperience in this jurisdiction, her performance as an expert was, we thought, rather uninspiring. Her reports (which comprised a fulsome lever arch file of evidence together with numerous lever arch volumes of exhibits thereto) consisted to a large extent of data which had indeed been sourced by others, sometimes by a team which she herself led and the reliability of whose work she (often unquestioningly) relied on – only to find it wanting on closer examination. We certainly sympathise with the impossibility of mastering everything within so large a corpus of material. Nonetheless, on a number of key issues, she seemed confused, occasionally inaccurate and, more importantly, sometimes unable to provide reasons for the assumptions upon which her evidence was based. Surprisingly, she had not actually read the New JOL [‘New Joint Online Agreement’] but relied on a summary thereof. We do not wish to give the impression however that Ms Enders’ evidence was misleading; it was not. But we were not greatly assisted by it.”
Nevertheless, our client PRS and its legal team at Denton Wilde Sapte were very pleased with the Tribunal’s outcome. They invited me to participate in celebratory drinks after work in a Fleet Street members club. As the only Enders Analysis employee to have sat between them on the legal front bench throughout the proceedings, I had been impressed by their professionalism and gratitude for my contributions. My work had made a difference. Henceforth, music streaming businesses operating in Britain would be required to make considerably greater payments (‘royalties’) to songwriters whose music they were using. Not merely songwriters within Britain but throughout the world. The business model of American music streaming services operating in the UK would necessarily have to change.
In a subsequent presentation ‘Online Radio: The UK Business Model‘ I made in 2012 to the ‘Music 4.3: Smart Radio’ conference in London, I noted how this Tribunal had determined music streamers’ costs for using songs would be much more expensive than rates paid by UK commercial radio stations. The Tribunal had decided that “the per play rates in [online] agreements for pure webcasting [music streaming] are approximately six times those … under the [commercial radio] agreement.” The reason it gave was that “the Tribunal was of the view that independent commercial radio offered quite a different service to an [online streamed] ‘music, music, music’ service”.
As the Tribunal verdict had produced a ‘win’ for PRS, Enders Analysis offered to pay for myself and my work colleagues to share a celebratory afternoon outing. I should not have been surprised that they chose to take ‘afternoon tea’ at the Savoy Hotel in the Strand, a venue for the rich and privileged I had heard of but never coveted. My younger posher colleagues enjoyed themselves at “London’s most famous hotel”. I would have much preferred to spend an evening at the Jah Shaka reggae sound system.
The Tribunal verdict noted that Enders Analysis had charged its client PRS £750,000 for “preparing their reports” though additionally there were “VAT [at 20%] and charges for [Claire Enders’] attendance at the hearing”. The judges concluded that “incurring expert fees of this order of magnitude (and even taking into account […] the substantial sums of money at stake) was, in our view, seriously disproportionate”. Enders Analysis’ billing to PRS had likely exceeded one million pounds.
Within only a few years, most of the American ‘applicants’ who had forced this costly Tribunal – Yahoo!, AOL, RealNetworks, Napster and Sony – exited the UK music streaming market, each having spent millions on legal fees and their own bevy of Expert Witness submissions and expenses. It demonstrated what a ‘black hole’ exists for American online start-ups who seem to have unlimited money to try to push their way into countries around the world on their own terms, using their own lawyers to argue the unarguable and to attempt to stomp on overseas legal precedents.
My first nine months at Enders Analysis had been diverted into full-time work on this legal case instead of writing media analyses for its subscribers. Regardless, I had been pleased to utilise my ‘expert’ knowledge of music copyright gained over decades on the radio industry shopfloor. One day at work, Claire Enders stopped me on the office staircase, thanked me for my work on the Tribunal and unexpectedly offered me a bonus which I gratefully accepted. It may have been no more than a few percentage points of her ginormous fee but, combined with accumulated savings from my and my wife’s salaries, it provided us a deposit for the purchase in 2007 of our first home … at the age of forty-nine.
It was the first and last bonus I received in any workplace.
Pop music had been outlawed by the British government. Twiddle the dial of an AM transistor radio and you would not have found a single UK radio station playing the hits of the day. It was crazy. Contemporary popular music, along with the latest fashions and art, had become Britain’s biggest cultural exports. The ‘British Invasion’ had taken America by storm a few years earlier. Liverpool’s Beatles were the most popular pop group in the world. Yet none of this music could be heard on radio in Britain. It was so crazy.
The British establishment, populated by the upper classes, had always looked down their monocled noses at popular culture. It had never touched their lives because they inhabited a world of people just like themselves who valued classical music, opera and English literature. Not only did pop music appear entirely frivolous to them, but it was an artform they found difficult to completely control. Not only did pop music’s lyrics (‘Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds’?) baffle their sensibilities, but they suspected songs were laced with messages (‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’?) that might incite rebellion against their rightful position at the apex of British society.
The radio waves of Britain had been tightly controlled by the British government almost since the earliest invention of the medium. Although commercial radio stations playing pop music had existed in the United States since 1920, Britain’s elite remained doggedly determined to maintain a firm grip on every item broadcast to a heathen population that needed to be managed and patronised. From its beginnings until the present day, our government-controlled BBC has been stuffed with Oxbridge graduates who resolutely uphold the class status quo.
Despite the birth of rock’n’roll in 1954, BBC radio had remained determined throughout the 1960’s to ignore the resultant resurgence of British popular music that held unprecedented appeal amongst the young generation. Though The Beatles had sold more records than any other musicians in history, you would never know it from listening to BBC radio. The Fab Four’s songs were mostly confined to occasional live guest appearances on the ‘BBC Light Programme’ that my father anxiously recorded on his second-hand Uher reel-to-reel tape recorder so that we could replay their beloved pop music ad nauseum. Otherwise, the BBC’s lone music radio station remained firmly stuck in a bygone era.
On 14 August 1967, the United Kingdom parliament had passed ‘The Marine Broadcasting Offences Act’ whose outcome was to ban the British population from listening to pop music on the radio. From the early 1960’s, to the annoyance of the country’s elite, smart entrepreneurs from the US, Canada and Ireland had filled the yawning gap in the British radio market for pop music by anchoring ships off its coast, transmitting unscripted North American disc jockeys playing chart hits from beyond Britain’s territorial waters. Whenever we journeyed in our family car, I was always sat on the front bench seat of our Rambler between my parents, in charge of the volume and tuning dials of its American-made AM radio. Our favourite listening since its arrival in 1964 had been pirate radio ‘Big L’ on 266 metres that played lots of Motown soul and pop songs.
At midnight on 14 August 1967, Big L and its offshore companions closed forever, all made illegal by the new legislation. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the pop music radio station we adored had been eradicated from our lives. Pirate radio ships had enjoyed immense audiences, too popular for bigwigs at the non-commercial BBC and the stuffy British establishment to control, and (shock horror) they had used advertising revenues to fund their unlicensed activities. Commercial radio would remain outlawed in Britain until the following decade. Our household was reduced to listening to the multiple reel-to-reel tapes my father had previously recorded with a microphone from radio and television shows, though we already knew the songs’ running order by heart.
Weeks passed until 30 September 1967, the memorable day that pop music returned to the British airwaves when the BBC launched a new national station it named ‘Radio One’. The British government had implemented a ‘stick and carrot’ strategy by having banned the popular pirate stations whilst simultaneously forcing a reluctant BBC to initiate a replacement pop music service. This was a repeat of the 1945 fiasco when the government had had to force the BBC not to close its much-loved temporary wartime radio service of popular entertainment, the ‘BBC General Forces Programme’, and instead maintain transmissions to motivate Britain’s post-war weary working class [see blog]. Ironically, both these stations, BBC Radio 1 and the renamed ‘Radio 2’, would attract considerably larger audiences by playing recorded music than the BBC’s more expensive networks of original drama, discussions, classical music and news (‘Radio 3’ and ‘Radio 4’) that targeted the chattering classes predominantly in the Home Counties.
To those of us who had been committed fans of Big L, the BBC’s new pop station sounded like a pale carbon copy, even employing many presenters who were already household names from their pirate days. ‘Innovation’ at the BBC has long been the outcome of it copying someone else’s ideas that had already proven successful (viz BBC launched ‘1Xtra’ only after the success of my ground-breaking black music format at ‘KISS 100 FM’). Not desiring its new team of young, long-haired, non-Oxbridge presenters to spoil the refined atmosphere so carefully cultivated in Broadcasting House, the BBC installed these recruits in an out-building across the road named Egton House.
Bizarrely, the BBC made no attempt to ensure Radio 1 possessed brand integrity, frustrating its intended young audience by making the new station ‘share’ some daytime shows with long-time Radio 2 old fogey presenters (such as former 1950’s crooner Jimmy Young), and by not broadcasting at all during evenings when teenagers were most readily available to listen. The resulting junctions were jarring. I recall the Number One pop chart single unveiled before seven o’clock every Sunday by Alan Freeman on Radio 1’s ‘Pick of the Pops’ show, then immediately switching to Radio 2’s anachronistic ‘Sing Something Simple’ show of post-war karaoke tunes that ran for 42 years from 1959. I can still sing its dreadful theme tune that signalled my rush to the radio’s ‘off’ button.
From his very first Radio 1 programme, for years to come I would wake every weekday to Tony Blackburn’s breakfast show on my bedside radio alarm clock. I already knew him from his pirate Big L days, but the national exposure on the new station’s most listened to show catapulted him into national celebrity status. He went on to present the weekly BBC TV pop music show ‘Top of the Pops’, to appear on Mike Read’s ‘Pop Quiz’ TV game show and to host the ITV series ‘Time for Blackburn’. When he split from his actress wife Tessa Wyatt, the tabloid newspapers had a field day. His radio shows were always upbeat, optimistic and entertaining, accompanied by the barking of his fake pet dog Arnold.
Blackburn was an unabashed fan of soul music and was able to slip in the odd personal favourite amongst the playlisted pop records mandated by his staid BBC producer, Johnny Beerling. His persistent airplay of the song ‘Remember Me’ from the Diana Ross album ‘Surrender’ persuaded EMI Records to release it as a UK-only single that reached chart position seven in 1971. He wrote sleeve notes for several UK soul albums including the ‘Motown Chartbusters’ series and live albums by The Temptations and The O’Jays.
In 1973, the BBC put thirty-year old Blackburn out to pasture on Radio 2’s mid-morning show, replacing him on the Radio 1 breakfast show with twenty-four-year-old clever clogs Noel Edmonds, much heralded as the station’s ‘rising star’ since joining in 1969 rather than accepting his university place. It was time to retune my morning radio alarm to new offshore pirate radio station ‘RNI’. Although Radio 1 had been broadcasting a weekly soul show on Saturday afternoons, Blackburn was inexplicably never its presenter. However, in 1980 Blackburn did return to Radio 1 as host of the weekend breakfast show which would abandon its previous, child-centric ‘Junior Choice’ identity under which posh presenter Ed ‘Stewpot’ Stewart had played almost the same ‘comedic’ records week in week out for the last twelve years.
In 1981, Blackburn joined local station ‘BBC Radio London’ where, freed from the musical straightjacket exerted by Radio 1 producers, he could play soul music to his heart’s content on its weekday afternoon show. Fellow soul music fans Robbie Vincent and Dave Simmons had already played much black music there since its launch in 1970. Blackburn’s arrival, followed by Dave Pearce in 1984, cemented the station’s reputation amongst London’s black music fans as the only legal station worth a listen alongside the capital’s multiple pirate broadcasters.
In a masterstroke of mismanagement, this soul music ‘beacon’ on London’s airwaves was destroyed at a stroke in 1988 when the BBC decided to transform its predominantly music station into an all-talk station, sacking existing presenters and appointing Matthew Bannister from Capital Radio’s daily evening news show ‘The Way It Is’ to manage the renamed ‘GLR’. I attended the Corporation’s overhyped launch press conference (everyone arriving by Thames ferry) where it was self-evident that disaster loomed, Bannister having an excellent track record as journalist but no experience managing a radio station, let alone marketing a new brand image. Despite much bollocks propagated in the media that ‘GLR’ was the face of a revolutionary style of radio, the ratings testified otherwise. The station’s share of London radio listening nosedived from 5.0% in 1987 to 1.6% by 1992 (source: JICRAR) when it had become the second least listened to of the city’s fourteen licensed stations. The BBC had deliberately abandoned London’s soul music fans and sent us hordes back to pirate radio listening.
Immediately, Blackburn joined Capital Radio’s newly launched all-oldies ‘Capital Gold’ London AM station (previously programmes had always been simulcast on FM and AM), presenting its weekday breakfast show of pop music plus a Sunday soul music show syndicated to Capital’s co-owned UK stations outside London. This new station attracted 10.2% of London radio listening in its launch year (source: JICRAR), surpassing earlier ratings achieved during Blackburn’s seven-year tenure at BBC Radio London. His national profile was raised by television appearances on Channel 4’s ‘After Dark’ show in 1987 and Sky One’s weekday morning show ‘Sky by Day’ in 1989. I purchased his 1985 autobiography ‘Living Legend: The Tony Blackburn Story’ in an ex-library book sale and enjoyed reading it as a fan who had spent thousands of hours listening to his radio shows since the 1960’s.
When the government announced in 1988 the opening of bids for new commercial radio licences for London, the first since 1973, there was substantial hope amongst the capital’s myriad pirate stations that a black music station would be selected. Alliances were forged between existing commercial radio owners greedy for more licences so as to eliminate competitors, moneybags who had witnessed commercial radio become a ‘licence to print money’, music enthusiasts and contemporary pirate station owners. I teamed up with London pirate ‘KISS FM’ which, although not the longest running black music broadcaster, nor the most pervasive (on-air only during weekends, rather than 24 hours per day like others), had the greatest potential to win a licence.
‘Blues & Soul’ magazine published a rumour that Tony Blackburn was considering a licence bid in association with former ‘Radio Luxembourg’ DJ Tony Prince. In his autobiography, Blackburn had written that “if the [Controller] job at [BBC] Radio One is filled, I would like to open a twenty-four hour a day soul music station in London.”
In the KISS FM open plan basement room at Blackstock Mews, a planning meeting attended by more than a dozen people was held to report on progress of the licence application that would be submitted to the broadcasting regulator. Introduced to us was Dave Cash who had been hired to co-ordinate the production of the document. To this day, I have no idea how he came to be involved, how much he was paid or by whom. He had had no prior involvement in KISS FM’s pirate activities and had demonstrated no particular interest in black music during a radio career remarkably similar to Blackburn’s: presenting for pirate ship Big L, joining BBC Radio 1 at launch in 1967 to present a weekday daytime show, then defecting in 1973 to become launch production manager of London’s Capital Radio where he presented shows for the next 21 years.
The resultant KISS FM licence application submitted by Cash was weak, lacked relevant market research, offered a flimsy business plan and failed to argue a convincing case. The bid failed despite Cash’s experience from two decades in the radio industry. Whether any application would have won up against the government’s preferred bevy of old jazz music chums we will never know [see blog]. Cash’s involvement in KISS FM ended the day the licence outcome was announced. Maybe he was busy clinking champagne glasses with Capital Radio’s directors in their boardroom at Euston Tower. A jazz station would prove no competition to Capital’s fifteen-year commercial monopoly over music radio in London. Maybe even more champagne would be gulped the following year after the launch of the ‘Jazz FM’ station proved to be a ratings and commercial disaster (1% share of London listening, 1990 JICRAR).
Tony Blackburn had been moved to comment to ‘Music Week’ trade magazine: “I was amazed that the new London FM was a jazz station. I think KISS FM should have got the licence. I would have thought it would have been a soul station. If I’d been the IBA [broadcast regulator], that’s the one I would have given. The problem is, if they don’t give a proper legalised soul station soon, there’s going to be more and more pirate radio stations.”
To cut a long story short [see book], following Dave Cash’s rejected application, the government eventually offered two further London radio licences as the consequence of a lobbying campaign by Heddi Greenwood and myself at KISS FM. I co-ordinated, researched and wrote the second KISS FM licence application which won [see blog]. I then launched the newly legal station ‘KISS 100’ on 1 September 1990 [see blog] as its programme director, the sole management team member with prior UK commercial radio experience.
Tony Blackburn wrote in ‘Jocks’ magazine: “Now that KISS FM are legal, it will be interesting to see how they face up to the challenge of broadcasting for the first time on a truly competitive basis. Gone are the days when they paid nothing for playing records. Gone are the days when a truly amateur DJ, sitting in a makeshift studio in someone’s bedroom, was tolerated because he was a ‘pirate.’ And gone are the days when DJs on the station was [sic] paid little or nothing for their services. Now that KISS FM is legit, it will have to put out a truly professional sound to attract audience and advertisers alike.”
‘Blues & Soul’ magazine correctly responded that it had been the pioneering work of the many soul pirate stations, from ‘Radio Invicta’ in 1970 onwards [see blog], that had spearheaded the long running campaign for a legal black music station in London. Despite Blackburn’s evident affinity for soul music, there was nothing he had done personally to further that particular cause.
Asked his opinions about KISS FM’s launch by ‘Radio & Music’ magazine, Blackburn responded: “I’m pleased KISS FM is coming on air. I think it’s good for radio, but it isn’t guaranteed to get an audience. It’s not enough to play the right music any more – it has to be presented well.”
However, following the station’s launch, Blackburn wrote in Jocks magazine: “KISS FM didn’t so much open up on September 1st, it staggered onto the air with all the professionalism of a British Rail station announcement, infact [sic] I think some of the station announcers have better voices than a lot of the KISS FM DJs. For a whole weekend, we were subjected to humourless, badly spoken amateurs thanking the management and telling us all that they were now legal, something we’d all worked out for ourselves. At least every half hour, I was told how much the DJ loved me and that everything was ‘crucial.’ At one stage on the first day, I heard a DJ actually play a record for ‘everyone who knows me’ and then invited listeners to send in ‘fax messages on a fax ‘cause our phones ain’t workin’.’“
Blackburn continued in this vein for a further three paragraphs before concluding: “On radio, a good voice is important and the ability to use it properly, a lot of the DJs on KISS talk on a monotone, all sound the same and are not a bit entertaining. These people might be very good in clubs but make the station sound so bad I would go as far as to say it is not professionally acceptable. Naturally these remarks don’t apply to the professionals they have on the station such as Robbie Vincent, David Rodigan and a few others.”
A profile of Blackburn also appeared in the ‘Sunday Telegraph’ newspaper, in which he said: “When you listen to those new stations like KISS FM, it shows up how good these old guys are.” The interviewer noted, with understatement, that Blackburn “has a bit of a bee in his bonnet about KISS FM.”
Every Monday morning at nine o’clock, the heads of each KISS FM department met in its upstairs boardroom. At our next meeting, managing director Gordon McNamee insisted upon playing in its entirety from VHS cassette a five-minute commentary Tony Blackburn had broadcast on ‘Channel 4’. He seemed to take Blackburn’s criticisms very personally and asked me what was to be done. I expressed the opinion that this commentary, along with Blackburn’s similar press articles, had been cleverly staged by Capital Radio, but gave KISS FM nothing to worry about. After Blackburn had left BBC Radio One, he had criticised the station in the harshest tones. Then, after he had left BBC Radio London, he had criticised that station too. Blackburn was highly self-opinionated and conveniently seemed happy to damn any station that was not his current employer.
I suggested that, if Blackburn’s main criticism of KISS FM was that it sounded very different from Capital Radio, then it should be taken as a compliment. The huge volume of market research I had commissioned pre-launch demonstrated conclusively that, if KISS FM had launched sounding the same as every other music radio station, it would fail. It was our station’s very differences from its competitors that would make us successful. In fact, Blackburn’s stance in criticising KISS FM should only demonstrate to us that he had no idea what young people wanted from a radio station. His criticisms might even encourage more young people to listen to KISS FM than if he had said that he loved the station.
McNamee seemed unconvinced by my arguments. He was wounded by Blackburn’s comments and suddenly seemed filled with self-doubt about the station’s ‘different’ sound. I was reminded of the accusations he had lobbed in my direction late one night before the station’s launch – that it was I who would be personally responsible for the station’s failure. Now, at this management meeting, I was feeling that McNamee was too eager to blame me for Blackburn’s criticisms. Neither did I feel I was receiving support from the other heads of department present.
I could not understand what was going on inside my boss’ head. Had McNamee lost the courage of his convictions about the radio station he had co-founded? Rather than be a strong leader who demonstrated commitment to his loyal staff, McNamee already seemed to be floundering, only days after the station had launched. Through its employee Tony Blackburn’s criticisms, Capital Radio had scored a direct hit on the managing director of its first ever competitor in the London commercial radio market. It seemed to be left to me now to hold the ship steady and to demonstrate that KISS FM would only succeed if it refused to follow Tony Blackburn’s ‘advice.’
Already, I was becoming used to hearing highly critical opinions expressed publicly about KISS FM. The station was being targeted by the DJs of radio stations competing with KISS FM, and by people who were themselves probably outside of the youth audience the station was seeking to attract. For me, the fact that long established radio stations were bothering to criticise KISS FM on national television must have meant that our new, little London radio station was worrying them considerably. They had not made similar comments when Jazz FM or ‘Melody Radio’ had launched. I felt that this validated what we were doing. However, these issues would not go away and, if anything, they had started to become more significant within the station.
At the beginning of October 1990, Gordon McNamee showed me a two-page letter that KISS FM non-executive director Tony Prince had written to him, criticising the station’s unprofessionalism and expressing doubts about the daytime music policy. I met with McNamee and head of marketing Malcolm Cox and, together, we drafted a detailed response for McNamee to send back to Prince. It explained that KISS FM sounded this way not because we were sloppy or unprofessional, but because all the pre-launch market research that the station had commissioned demonstrated that this was the style of broadcasting that would prove popular with young people. KISS FM’s potential audience had stated categorically that they would not tune to a new radio station that sounded like a pale imitation of BBC Radio One or Capital Radio.
Having received McNamee’s reply, Prince still expressed reservations about the station’s direction, so I was asked to meet him in the boardroom to discuss the matter. This was a rare occasion for me to chat with one of the station’s directors. Prince’s main criticism was that there were insufficient features in KISS FM’s daytime programmes, something that, he believed, made successful radio. Why, he asked me, were there not more competitions in the morning show aimed at housewives? Could not the station introduce recipes or features that would specifically attract housewives to listen? I explained to Prince that the notion that housewives constituted the majority of radio’s daytime audience was a myth. I had painstakingly analysed the radio industry audience data to determine KISS FM’s likely listenership during the day, and it was certainly not housewives. The commercial radio industry had propagated the myth of the ‘housewife’ listener since its inception in 1973. I was programming KISS FM to appeal to the agreed target audience of fifteen- to thirty-four-year-olds. I did not believe that they wanted silly competitions or recipes. Forty-six-year-old Prince listened to me, but still seemed unconvinced.
I knew that the only incontrovertible proof of the appropriateness of KISS FM’s current programming policy would be statistics that showed the station was attracting a significant audience. Fortunately, only a few days later, the station received the results of a market research survey that its advertising agency, BBDO, had commissioned. It showed that the station had just over 750,000 listeners between 19 and 25 September. These numbers were a solid indication that KISS FM was already on target to achieve the one million listeners it had promised advertisers by the following September. The figures also showed that 96% of listeners were within the ten- to thirty-four-year-old demographic that the station was targeting. McNamee called a meeting in the boardroom to inform the staff of this good news, and the station issued a press release the same day. More than anything, this press release helped calm the internal rumblings from Tony Prince.
Whilst I was pleased with the 750,000 figure, I knew that the only data that mattered were the official JICRAR radio industry numbers that would not be published until January 1991. Neither did I want the programming staff to think that the battle for listeners had already been won and that they could work less hard from now on. I circulated a note to all fifty-seven personnel in my department:
“Many thanks for all the hard work you’ve put in to help achieve these impressive results. We all need to keep it up so that we reach our ultimate goal of getting one million listeners tuned in … In the meantime, it’s worth remembering that that our first full-scale audience research is underway. JICRAR started last month and continues into December. Thousands of people all over London are filling in diaries right now every day with what they listen to on the radio hour by hour … So, we’ve come a long way in the first month. Let’s carry on in the knowledge that we’re on the right course and can turn KISS into the most successful new radio station ever heard in London.”
The target demanded of me by the business plan was to attract one million listeners per week by the end of KISS FM’s first year on-air. I achieved 1,078,000 listeners within the first few months (2.7% of London listening, 1990 JICRAR; growing to 3.4% in 1991), while the proportion of housewives listening to our daytime shows was proven to be a mere 9%. If I had failed, I would have been sacked. Once I succeeded, I was sacked anyway by a boss desperate to take the credit and my job [see blog]. I took no pleasure observing him then lead the station on a downward ratings spiral to a low of 2.3% (1993 JICRAR).
I never met or heard from Tony Prince again. I never met Tony Blackburn. Both had frustrated my work. Neither had managed the launch of a new radio station, let alone one with a ground-breaking music format that truly became “the most successful new radio station ever heard in London” … since Capital Radio’s arrival on 16 October 1973.
August 1989. There was a momentary lull in the usually frenetic activity at the [former Londonpirate radio station] ‘KISS FM’ office, whilst we awaited the next Independent Broadcasting Authority [IBA] announcement that would give specific details of the application procedure for the two new London FM [commercial radio] licences on offer. [KISS FM co-founder] Gordon McNamee turned his attention to other matters, since he understood that there was still no guarantee of KISS FM winning the licence, even on its second attempt.
On several occasions, I had mentioned to McNamee my belief that there existed significant untapped commercial potential in KISS FM’s magazine, ‘The Written Word.’ A year earlier, the publication had started life as a single A3 sheet newsletter, entitled ‘94,’ that had been produced on a word processor and had been printed without photographs. At that time, it had been intended solely as an update for the station’s fans and its main feature had been the KISS FM programme schedule. As the station’s mailing list increased in size, so too had the content of the magazine. By the final issue of The Written Word, the thirty-two pages had included lots of photos, recordreviews, interviews and information about the London dance music scene. There were also several pages of paid-for advertisements which had helped to defray the increasing costs of printing and postage.
For several years, I had been fascinated by the proliferation of free magazines in London, with weekly titles such as ‘Ms London,’ ‘Girl About Town’ and ‘Midweek’ handed out during the morning rush hour to thousands of commuters at London’s railway and underground stations. For revenue, these magazines depended entirely upon the advertising space they sold, but their distribution costs were low and their print runs were huge. An increasing number of more specialist magazines were being produced and financed in this way. Travelling through Waterloo railway station one day, I had been handed a free entertainment and what’s on magazine that was aimed specifically at high earning commuters living in the suburbs. In my area of Northwest London, I regularly received a free copy of a general interest, colour magazine aimed at homeowners in the locality.
One of the problems KISS FM had encountered with The Written Word was the huge cost of sending out thousands of copies of each issue individually to every person on the station’s growing mailing list. I believed that these expenses could be reduced dramatically by distributing the magazine as a free giveaway to a wider readership that would pick it up from dance music record shops, music venues and clubs in London. Many more copies would have to be printed to circulate the magazine in this way, but the advertising space within it could be sold at a much higher price, since it would be reaching many more readers. Instead of being solely a KISS FM publicity vehicle, the enlarged publication could be London’s first giveaway magazine to be aimed specifically at the city’s dance music community.
McNamee liked my idea and could see the potential it offered him to earn much needed revenue to cover the overheads of running the KISS FM office. After several weeks discussing with him my proposal for the magazine, McNamee asked if I would like to launch the project and be its editor. I had experience in this field, having been editor of the student newspaper [‘Palatinate’] and student handbook whilst at university, and having launched an independent music magazine [‘N.E.’] in Northeast England. I accepted McNamee’s job offer and handed in my notice to the record company where I had worked during the last two years. McNamee said he would pay me £100 for three days’ work each week, plus eight per cent of the net profits generated by the magazine. Although this worked out to be less money than I had earned from the record company, I believed that the new job would improve my career prospects and provide an opportunity to be more closely involved with KISS FM.
Besides, my recent experiences with the record company had left me frustrated and eager to explore a new work opportunity. Back in 1985, whilst working in Israel, I had discovered a female singer named Ofra Haza whose music, a kind of ‘Middle East meets West’ sound, I believed would be marketable in Europe. Since then, I had worked hard promoting her music and had succeeded in achieving airplay on national radio in the UK and positive press coverage. By 1989, one of the Ofra Haza songs I had found in Israel four years earlier had reached number fifteen in the UK singles chart. It was released by the independent record company for which I had been working. I asked the company for some compensation towards all the work I had done to make this artist a success, including a UK artist interview tour I had arranged in early 1989. The directors had met and decided to offer me a cheque for £200. I felt insulted by this amount, particularly as my years of work had given the company its biggest chart hit in a long time. Worse, the credit for Ofra Haza’s chart success was being taken in press interviews by someone else working at the record label. Now, all I wanted to do was quit the company, having earned almost nothing from four years of work having created Israel’s biggest international pop music star, and yet not having even gained any recognition.
I started work at the Blackstock Mews office on 22 August 1989, the first occasion I had earned money from KISS FM, despite having been involved in the business since the beginning of the year. I had been spending more and more time in the office, working with the other staff, but had never been offered remuneration. I looked forward to becoming a proper employee, although the one person in the organisation who did not seem to welcome my appointment as editor of the new publication was Lindsay Wesker [son of playwrightSir Arnold Wesker]. He had been editor of The Written Word, until its recent closure, and he probably felt that this experience, combined with his previous work for the ‘Black Echoes’ music paper, should have made him the ideal candidate for this new post. McNamee told me privately that he was well aware of Wesker’s antipathy towards my appointment, but assured me that he wanted fresh blood to be in charge of the project.
The day after I handed in my notice to the record company, I convened an evening meeting at the KISS FM office to discuss the new magazine. After a considerable amount of brain-storming, [co-worker] Heddi Greenwood suggested it could be titled ‘Free!’ reflecting not only the fact that it was to be a giveaway magazine, but also the notion of personal freedom to which dance music fans would be able to relate. Her suggestion was accepted unanimously. It was agreed that the first monthly issue would be published at the beginning of October 1989, that the print run would be around 30,000, and that the magazine should divorce itself entirely from the KISS FM campaign for a radio licence that had dominated The Written Word. Everyone felt that it was most important for the magazine to be viewed as an authoritative, independent guide to the London dance music scene. Heddi Greenwood would handle the advertising sales for the magazine, and McNamee had appointed Lindsay Wesker its deputy editor in a gesture of reconciliation. I set to work writing a substantial business plan that outlined the magazine’s purpose and ethos, which would also be used in presentations to potential advertisers. Over several pages, I defined the editorial content of Free!, its intended readership and the reasons I believed it would prove so successful.
Now that I had become the fifth paid worker in the KISS FM office, McNamee arranged a second-handdesk and phone extension for my arrival. I was now working at Blackstock Mews on a regular basis, from which I gained a greater insight into the way in which the members of the KISS FM team worked and their respective roles within the organisation.
I was busy putting together the blueprint for the new Free! magazine. I visited a cheap photo-typesetting company in Brighton, commissioned quotes from printing companies, called meetings in the office of potential contributors, and commissioned a logodesign. McNamee was becoming increasingly enthused about the potential profit offered by the new magazine, and so he quickly became more involved in its day-to-day running. He had almost stopped talking about KISS FM altogether and, despite our awareness that the new London FM licences were in the pipeline, McNamee directed the whole office’s efforts into this new publishing venture.
One extremely hot and sunny weekend in late August, the KISS FM staff spent the whole of Saturday and Sunday transforming the hitherto unused downstairs room at Blackstock Mews into an office for Free! All the accumulated rubbish was completely cleared out and the dark, dreary room was repainted – ceiling, walls, floor, everything. McNamee bought a job lot of small second-hand desks, which were moved outside to the Mews for us to paint in gloss black. The office stereo system was rigged up outdoors to provide us with musical entertainment, and McNamee dug out some old cassette recordings of programmes from KISS FM’s pirate days, which he had kept in his desk drawers, to entertain everyone.
Some brand-new shelves and storage units were purchased from the IKEAfurniture store, which McNamee and I assembled in the new downstairs office. There was one piece of furniture with which McNamee became obsessed: the construction of a huge, rectangular glass-topped table, more than six feet in length. It was the closest he could achieve, for now, to the impressive pieces of furniture he had admired in the opulent boardrooms of KISS FM’s new, corporate shareholders. Between the clear glass table top and its feltunderlay, McNamee spent hours carefully positioning press articles about KISS FM and pages from The Written Word magazine, along with some of the station’s publicity materials. Once the glass top had been screwed down to the base, the whole thing looked remarkably like a personal shrine to the KISS FM pirate radio station that McNamee used to run and to the commercial radio business to which he aspired.
One chapter in his business career now having ended, McNamee seemed determined to bury the deep disappointment of the failed [first] KISS FM licence bid and, instead, to put all his energies into turning my idea for Free! magazine into the money-spinner he longed for. The dream of KISS FM radio was very quickly being forgotten.
When I had accepted the job of editor, McNamee had promised that I would also be spending some of my time working on the second licence application, but the launch of Free! was proving to be very demanding and there was still little sign of action within the organisation about the radio licence.
McNamee hardly ever mentioned KISS FM any more, and the only aspect of the second licence application that seemed to occupy him was satisfying the chairman’s desire to assemble an advisory committee. Since the failure of the first bid, there had not been a single office meeting to discuss what had gone well or badly in the previous campaign, or to analyse what had been the good and bad points of the application. Whenever I broached the subject of the second licence bid with McNamee, he would shrug it off and change the subject to the potential success of Free! magazine, which had overtaken KISS FM as his pet project. This state of affairs frustrated me immensely, because it seemed as if McNamee had lost interest in making a second licence bid at all. He had already discarded KISS FM’s past and the possibility of winning second time around. In fact, McNamee had confided in a close friend, Joe Strong, manager of Dingwalls venue in Camden, that losing the licence had left him “absolutely devastated” and “absolutely inconsolable.”
I was perplexed. I arranged to meet a fellow journalist and radio worker, Daniel Nathan, whom I had known since moving to London in 1986, and with whom I felt I could discuss this problem. As the two of us walked across Blackheath one weekend, I ranted to Nathan about how incredibly close I thought KISS FM was to winning a licence on this second occasion, and how frustrating it was that McNamee seemed intent on wasting the opportunity. I had been the only member of the KISS FM team to attend the IBA press conference announcing ‘London Jazz Radio’s win (Nathan had been there too) and it was obvious to me how much enthusiasm some of the IBA staff had shown towards KISS FM’s bid. This time, there was likely to be a similar number of applicants for the two new licences and, unless KISS FM could submit an almost perfect application, the IBA would feel duty bound to award licences to other groups who proved that they were better organised.
Talking to Nathan clarified, in my own mind, the gravity of the situation. These two new London licences were likely to be the last on offer until sometime in the mid-1990’s. To throw away the chance of winning a black music station for radio listeners in London at this stage would be utterly crazy, particularly after so many people had campaigned for so many years in the hope of just such an eventuality. I decided that, even if McNamee was prepared to remain slumped despondently in his office chair, consigning KISS FM to a space in his glorious past, I certainly was not. If he wanted to wallow in his own despair, that was fine with me. He could carry on playing nostalgic tapes of his old KISS FM shows to everyone in the office, as he had been during recent weeks, but I was determined to do something more positive about winning the station a licence.
On returning to work the following week, at the first opportune moment, I confronted McNamee across his desk in the open plan KISS FM office. Why was he not doing anything about the second licence bid? Did he not believe KISS FM could win? If everyone else still had faith in KISS FM, was he not letting them all down? Was any work being done on a revised application? Was not Free! magazine merely a short-term distraction? Almost anyone could start a new magazine, but how many people could win a radio licence? Why had he slumped into total inaction? As I questioned McNamee, I could sense the other staff at their desks in the office trying to bury their heads in work and look as if they were not listening to our conversation. I explained to McNamee that I thought he was throwing away the biggest business opportunity he was ever likely to encounter in his life. I told him that, of the people within the KISS FM office, I seemed to be the best qualified person to organise and co-ordinate the second licence application [having previously researched and written successful project applications to Durham University, Manpower Services Commission, Northern Arts and Princes Trust]. For the moment, that work seemed to me to be a far more appropriate use of my skills than editing Free!, particularly as nobody else seemed to be doing anything about the KISS FM bid.
I suggested to McNamee that someone else should be brought in to edit Free! magazine while I devoted my full attention to re-working the KISS FM licence application. I had already prepared the groundwork for the new magazine during the last month, and the project could easily be handed over to another editor at this stage. On the other hand, if we did not act on the KISS FM bid now, we would never be offered another chance.
During this monologue, McNamee listened to me, smiled a lot, but said virtually nothing in reply. I could sense that, deep inside, he was incredibly angry that anyone should even dare to challenge his authority in this way. I had seen him act this way before, but only when directing his anger towards others who had displeased him. Instead of showing any response of anger or emotion, McNamee just glowered at you and clammed up. It was his usual cold shoulder treatment – ex-communication rather than confrontation – and you had to wonder whether he was already plotting some ghastly revenge to extract upon you in the future for your supposed crime. McNamee continued to be wholly unresponsive to my questions, so I told him that I planned to start work immediately on KISS FM’s application and that, initially, I planned to do some research in the comparative peace of my home. I promised I would willingly explain and hand over all the tasks I had completed on Free! magazine to whomsoever he wished. After all my suggestions, McNamee still offered me no response, so I gathered together my work and left the office.
After that ‘meeting,’ it was almost a week before I heard anything at all from McNamee. I had been busy working at home, as I had planned, and although I had regular telephone conversations with the other staff in the KISS FM office, McNamee had carefully avoided any contact with me. To me, this sort of behaviour appeared incredibly childish – McNamee seemed to be putting the vanity of his own ego above the need for his radio station to win a licence. Then, late one evening, he phoned me from home. He offered no explanation or apology for his attitude towards me that day in the office, and he gave no reason as to why he had failed to contact me at all during the intervening week. Our conversation was unemotional and business-like. He told me that, from now on, he would pay me £100 for spending three days each week working on the KISS FM licence application. He said he wanted more of my time, but I explained that I had other work commitments during the week on which I could not renege. He made it sound as if this arrangement had just come to him in a flash of inspiration, and that his offer was obviously too good for anyone to turn down.
He also told me that I would no longer be involved in Free! magazine in any capacity. He wanted me to visit the office and hand over all my paperwork to the newly appointed editor, who would be Lindsay Wesker. Finally, he disclosed the caveat that must have taken him almost a week to concoct. When my work on the licence application ended in November, I would no longer be paid by KISS FM, and neither could I resume the editorship of Free! magazine. In essence, I was being allowed to have my own way in the short term but, in the end, I had been made to sacrifice a permanent job at KISS FM. I would be forced to look elsewhere for work once the licence application process was over. This did not worry me excessively because I sincerely believed that KISS FM could win the licence this time around, whereas McNamee seemed already to have resigned himself to failing on the second occasion. This new arrangement cut my pay to a basic £100 per week, because I would no longer draw the percentage of profit that McNamee had previously agreed I would derive from Free! magazine. I was not told the details of the deal that McNamee had struck with Wesker to take over editorship of Free!, but Wesker could not hide his delight at assuming the position he must have felt he had always deserved.
However, when the much delayed first issue of Free! was eventually published at the beginning of November, Wesker’s tendency to indulge himself shone from the inside of the magazine. He contributed one page of his own photos and three and a half pages of his record reviews to the beginning of that first edition. These reviews included glowing critiques of a single released by KISS FM’s own label ‘Graphic Records’ and of a track recorded by Wesker’s partner, Claudette Patterson. I was no longer allowed any involvement in Free! and my name was deleted from the magazine’s masthead, in disregard of my work developing the original idea and setting the project in motion. Free! had been my ‘baby’ and I had had to sacrifice it for KISS FM. From then on, Wesker spent most of his time in the downstairs Free! office at Blackstock Mews, while the rest of us continued to work upstairs on the business of KISS FM and Goodfoot Promotions [Limited].
Personally, I was very disappointed to no longer be involved in the launch and organisation of Free! magazine. However, I firmly believed that KISS FM would win the London licence if I could come up with the necessary facts and figures in this second version of the application form. There would always be another opportunity in the future for me to launch a new publishing project. Right now, this might be the last opportunity I would have to win London a black music radio station. The hard work had only just begun, and a lot of responsibility was suddenly resting upon my shoulders.
February 1990. During recent months […], Lindsay Wesker had become totally absorbed in his role as editor of the monthly magazine Free! and he was now spending little time on KISS FM matters. The February 1990 edition of the magazine presented the first opportunity for KISS FM to explain, in its own words, exactly how it had won its [second application for a] radio licence. Wesker wanted to write the article, but McNamee intervened and insisted that I should pen the two-page feature. Despite the magazine having been my original idea, this was the only occasion I was asked to contribute to Free!, and then only because McNamee had insisted. Wesker seemed incredibly territorial about the project he now viewed as ‘his baby,’ and he appeared to like to do as much of the work on the magazine himself as was possible.
June 1990. The next job appointment I needed to make was the station’s record librarian, who would be supervised by KISS FM’s head of music, Lindsay Wesker. Since taking over the editorship of Free! magazine from me the previous year, Wesker had had little involvement in the re-launch of KISS FM. He seemed almost obsessed with the monthly magazine, spending many late nights in the ground floor office writing articles and reviewing records. Since Wesker had no prior commercial radio experience to contribute, I had not been particularly worried by his absence. However, the person appointed as record librarian would report to Wesker, which is why it was vital for him to be involved in their selection. I loaned Wesker a large folder of all the applications I had received for this job [I had advertised in ‘The Guardian’ newspaper] and I asked his opinion of which might be the most suitable to interview.
The next day, Wesker returned the folder to me, having marked the handful of candidates he felt were most suitable. I looked through his selection and was puzzled by his choices. I asked him why he had chosen those particular applicants, none of whom had previous library experience. He explained that there were two qualities he had been looking for – the candidates had to demonstrate knowledge of dance music, and they had to be female. At first, I thought he was joking, but I quickly discovered that he was not. Wesker explained to me his theory that a record librarian had to be a woman, and stated that he was not interested in working with someone who was not a proven expert in dance music. I was shocked that Wesker could be so irrational in choosing a suitable person for the job. His method of appointing staff was proving to be as bizarre as that of McNamee.
February 1991. Gordon McNamee [now KISS 100 FM managing director] suddenly announced that the station would no longer publish Free! magazine after the January 1991 issue. I was proud to have created the idea for the magazine a year and a half earlier. Although I was no longer associated with its editorial team, I was sad to see Free! close just as KISS FM was proving to be a success with listeners. McNamee explained that the magazine was no longer earning sufficient revenues from advertising to cover its printing costs. However, there were rumours of other reasons for the closure. It was alleged that two KISS FM directors wanted to close Free! because it clashed with their publishing interests. Tony Prince owned the monthly ‘MixMag’ magazine which had recently switched from subscription-only to retail sales. Free! would be a direct competitor. It was also alleged that KISS FM shareholder EMAP [plc] planned to launch its own monthly dance music magazine. Free! would be a direct competitor. Fortunately, Free! found an alternative financial backer and was reborn [under new ownership] as ‘Touch’ magazine, which published similar editorial content.
Once Free! had moved out, the large downstairs room on the ground floor of the [KISS 100 FM] Holloway Road building suddenly looked very empty. I spent an evening picking through the debris left in the office of the magazine that had started life as ‘94’ in July 1988, and which had been such an important part of the pirate station’s campaign to win a licence. Free!’s sudden closure was a bad omen. Staff in the building started whispering about further cuts that might be made to save the company money.
FREE!, nos. 1-15 (November 1989 – January 1991), London.
Having purchased my first soul record (‘Time Is Tight’, Booker T & the MG’s, Stax 119) in 1969, I had been thrilled in 1973 to find a new homegrown monthly colour magazine ‘Black Music’ on the shelves of my local newsagent. I devoured every issue cover-to-cover until its closure in 1984 and wrote to many of its advertisers selling soul and reggae records. I could never have imagined then that, almost two decades hence, I would become the founder of Britain’s longest running monthly black music magazine, created as ‘Free!’ and renamed ‘Touch’ until its closure in 2001.
31 March 1990 was the memorable day when London‘s first licensed [South Londoncommunity of interest] black music station, ‘Choice 96.9 FM’, arrived on-air. Until then, the availability of black music on legal radio had been limited to a handful of specialist music shows, even though about half of the singles sales chart was filled with black music. The decision by then regulator the Independent Broadcasting Authority [IBA] to license a London black music station was part of a huge government ‘carrot and stick’ campaign to rid the country of pirate radio. On the one hand, new draconian laws had been introduced that made it a criminal offence even to wear a pirate radio tee-shirt or display a pirate radio car sticker. On the other hand, the establishment knew that some kind of olive branch had to be offered to the pirate stations and their large, loyal listenership.
Many pirate stations, having voluntarily closed down in the hope of becoming legitimate, were incensed when the IBA instead selected Choice FM for the new South London FM license. Its backers had no previous experience in the London pirate radio business, but had previously published ‘Root’ magazine for the black community in the 1970’s. Although it was impossible for one station to fill the gap left by the many pirates, Choice FM tried very hard to create a format that combined soul and reggaemusic with news for South London’s black community, which was precisely what its licence required. The station attracted a growing listenership and it brought a significant new audience to commercial radio that had hitherto been ignored by established stations. With Choice FM, the regulator succeeded in fulfilling two aspects of public broadcasting policy: widening the choice of stations available to the public; and filling gaps in the market for content that only pirate radio had supplied until then.
In 2000, Choice FM won a further licence to cover North London with an additional transmitter. For the first time, the station was now properly audible across the whole capital and had access to more listeners and more potential advertisingrevenues. Its listening doubled and, at its peak in 2006, Choice FM achieved a 2.8% share, placing it ahead of ‘TalkSport’ and ‘BBC London’ in the capital. Choice FM had no direct competitor in London, although indirectly some of its music had always overlapped ‘KISS FM’. The station’s future looked rosy.
However, the Choice FM shareholders must have realised just how much their little South London station was worth, at a time when commercial radio licences were being acquired at inflated prices. Already, in 1995, Choice FM shareholders had won a second licence in Birmingham, but had then sold the station in 1998 for £6m to the Chrysalis plc group, who turned it into another local outlet for its network dance music station ‘Galaxy FM’. At a stroke, the black community in Birmingham had lost a station that the regulator had awarded to serve them. Black radio in Birmingham was dead. The die was cast.
The then regulator, the Radio Authority, had rubber-stamped this acquisition, stating that it would not operate against the public interest. The Authority requested some token assurances: at least one Afro-Caribbean member on the station’s board; an academy for training young people, especially from the black community, in radio skills; and market research about the impact of the format change on the black community. None of these made any difference to what came out the loudspeaker. Birmingham’s black community was sold down the river.
Changes in UKmedia ownership rules were on the horizon that would soon allow commercial radio groups to own many more stations within a local market. As a result, in 2001, the UK’s then largest radio group, Capital Radio plc, acquired 19% of Choice FM’s London station for £3.3m with an option to acquire the rest. In 2003, it bought the remaining 81% for £11.7m in shares, valuing the London station at £14.4m. The Choice FM shareholders had cashed in their chips over a five-year period and had generated £21m from three radio licences. What would happen to Choice FM London now?
Graham Bryce, managing director of Capital Radio’s London rock station ‘Xfm’ (which Capital had acquired in 1998 for £12.6m), said then:
“Our vision is to build Choice into London’s leading urban music station, becoming the number one choice for young urban Londoners. Longer term, we intend to fully exploit the use of digital technology to build Choice nationally into the UK’s leading urban music station and the number one urban music brand.”
Capital Radio and subsequent owners seemed to want to turn Choice FM into a station that competed directly with KISS FM (owned by rival EMAP plc). But they never seemed to understand that KISS FM was now a ‘dance/pop’ station, whereas Choice FM had always been firmly rooted in the black music tradition of soul, reggae and R&B. Such semantics seemed to be lost on Choice FM’s new owners and on the regulator, but certainly not on Choice FM’s listeners, who had no interest in Kylie Minogue songs.
In 2004, Capital Radio moved Choice FM out of its South London base and into its London headquarters in Leicester Square. The station’s final link with the black community of South London it had been licensed to serve was discarded. In 2005, Capital Radio merged with another radio group, GWR plc, to form GCap Media plc. In March 2008, [offshore] Global Radio Ltd bought GCap Media for £375m. In July 2008, Choice FM managing director Ivor Etienne was suddenly made redundant. One of the station’s former founder shareholders commented:
“I’m disappointed that the new management decided to relieve Ivor Etienne so quickly. My concern is that I hope they will be able to keep the station to serve the community that it was originally licensed for.”
However, from this point forwards, it was obvious that new owner Global Radio had no interest in developing Choice FM as one of its key radio brands. In the most recent quarter, the station’s share of listening fell to an all-time low of 1.1% (since its audience has been measured Londonwide). Sadly, the station is now a shadow of its former self, even though it holds the only black music commercial radio licence in London (BBCdigital black music station ‘1Xtra’ has failed to dent the London market, with only a 0.3% share).
This week, news emerged from Choice FM that its reggae programmes, which have been broadcast during weekdayevenings since the station opened, will be rescheduled to the middle of the night (literally). One of the UK’s foremost reggae DJ‘s, Daddy Ernie, who has presented on Choice FM since its first day, will be relegated to the graveyard hours when nobody is listening. From 2003, after the Capital Radio takeover, reggae songs have been banished from the 0700 to 1900 daytime shows on Choice FM. Now the specialist shows will be removed from evenings, despite London being a world centre for reggae and having more reggae music shops than Jamaica.
Station owner Global Radio responded to criticism of these changes in ‘The Voice’ newspaper: “Choice [FM] has introduced a summer schedule which sees various changes to the station including the movement of some of our specialist shows.”
Once again, the regulator will roll over obligingly and rubber-stamp these changes. For Global Radio, the endgame must be to transform the standalone Choice FM station into a London outlet for its Galaxy FM network. At present, London-based advertisers and agencies can only listen to Galaxy on DAB or via the internet. A London Galaxy station on FM would bring in more revenue for the brand as a result of more listening hours and its higher profile in the advertising community. It would also provide a direct competitor to KISS FM London (ironic, because Galaxy FM had been launched in 1990 by an established commercial radio group as an out-of-London imitation of successful, London-only KISS FM). Global Radio’s argument to persuade the regulator will probably be that Choice FM’s audience has fallen to uneconomic levels. And whose fault was that?
Already, Global Radio’s website tells us that “Choice FM is also included as part of the Galaxy network” which “consists of evolving mainstream music supported by entertaining and relatable presenters.” And yet, according to Ofcom, Choice FM’s licence is still for “a targeted music, news and information service primarily for listeners of African and Afro-Caribbean origin in the Brixton area but with cross-over appeal to other listeners who appreciate urban contemporary black music.” How can both these assertions be true of a single station?
For the black community in London, and for fans of black music, this will be the final straw. Just as happened in Birmingham, the new owner and the regulator will have collectively sold Choice FM’s listeners down the river. Another station that used to broadcast unique content for a unique audience will have been wilfully destroyed in order to make it almost the same as an existing station, playing almost the same content. We have many commercial radio stations, but less and less diversity in the music they play. Radio regulation has failed us.
For Choice FM, the writing was on the wall in 2003 when Capital Radio bought the station and one (unidentified) former DJ commented:
“Choice [FM] was there for a reason [to be a black music station for black people], but that reason changed [since] 13 years ago. That’s why you’ve got over 30 pirate stations in London. If Choice FM kept to the reason why they started, you wouldn’t need all them stations. But Choice has become a commercial marketplace. They’ve sold the station out and they should just say they’ve sold the station out. What’s wrong with that? They have sold the station that was set up for the black community and they know they’ve done the black community wrong. But they’ve made some money and they’ve sold it. Why not let your listeners know?”
For me personally, as a black music fan and having listened to Daddy Ernie for twenty years, I am much saddened. In the 1970’s and 80’s, I had found little on the radio that interested me musically, so I listened to pirate stations and my own records. During those two decades, I actively campaigned for a wider range of radio stations to be licensed in the UK and, by the 1990’s, I had played a direct role in making that expansion of new radio services happen successfully. Where did it get us? Now, years later, I have gone back to listening mostly to pirate radio and my own records (and internet radio). I am sure I am not the only one.
The radio industry and the regulator seem not to understand one important reason why radio listening and revenues have been declining for most of the last decade. They need to examine how, through their decisions, they have consistently sold down the river their station audiences and the very citizens whom their radio licenses were specifically meant to serve. Listeners vote with their ‘off’ buttons when station owners renege on their licence promises and the regulator lets them. Choice FM is sadly just one example.
“Is there room to bring the content of illegal stations into the fold? One way or another, whether we like it or not, we have a large population out there listening to illegal radio. Why do they listen? We are trying to find out. But, if you listen to the stations, they are producing slightly different content and output [from licensed stations]. Some of it is very high quality. Some of it is very interesting. So, what options are there for bringing some of that content into mainstream radio?”
Seemingly, none. The last FM commercial radio licence the regulator offered in London was more than a decade ago. Last year, when two small South London FM stations (one licensed for a black music format) were closed by their owner, the regulator unilaterally decided not to re-advertise their commercial radio licences (see my story here). A pirate radio station has not been awarded a commercial radio licence by the regulator for two decades.
Why do pirate radio stations still exist? Because, just as in the 1970’s and 1980’s, there are huge gaps in the market for radio content that – in spite of BBC radio, commercial radio and their regulators – remain unfilled. It is no coincidence that the share of listening to ‘other’ radio stations (i.e. not BBC radio and not commercial radio) in London is near its all-time high at 3.1%.
Farewell, Choice FM. I knew you well for twenty years.
In March 1989, an advertisement appeared in the press, seeking staff to work for a new radio industry magazine. There had been several attempts to publish a radio-only trade publication since the launch of commercial radio in 1973, all of which had ended in failure. The industry had still not become large enough to sustain substantial amounts of paid-for advertising, or to build a large enough circulation to make such a publication financially viable. Then, EMAP plc, a major publisher of consumer magazines and regional newspapers, announced plans to launch ‘Radio & Music’, a fortnightly, glossy magazine aimed at the music radio sector. EMAP had established its reputation as one of the twenty fastest growing companies in the UK, with an annual turnover of £189m. It believed the time was right for a radio publication: “The radio industry is undergoing a radical change and deserves a radical voice to reflect the new environment … We will be the sole magazine devoted to the radio industry in all its guises …”
I was eager to secure further outlets for my writings about the radio industry, so I rang the phone number in the recruitment advert. I spoke to Brian Davis, the magazine’s managing editor, and arranged to meet him at EMAP’s John Street office at 6 pm on 22 March. There, on the top floor of ‘MEED House’, I found a group of advertising executives selling space in EMAP magazines by phone with a ferocity and aggressiveness I had never before witnessed. Davis greeted me warmly and the two of us moved into the penthouse meeting room, where he expanded upon the philosophy behind the magazine’s launch. I ran through my experience in radio [pirate radiopresenter/producer since 1972; executed turnaround strategy in 1980-81 of Newcastle’s ‘Metro Radio’ whose “audience figures show[ed] the greatest improvement [of all UK commercial stations]” and were “the highest since the station’s establishment” according to the IBA regulator; managed the production team at London community station ‘Radio Thamesmead’ in 1986; project manager at London’s ‘Capital Radio’ in 1986-88], and my writings about the radio industry [Radio Editor at London consumer magazine ‘City Limits’ since 1988; Radio Editor at ‘For The Record’ trade magazine in 1989], and I expressed interest in writing for the magazine in either a full-time or freelance capacity. Davis showed me the draft layout of a pilot issue scheduled for April publication, and he asked my opinion of some of the planned content.
He expressed interest in employing me in some capacity on the magazine, and asked me to submit two examples of my work: an opinion piece on one aspect of the radio industry that I felt was pertinent to the magazine’s readership; and a list of twenty editorial items I felt should be included regularly in the new publication. I obliged by writing an editorial on the conservatism of commercial radio playlists, and I drafted a list of twenty suggested features that included:
“sit in on a particular show & examine success/failure
pick a city/area & examine the radio market
details of artists’ radio promotion tours
who’s pushing what – record companies/pluggers’ hitlists
giveaway sampler CDs.”
I sent my suggestions to Brian Davis and awaited his response. I was still keen to be more involved in [London pirate station] ‘KISS FM’, but it was not earning me any money. Right now, some additional income from writing about radio would be particularly useful for me. I was hoping that Davis might offer me a post or, at the very least, some freelance work. While I awaited a response to the ideas I had sent to Davis, the competition for the London-wide FM radio licence was intensifying.
In a seemingly unrelated occurrence, I attended the opening ceremony of the fifth ‘UK Music Radio Conference’ on the evening of 4 April 1989, organised by the ‘Radio Academy’ at the ‘HMV Megastore’ record shop in London’s Oxford Street. The event itself was largely an opportunity for the radio industry to indulge in mutual back-slapping, but I was there in the hope that it might provide some source material for a radio article. I bumped into Brian Davis, managing editor of publisher EMAP’s new magazine Radio & Music, to whom I had not spoken since our initial meeting the previous month. I had yet to receive a response from him to the ideas I had submitted. Davis introduced me to his associate publisher, Peter Gould, and we exchanged small talk about the magazine’s impending launch. Recognising me across the crowded room, KISS FM’s Lindsay Wesker came to join our conversation and, once I had introduced him to the others, the topic switched to the ex-pirate station’s prospect of winning a London FM licence. Gould was very enthusiastic about KISS FM’s chances and showed particular interest in learning that the station was seeking a further investor. He suggested that a meeting with his superiors at EMAP could prove productive.
In early April 1989, EMAP launched the pilot issue of Radio & Music magazine although, strangely, its editorial was not particularly positive about KISS FM’s chances of winning the London FM licence. From a personal perspective, I was frustrated to find that, during this and the magazine’s following issues, several feature ideas which I had proposed had been used. The magazine’s managing editor, Brian Davis, had never contacted me again.
In 1930, while the new London headquarters of the BBC, Broadcasting House, were being built, a venture called the International Broadcasting Company [IBC] launched from adjacent premises in Hallam Street. It sold commercial airtime to British advertisers and incorporated these messages into pre-recorded and live programmes for broadcast on European radio stations whose signals were audible in the UK. By 1938, IBC’s radio production facilities were some of the most sophisticated in London, as noted in its publicity material:
“…. our programme unit has been responsible for nearly five thousand broadcasts on behalf of advertisers. It is currently handling productions ranging from a single voice to a cast of dozens of artistes. Any advertising agent can place this highly-skilled and efficiently-equipped organisation at the disposal of his client at no higher cost than if he were producing programmes within his own Company”.
“…. fully equipped recording studios in the basement of the South East Wing, where previously there had been a swimming pool. The studio contained two full-sized concert grand pianos, one a Chappell, the other a Steinway”.
After the outbreak of the Second World War, the BBC became the beneficiary of these accumulated investments in independent radio production facilities because:
“when the BBC took over Bush House in wartime for overseas broadcasting, the JWT studios and tape-recorders became an immediate asset for the propaganda drive”.
Although the War necessitated an interruption to the practice of recording commercial radio programmes in London for broadcast on continental stations, the model was resumed in 1946, primarily through the evening English language broadcasts of Radio Luxembourg which ran until 1992. A number of independent radio production companies emerged in the post-war period, including Ross Radio Productions which, at its peak, was making 30 programmes per week using the IBC studios at 35 Portland Place, near to Broadcasting House.
After commercial radio was launched in 1973, its regulator established a ‘Programme Sharing Unit’ which enabled programmes made by one local station to be distributed free to stations in other local markets for broadcast, an initiative that created a quasi-national market in the sector for radio productions. In 1987, a company that grew out of Manchester based Piccadilly Radio, PPM Radiowaves, started to distribute its own programmes to local commercial radio stations.
BBC Network Radio started making independent radio commissions on an ad hoc basis in 1990, when a BBC memo had noted:
“BBC Radio has been considering the use of independent productions in recent years and it is highly probable that Radio 5 will shortly commission an independent production. The volume of such programmes will, however, be very small (certainly by comparison with BBC Television)”.
It was recognised that the economic model for an independent radio production sector would prove problematic:
“The much lower production costs in Radio mean that there is little or no potential profit for the independent producer from making the programme(s) …”.
The BBC considered the initial independent productions commissioned by Radio 5 to “be a pilot in this field [which] will enable us to assess clearly how such operations might best be handled in the future”. It cautioned: “How this market is likely to develop is uncertain”.
In April 1991, David Hatch, then managing director of BBC Radio, told a BBC Board of Management meeting that:
“… guidelines had been drawn up for the benefit of network controllers and heads of department on commissioning radio programmes from independent producers. They would be sent to the independent sector and to the talent unions for comment before being adopted”.
These guidelines were carefully worded so as to avoid the issue of the comparative costs of independent and in-house BBC productions. The member of staff charged with the task noted in a memo:
“I have revised the wording in paragraph 4.1, which is now silent on the question of whether we expect independent productions to cost more or less than our own programmes”.
However, a rate card for independent productions was circulated to BBC Network Radio controllers which suggested an average price of £2,782 per hour and offered guide prices for particular programme types:
£8,995 per hour for Features, Art & Education programmes
£10,430 per hour for drama programmes.
David Hatch told the BBC Board of Management that “the policy was to give gentle encouragement to a sector which was now in its infancy” and he noted several potential benefits for the BBC:
“One was to give the BBC access to programme material that might not otherwise be available
The second was the possibility of sharing costs with a producer who could sell the relevant programme to other markets
Thirdly, the BBC would be able to demonstrate that it was primarily concerned with the listener and not determined to defend the existing arrangements. By taking the initiative, it would be more likely to avoid the imposition of a quota”.
In October 1991, a BBC Task Force chaired by Mark Byford, then controller of regional broadcasting, published a report entitled ‘The BBC and the Independent Programme Makers’. Much of the report was concerned with the BBC’s ability to meet the 25% quota for independently produced television programmes that had been stipulated in the 1990 Broadcasting Act. However, one of the three key issues considered by the report concerned “the development of independently made programmes on BBC radio” which, until then, had only existed on an ad hoc basis.
The narrative of the BBC report referred to the principal reasons for commissioning independent programmes across radio and television:
“Independent programme makers will play an increasingly important role at the BBC. The best have proved that they have the ability to provide high quality and distinctive programmes. As well as bringing fresh ideas, they enable the BBC to ensure that its costs and work practices are as efficient as possible. The BBC must demonstrate more forcefully its commitment to the independent sector”.
Amongst the report’s 30 recommendations were several that proposed changes to BBC working practices:
“Recommendation 5: The BBC must not set a fixed level of in-house or independent commissions. The size of in-house teams will stand or fall on the quality of their ideas and programmes and their efficiency. They must compete on level terms with the independent sector.
Recommendation 6: The BBC will continue to need a substantial programme making capability and resource capacity. However, there must be no minimum level set for an in-house ‘critical mass.’
Recommendation 7: Staffing levels inside the BBC ought to be maintained at a trough level to fulfil only the core in-house programme making requirements at the time. Flexibility will become the key factor for future staffing levels and contractual employment. The ‘critical mass’ of in-house production will be retained on the basis of its talent…”.
The report did not shy away from the substantial internal impact of the BBC adopting a policy to increase the proportion of its broadcast output provided by external producers:
“Clearly, as more and more of the licence-payers’ money is being used to fund independent programming, there is, equally, less and less money available for in-house production. The extra money to finance the new commissioning of independents must come from a proportionate internal reduction. Hundreds of BBC jobs have been lost and the resource capacity has been reduced significantly, particularly in the closure of a number of television studios and editing facilities”.
Included in the report, alongside its recommendations, was a manifesto-style statement entitled ‘The Future Relationship between the BBC and the Independents’ which noted:
“The BBC must improve its relationship with the independent industry. It must be more open. It must be more efficient in its dealings with independent programme makers.
The commissioning process must be seen to be open, fair and consistent.
Although considerable progress has been made recently, the BBC must create a stronger perception that it is embracing Independents willingly. It must examine its present commissioning methods and speed up the decision-making process. Commissioning must be more responsive and more flexible.
There is still a perception, felt inside and outside the BBC, that some senior programme commissioners have too many ties to in-house production: ties of loyalty, of managerial necessity, of instinctive self protection and of ‘empire building’. These attitudes are unacceptable and must be transformed”.
The report was very clear in envisaging that the relationship between the BBC and the independent production sector would not be conducted purely at arms length:
“Recommendation 11: The best independent companies and their best programmes must be attracted to the BBC rather than its competitors. Independents must be recognised as being key players in fulfilling the BBC’s television mission ‘to provide the best television service in the world’. They must be treated as colleagues, not enemies.
Recommendation 12: The BBC must be more open about its commissioning. It must be willing to publish all relevant data with more authority and confidence. It must ensure that it establishes a clear and recognised method for producing and analysing statistics, agreed with the relevant outside bodies.
Recommendation 17: More independent programme makers must be encouraged to play an active part in the BBC programme review process”.
The final five of the report’s recommendations concerned what was referred to as “the development of independently made programmes on BBC radio”. The narrative explained:
“At present, there is no radio independent programme production sector of any consequence in Britain. The main reason has been the dominance of the BBC in network radio broadcasting.
BBC radio would benefit from the establishment of a radio independent programme making industry.
Many senior staff in BBC radio are dismissive of the concept of commissioning independents. They show a resistant attitude similar to that demonstrated by their television colleagues a decade ago.
As well as ‘opening up’ the airwaves to new ideas, new programme styles and new work practices, an independent radio sector would play a key role in testing the efficiency levels of in-house production. It would allow a more accurate total costing system and an internal market philosophy to be introduced”.
These statements demonstrated that it was the BBC’s initiative to develop an independent radio production sector, rather than a reaction to external pressures. In the television medium, an independent production sector had flourished following the launch of Channel 4 in 1982, all of whose output was externally commissioned. The report noted that, by 1991, there were “around a thousand companies” engaged in independent television production, compared to “only a handful of radio independents”.
The report admitted that “throughout the early 1980s, the BBC resisted any moves to use [television] independents at significant levels” and only capitulated following “a fierce and successful lobbying campaign […] conducted by the independents”. In developing the commissioning of independent productions within its television output, the report accepted that “the BBC was deemed to be slow off the mark”. Having been bruised by mounting external pressures in the television sector, the BBC was keen to demonstrate that it could take a more pro-active role in introducing independent productions into its radio output. In this respect, the report proposed:
“Recommendation 26: The BBC must encourage a radio independent programme making sector in order to introduce fresh ideas and to ensure that its costs and work practices are, and remain, efficient and competitive.
Recommendation 27: The BBC must set clear targets for independent commissions across all Network radio starting in 1992. The aim should be for 15% of all network radio output to be made outside by 1996, to be phased over the five year period.
Recommendation 28: Specialist music programming on Radio 1, Radio 2 and Radio 3, and comedy, features strands, factual programmes, entertainment and drama on all networks should be immediate targets.
Recommendation 29: Bi-media initiatives with established leading independent television companies ought to be identified as part of the process.
Recommendation 30: Bi-media forums involving programme departments inside the BBC – e.g. comedy, entertainment, youth programming, current affairs – should be held at least once a year to discuss possible bi-media ventures with independent companies”.
These recommendations were noteworthy on two counts. Firstly, the proposed independent quota of 15% was to be applied to the entire output of BBC Network radio, not to a restricted subset of ‘eligible’ programmes, as is presently the situation.
Secondly, the BBC’s ‘bi-media’ proposals envisaged that the commissioning process for independent radio productions would become part of a pan-BBC system organised around genres or programme types. This has not happened, a result of which is that the radio commissioning system remains embedded within individual radio Networks, each of which has its own procedures for submitting proposals and commissioning independently produced content. As a result, the notion that independent content suppliers could eventually become integrated into the wider BBC eco-structure has not been realised.
Six months prior to completion of this Task Force report, BBC Network Radio had announced publicly the launch of a £250,000 fund to commission independently produced programmes for broadcast on its five national Networks. David Hatch had said he hoped the money would “kick-start the infant radio sector into sustainable orbit”. However, the Task Force was of the opinion that this sum was “insufficient to create a flourishing independent sector”.
In his speech launching the fund, Hatch had outlined his hopes for the role of the independent radio production sector:
“We strongly believe that there should be more radio; not more of the same, but more genuine choice. There is an opportunity to move from the current set menu to ‘à la carte’. During the ‘90s, I hope independents will make ever increasing contributions to the BBC, bringing new voices, talents, skills and ideas to our output and listeners”.
In October 1991, Hatch told the BBC Board of Management that “no significant independent [production] sector yet existed in radio”. Later that month, an ‘open day’ for potential independent radio suppliers to BBC radio was organised in the Concert Hall in Broadcasting House, at which Hatch reiterated his commitment to “nurturing an independent radio sector”.
Afterwards, it was reported to the BBC Board of Management that:
“… the occasion had aroused keen interest. Some 350 people had attended and nearly 100 more had had to be turned away for lack of space, though their names had been taken and they had been promised a tape-recording of the proceedings. … Notwithstanding the large attendance at the seminar, the number of genuine independent production companies was still very small. Most of those who had come were individuals working freelance”.
At its December 1991 meeting, the BBC Governors agreed a proposal to:
“… set clear targets for independent commissions across all network radio, starting in 1992. … Further action on any of these [Task Force] recommendations will return to the Board of Management for consideration”.
Subsequently, the 15% quota for independent radio productions, advocated by the Task Force report, was reduced to 10%. A BBC memo noted:
“ … some of those who served on the ‘Independents’ Task Force now consider the 15% target for radio to be over optimistic, although there is no doubting the Corporate appetite for Radio to follow Television’s lead on Independent Production as a major plank in the BBC’s bid for Charter Renewal [in 1996]”.
In July 1992, in his keynote speech to the Radio Festival in Birmingham, then BBC director general Sir Michael Checkland announced that a 10% voluntary target would be achieved by 1996/7. The BBC believed that this target would:
“Demonstrate real commitment to develop the Independent Sector in Radio
Be both challenging and stretching, but realistic
Take account of the current level of development of the Radio Independent Production Sector
Establish a critical mass of Independent Producers and external facilities
Measure performance against a clear benchmarks [sic]”.
It was at this point that the notion of ‘qualifying output’ for the independent productions quota was applied to Network Radio, adopting existing criteria used for the statutory television quota which excluded live sports coverage and repeats from the metric. Additionally, news and current affairs programmes were excluded because they were the responsibility of a different BBC directorate. However, the long-term policy remained, as recommended by the Task Force, that competition for commissions should eventually embrace all areas of radio output, as a BBC policy document emphasised:
“Network Radio has no intention of ‘ring fencing’ areas of output as unsuitable for Independent Production or for wholesale transfer of entire production specialism [sic] into the Independent Sector. However, given the early stage of development of the Radio independent Sector and the complex nature of much of Network Radio output, it seems likely that Independent Commissions for live programmes, and those in complex journalistic areas and highly specialised areas, may be fewer in number in the early years”.
It was envisaged that the commissioning decisions would be made by departmental heads and editors:
“There are currently no plans to establish a central Independent Commissioning Unit as it is thought that this would be too far removed from the normal editorial process (as well as creating a new layer of administration during a period of Corporate contraction)”.
The financial aspects of commissioning independent productions were reiterated in the report:
“Cost cutting is not a primary aim of the move towards Independent Production, however Network Radio could not sanction the use of Licence Fee payers’ funds to external productions that are more expensive than the full internal costs of a similar programme. The Producer Choice initiative will shortly allow such a realistic comparison”.
Also, the consequences for in-house production departments were made clear:
“During 1992/3, a limited additional budget has been made available to Network Radio to encourage Independent Production but, beyond this point, such commissions will need to be funded directly from reductions in in-house commissions. It is crucial that Network Radio avoids the worst excesses of ‘double spend’ and that, as Independent Production increases, there is an equal decrease in in-house production capacity, support services, etc”.
Asked about the financial information required from independent producers, the chief accountant for BBC radio commented:
“I don’t think it is our business to ask an independent producer to prepare a budget. What we want from them is a price quotation. If that requires them to prepare a budget, that is their affair”.
During 1992, the BBC held a series of ‘Independents Day’ seminars for potential radio programme suppliers, covering topics such as the drafting of programme proposals, technical quality of productions, contracts and budgets. Participants were given an accompanying handbook, a set of BBC Guidelines and cassette recordings of Q&A sessions between David Hatch and each of the five Network controllers. A questionnaire circulated to potential programme suppliers had suggested to the BBC that sixty independent radio production companies could be in existence by 1996/7.
Internally, the BBC tried to determine the extent of redundancies in programme production that the policy to commission external programmes would necessitate, as evidenced by a memo sent to all BBC radio departments:
“… I would be grateful also if Production Business Unit Managers could give thought to the likely implications of Independent Production in their area on internal staff and studio resources. In other words, now you are aware from your Controllers of the expected targets for Independent Production from your Department, could you make a rough estimate of the possible reductions in internal staff, contract staff, studio usage, etc. that will result”.
A BBC policy statement on independent radio production was attached to the memo. It documented very clearly the initial strategies for commissioning external content:
“Independent Production has been slower to emerge in UK Radio than Television. The commercial sector of Radio is unlikely to represent a major source of growth for Independent Production, but the BBC has decided to take a lead in nurturing a valuable source of new ideas, programme making techniques and facilities. After experimenting with a number of Independent Commissions, the BBC formally committed itself to the concept of Independent Production in Network Radio in 1991. The reasons for this are as follows:
In an increasingly fragmented media industry, key talent may only be available to the Corporation via Independent Production
Independent Production offers a fresh source of creativity to assist Network Controllers meet editorial objectives
It is hoped that new perspectives on programme making, both editorially and in terms of production, will emerge
Independent Production offers a useful source of cost comparison with internal production and other sources of programme material”.
However, after launching the initiative, the BBC became increasingly aware that the potential profitability of the nascent independent radio production section was not guaranteed. Bill Morris, special assistant to the managing director of BBC Network Radio, told independents that they would need to generate a significant volume of output in order to become commercially viable:
“I would not want to discourage people putting forward ideas for single documentaries. But a look at the economics of radio tells you that you won’t be hugely viable if you only offer one-off documentaries. Experience from TV suggests this pattern will apply to radio”.
Morris promised that independent commissions would not become a dumping ground for cheap, off-peak radio programming:
“We are not going into this as a cost cutting measure. That would be disadvantageous in terms of the programming we might get”.
Some within BBC Network Radio expressed concerns about the impact and the quality of independent radio productions. For example, the then Radio 4 controller noted that “there is concern about the amount of radio talent outside our doors”. The editor of one production department noted that her team were “distressed to discover that only their sort of output was being offered to independents on Radios 3 and 4” which “led them to think that this department will be the only one to bear staff cuts”. Another department head commented:
“What I will not do is invite independent commissions on behalf of second-rate freelances or inexperienced wannabes who have not previously worked for Radio 4”.
There was also concern within the BBC about the capacity of the independent production sector. Only 11 companies had attended an ‘Independents’ Day’ seminar organised in December 1992 (although the £200 fee may have proven a barrier). A memo noted:
“Last autumn’s Concert Hall Open Meeting suggested that there might be a wealth of Independent Producers awaiting the chance to meet Commissions from Network Radio. With the benefit of hindsight, this perception may be premature. Many of those who attended were solo freelances without business or technical facilities, or access to them. There appears to be less than 20 active Radio Independent Production Companies, and a number of these are predominantly television organisations seeking to diversify or use spare capacity”.
Two initiatives surfaced within the BBC to help it fulfil its 10% quota commitment: ‘sweetheart’ deals and ‘privatisation’. One production department head enquired:
“What is/will be our position on sweet-heart deals? This is crucial. If funds are going to be made available to offer attractive redundancy packages to encourage good producers to provide the foundation for a quality independent sector, then we need to know …”.
Another production department head suggested that “Pebble Mill R4 strands might be privatised”, thus helping to achieve the quota by “encouraging staff producers to go independent, in some cases taking established strands with them”.
The controller of Radio 4 supplied a list of “strands we propose to ‘privatise’ either in full or in part for 1993/4 and 1994/5” that included ‘Gardeners’ Question Time’, ‘In The Psychiatrist’s Chair’, ‘Seeds Of Faith’ and ‘Down Your Way’.
In 1993, having succeeded David Hatch as managing director of BBC Radio, former Channel 4 executive Liz Forgan reviewed the Networks’ commissioning processes and expressed doubts that the independent radio production sector was sufficiently viable. She noted that there was no sign of independent productions being commissioned by the commercial radio sector and questioned the viability of independents making programmes solely for the BBC. Forgan also expressed concern about the feasibility of the Network Radio target of 2,700 hours of independent radio productions to be commissioned in total across all Networks by 1995.
In response to such doubts about the sector’s capability to fulfil the BBC quota, a new trade organisation, the Independent Association of Radio Producers, was created and its first meeting was held in May 1993. The BBC took an active role in its organisation and Bill Morris, special assistant to Liz Forgan, mailed out agendas for the initial meeting to producers and potential producers who had expressed an interest in supplying the BBC.
In conclusion, it is evident that the BBC decided to take the lead role in the creation of a ‘new’ independent radio production sector in 1992. Coincidentally, this was the same year that Radio Luxembourg finally closed its long-running English language service and, with it, withered the last vestiges of the ‘old’ independent radio production sector that had boomed in London’s post-War period.
The BBC decision to introduce independently commissioned programmes to its Network Radio output led directly to the sector that exists today. That decision and its consequences had not been taken lightly by the BBC, as a memo in 1992 had noted:
“If we seek to increase the number of Independently Produced programmes, BBC Network Radio will need to do more than express our enthusiasm. We shall have to grow the Independent Industry and offer it support and sustenance until it reaches any level of maturity. There appears to be no other source which we can look to for help in this”.
Alongside the revolution in television broadcasting, a similar battle of the airwaves is being waged on the radio. Will this forever wipe away the narrow choices offered by existing stations? Or is it possible to have faith in a revolution being waged from Downing Street? Grant Goddard examines the background to the first franchise application in London and looks at the way ahead for both winners and losers.
It was a little after 6am when Gordon Mac made his first phone call to the Independent Broadcasting Authority [IBA]. This was the long-awaited day when it would be announced whether his station ‘KISS FM’ had won the new Londonradio licence. But, despite an assurance that someone would be at work in the IBA’s Radio Division at this time, a recorded message merely told him to call again during normal office hours.
Mac was bursting to know whether the last seven month’s work making a huge written application to the IBA had been a success. KISS FM had earned an enviable reputation as London’s best dance music station during four years of pirate broadcasting.
But transmissions had been stopped from December ’88, in line with the government’s demands, to try and win the single London FM licence advertised by the IBA.
Mac left home in a hurry and drove across town to the KISS FM office in Finsbury Park. The railstrike had already clogged the streets with traffic, leaving him too much time to ponder the outcome of this crazy licence lottery.
By the time he reached the office just after 8am, the day’s post had already been delivered. The embossed IBA envelope enclosed a two-page letter, but the second sentence said it all: “I am afraid the decision is, for you and your colleagues, a disappointing one.”
Thirty other applicants were opening similarly apologetic letters across the city, but there was one group who could now celebrate in style – ‘London Jazz Radio’ [LJR] had just won the first new city-wide music radio licence since ‘Capital Radio’ in 1973.
The IBA’s press conference that afternoon was a strangely defensive affair. There were not many questions about LJR, but plenty of time was spent discussing why KISS FM had failed to win. Though the IBA refused to elaborate on the relative placings of the 31 losers, KISS FM was definitely in the short-list of five or six, and most probably the runner-up.
The awkward sensitivity shown towards KISS FM’s rejection reflects an awareness that they were certainly the public’s choice for a new London station. KISS FM was the only applicant to have already established a strong awareness among Londoners of its name, its music and its presenters.
The recent success of KISS FM team members Coldcut, Jazzie B, Richie Rich and Derek B in the popcharts has confirmed the station’s role as an important catalyst in the growth of home-produced dance music.
A further embarrassment was caused as this affair was the second occasion in recent years when a carrot has been dangled in front of pirate broadcasters to induce them to quit the airwaves. And the second time the carrot has been unexpectedly pulled away at the last minute.
The first voluntary pirate shutdown happened in 1985 when the Home Office encouraged them to apply for experimental community radio licences. Then, after lengthy prevarication and the receipt of 286 applications, the plan was abandoned.
The second carrot was offered last year with the unveiling of the IBA’s ‘incremental contract’ scheme for 21 new stations. Only those pirates who quit the airwaves before 1 January 1989 would be allowed to apply, so several stations (including KISS FM) duly complied and shut down. So now that the London licence has been awarded to a wholly non-pirate group, it was hardly surprising to see yet another carrot pulled out of the bag and shoved in KISS FM’s face.
“KISS FM put in a very strong application,” admits Peter Baldwin, the IBA’s director of radio. “IBA members felt very strongly that there were a number of applicant groups who could have been offered a contract, and we are seeking the government’s agreement to release additional frequencies so we can broaden the offers to these applicant groups.”
So KISS FM could be given a licence soon as a sort of prize for runners up?
“One has no idea where KISS FM will come in that,” says Baldwin, “but I’m bound to say that, given the government’s attitude towards pirate broadcasting, I think it would be imprudent for anyone to go back on the air if they have an aspiration towards broadcasting [legally].”
But this third carrot sounds equally precarious if it depends on the IBA’s success in evincing government agreement to more stations.
“Two more FM frequencies could be available in a short space of time – six to nine months,” explains Baldwin. “It would be for the government to decide. The IBA’s view is ‘should the listeners of London who haven’t got certain genres of broadcasting have to wait 18 months for that moment to arrive?’”
So the message to KISS FM is: sit tight, don’t do anything stupid (like return to piracy) and, some day soon, you may yet win a licence if we can persuade the Home Secretary of its political expediency.
Back in the KISS FM office, the disappointment of not winning is evident in the grim faces of a small group of station staff and presenters who are answering a stream of phone calls from well-wishers and listeners wanting to know the outcome. Three bottles of champagne sit unopened on the corner of Gordon Mac’s desk, where they remain unnoticed for the next week.
Mac himself is busy supplying quotes to enquiring journalists and does a live phone interview on the BBC London station ‘GLR’ with sympathetic soul DJ Dave Pearce. Some members of the KISS FM team who are not so close to the sharp end of the operation are unenthused by the carrot consolation prize, but Mac understands the need for cautious diplomacy now more than ever.
Seven months have already been spent raising more than £1million in capital, and a five-figure sum has been sunk into the application procedure to date.
A carefully worded press release is prepared, expressing “extreme disappointment” that KISS FM did not win the licence, but backing the IBA’s demand for more frequencies to be allocated to further London stations. KISS FM’s campaign focuses on 104.8 FM which becomes free in November when ‘Radio 1’ vacate their temporary London channel.
KISS FM presenter Heddi still feels the need for more direct action to satisfy the dozens of listeners who have phoned up asking what they can do to help. Over the next weekend, she visits several London clubs and solicits more than 3,000 letters of support addressed to the Home Office demanding the release of further frequencies for stations such as KISS FM. Gordon Mac delivers them personally to Douglas Hurd’s office exactly a week after the IBA’s fatal announcement. No acknowledgement or response is returned.
Mac seems to be treading a fine emotional line between huge personal disappointment at the outcome of several years’ hard work and cautious optimism that a licence still remains within the realms of possibility.
“Whether it takes three months or three years,” he says to GLR, “we will carry on campaigning until we are given the chance to be a legal radio station in London.”
In a more salubrious part of town, champagne bottles are being put to good use. London Jazz Radio’s nine-year campaign for a licence has paid off handsomely, particularly with its development of an all-party parliamentary lobby to argue the merits of its case.
The station’s founder, David Lee, is a 59-year-old jazzmusician whose distinguished career has included TV themes, jingles and the writing of Peter Sellers and Sophia Loren’s 1960 hit ‘Goodness Gracious Me’. He wrote to the IBA suggesting the idea but received a faintly dismissive reply explaining (wrongly, in retrospect) that new legislation would be necessary before such a station could be introduced.
So Lee started on the road for the necessary legislation to be enacted. “I happened to bump into a guy I’d known but hadn’t seen for over 20 years, who was an amateur drummer but also a member of the Gilbey’s Gin family and working as a board member of Grand Metropolitan Hotels.” This was Jasper Grinling, ex-managing director of International Distillers, ex-director of corporate affairs with Grand Met, and now chairman of LJR.
“He happened to know an MP by virtue of his high rank,” continues Lee, “so we asked him and, in a very short time, we had a 14-strong all-party group. I call it my ‘Parliamentary Jazz Band’. Based upon that parliamentary support, we felt we could start to move. We would literally have got nothing without it. It allowed us to get the ear of people of reason.”
The “people of reason” Lee reached included the Home Secretary himself. Before the award of the licence, Lee admitted: “I have great admiration for Douglas Hurd and, if it hadn’t been for his understanding, we wouldn’t be in the position we are today.”
“He was one of the first people to realise that it is quite wrong for a place the size of London not to have a station to represent so large a minority. He realised it and made sure those ‘people who know’ realised it.”
Indeed, Hurd on several occasions cited a London jazz station as an example of the new type of radio service he was intending to introduce. In retrospect, this should have been observed as an omen that parliamentary lobbying had already proven effective, long before the contract for the new London service was advertised.
The IBA are understandably keen to stress it was their decision to award the licence to LJR, based upon their assertion that the station will cater for a wide variety of musical tastes. Paul Brown, the IBA’s head of programming, explains: “LJR is a jazz radio station but, in assembling their application, they did a lot of research which told them that an audience would prefer to have a jazz radio station that provided a wide spectrum of jazz including, for example, Afro-Caribbean rhythms, salsa and also some of the big band performances.”
The station’s research showed that 41 per cent of those adults sampled liked to hear jazz on its own, while 63 per cent preferred to hear it mixed in with other styles of black music. But LJR’s own programme plans actually reject these findings and propose a fairly narrow jazz-dominated music policy.
A computerised playlist system is planned which will schedule one Afro-Caribbean record every two hours, one “boogaloo/soul” record every two hours, and one R&B record every 12 hours. Hardly a great concession to broader tastes.
Yet the IBA insist that LJR’s intended schedule also include “a good range of music styles derived from and related to jazz, including big band music, vocal standards, R&B and forms of Latin American jazz.” This statement is inconsistent with LJR’s own description of their output as “20th century jazz and jazz influenced music” in their ‘Promise of Performance’ – the legally binding statement of their programme plans.
Selecting such a specialised music station would have proven a hard decision for the IBA to defend, particularly when other applicants such as KISS FM were proposing to integrate jazz alongside many other styles of music. So have the IBA now insisted that LJR adopt a more catholic music policy in order to make their choice more politically acceptable?
“We are specifying that there must be a broad spectrum of output,” says the IBA’s Peter Baldwin, “and therefore what LJR accept will be a Promise of Performance that the IBA will write for them and not necessarily reflecting exactly what they applied for.”
Confidence in LJR’s ability to incorporate diverse and newer styles of ‘jazz-influenced music’ is not instilled by the station’s choice of senior staff. Apart from the presence of DJ Gilles Peterson on the board, the average age of the other nine directors is 56.
All this political manoeuvring is pretty galling for the unsuccessful bidders for the licence, who see accommodations being made for LJR’s shortcomings and the IBA adopting a defensive attitude towards their choice of winner. Several applicants made a positive commitment to jazz programmes alongside other neglected forms of music. KISS FM had already enrolled Gilles Peterson as a member of their own jazz presentation team.
When LJR comes on-air in February [1990], the proof of their commitment to these diverse music styles will be evident from their first day’s programmes. In the meantime, KISS FM can only wait for a Home Office decision as to whether additional frequencies will be allocated to further London stations. The KISS FM team will not return to pirate broadcasting, but will continue to campaign for the right to have a legal dance music station in London.
A week after the IBA’s announcement, Gordon Mac called a meeting of KISS FM’s staff and presenters to explain the whole situation. There was righteous indignation among many of those present that, once again, the government had pulled a fast one and made empty promises to the pirate community, while at the same time rewarding their own friends.
There were predictions that pirate activity in London would increase as a consequence of general ill-feeling towards the authorities. There was even an undercurrent that KISS FM had been duped by the second carrot-on-a-stick and would be foolish to wait for the outcome of a further open ended half-promise. Several members of the KISS FM team were absent from the meeting. Jonathan More and Matt Black (alias Coldcut), Hardrock Soul Movement, Jazzie B and Norman Jay were all in New York attending the ‘New Music Seminar’. It’s a dreadful irony that, while many of the individuals involved in KISS FM’s championing of British dance music have recently reaped huge popular success, the station itself is now off-air and still waiting for its day to come.
Last Monday, Home Secretary Douglas Hurd finally agreed to licence two more London-wide FM radio stations. After taking legal advice, the IBA has determined that it must publicly advertise these two new contracts, inviting bids from previous applicants and new groups by a November deadline. KISS FM will be one of more than 50 likely applicants, and the outcome will be announced by the end of the year.
The writer is a supporter of KISS FM’s campaign to secure the new London waveband.
[First published as ‘Kissed Off’, New Musical Express, 26 August 1989, p.31]
“If this gets out, we’re screwed,” my boss told me. Actually, I have paraphrased because at least one expletive was guaranteed in this man’s every sentence.
He looked very worried. I was baffled. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
“I don’t just mean ME,” he added in response to my bafflement that maybe he mistook for insouciance. “I mean YOU too, everyone in this building, this entire business. We are all f……” I will stop there. You can probably guess his favourite expletive.
He thrust the inside pages from a Sunday tabloid newspaper across his desk and indicated I should read. It was a large news story about an apparently notorious drug dealer involved in sundry nefarious activities who had just been nabbed by ‘the law’. I had never heard of him. I was still completely baffled.
“Without these people, we wouldn’t be here,” my boss explained with deliberate ambiguity. I ran a lightning-fast Poirot-style drawing room denouement through my mind:
Surmise the newspaper suspect is genuinely criminal
I had never met him
I had done nothing criminal
My boss is evidently freaking out
Maybe HE is mixed up with this criminal
Maybe HE has done something illegal
Something SO illegal that it would close down our business which, Hercule indicates, is licensed by the British government.
Oh dear. Will I still have a job tomorrow?
This was not how I had anticipated my regular Monday morning eight o’clock drop-in to my boss’ penthouse office. He looked more than worried. He looked scared stiff. As if the Metropolitan Police might come knocking on his office door within the next hour. I had recently watched horrified as certain of his sacked employees had been frogmarched out of the building by a security guard upon this man’s cruel orders. Perhaps the boot was about to pass to the other foot, this time with the addition of handcuffs and a blue flashing light outside on Holloway Road.
He took the newspaper back from me, turned it back around and sat there in silence, staring at the article. He chose to elucidate nothing further for a full minute, so I bade him farewell, got up, closed his door behind me and returned to my own office downstairs. It was the strangest start to my week. I was left just as baffled. My boss never said another word to me about this incident. He did not need to. Its significance was betrayed by his changed demeanour from that day onwards. Gone was the happy-go-lucky faux bonhomie he had always oozed. From now on, he would behave as if a gunman might burst into the room and shoot him at point-blank range.
In previous years, it had been evident to those of us working for Londonpirate radio station ‘KISS 94 FM’ that there were dodgy things going on under our noses in its open-plan Finsbury Park first-floor office. Unlike its competitors who mostly attempted 24/7 radio services, our station had only broadcast from Friday to Sunday. How come rivals had been regularly raided and shut down by the government, or sometimes by their enemies, whereas KISS had been so rarely, if ever, forced off-air? Press articles had regularly alleged that violence, industrial sabotage and criminal activity were rife within London’s pirate radio business. Some involved criticised this as the perfect fabricated excuse for the authorities to raid illegal stations, close them and prosecute their operators. But was there some fire behind this convenient smokescreen?
Every week, KISS had held numerous rammed club nights in venues across London, collecting the door money in cash. Hundreds of pounds, thousands on busy holiday weekends, would be counted out and bundled up on an office desk, to be dispatched out the office front door in the hands of station co-founder Gordon McNamee’s personal assistant, Rosee Laurence. Those substantial cash revenues did not appear to be reflected in the subsequent published accounts of McNamee’s company, Goodfoot Promotions Limited. Where that cash went I never knew. I had realised that, despite my training in economics and accountancy, it was best not to ask or get involved in the financial labyrinth of this illegal radio station.
McNamee regularly described his business style as “ducking and diving”, defined by the Cambridge dictionary as “the action of cleverly doing everything you can in order to succeed, or to avoid a situation, even when this may not be completely acceptable or honest.” For those familiar with the popular 1980’s British televisionsitcom ‘Only Fools and Horses’, McNamee would have fitted right in with its cast. His gift was his East End gab. He could persuade almost anybody to do almost anything … that would ultimately benefit himself. Running one of the dozens of London pirate stations had at least corralled a useful boundary to his ruthlessness. However, that limitation evaporated once he hit the radio jackpot.
What happened next was all my fault. After KISS FM’s first attempt to win a legal London radio licence had failed, McNamee slumped into lethargic depression and paralysed inaction. I stepped up to the challenge of initial defeat by instigating a lobbying campaign with co-worker Heddi Greenwood to persuade the government to advertise further radio licences (which succeeded) and, then, by managing and writing a second licence application (which succeeded against all odds). To achieve this, I had to make the difficult decision to sacrifice my job editing a new monthly black music magazine ‘Free!’ that I had just founded. My motivation was my long involvement in London pirate radio during two decades, since when I had dreamt of Britain’s first legal black music radio station. Eventually, I made that happen.
However, once the licence had been won, McNamee’s demeanour changed significantly. Newly attired in a sharp Paul Smith suit and shirt, he set out to hobnob amongst bigwigs with money whom he convinced that the station’s application had succeeded due to HIS entrepreneurial skills. Although he had only five GCSE certificates to his name (amongst them woodwork and technical drawing) and was barely literate, having “bummed out of school most of the time”, his ego started to believe the ‘rags to riches’ story that press profiles were painting around him. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher’s 1980’s propaganda promised that any East End barrow boy could ‘get rich quick’ through hard work in London’s financial and corporate sectors. It was the era of ‘loadsamoney’ when huge advertising billboards posted around London promoted local talk radio station ‘LBC’ with the slogan ‘GREED IS GOOD’ in massive letters.
Whereas pirate era meetings had previously been held within our open-plan office, McNamee now held them privately elsewhere with who knew whom and with outcomes unknown. He had always convinced the press that the pirate KISS FM was a ‘collective’ of its DJ’s even though it now seemed to operate more than ever as his fiefdom (KISS FM DJ Jazzie B’s “be an asset to the collective”lyric proved similarly shallow). Secrecy became endemic. McNamee’s domestic arrangements had always been sketchy, which I had presumed was the product of his ‘wife plus mistress’ private life. But he had progressed from being cagey to obsessively clandestine.
Weeks before the now legal KISS 100 FM launched, McNamee insisted I visit his new home for a Sunday business meeting and lunch. However, its address was apparently so confidential that I could only be told it by phone as I stepped into a taxi at the start of my long journey from one end of London to the other. I had to swear on my life that I would never share its location with anyone. Upon my late arrival (after the taxi ran out of petrol), I entered an expansive Edwardian house in Dulwich filled with expensive stuff, including huge blown-up photos of McNamee on walls throughout. The place was a shrine to both the man’s ego and the decadence favoured by the nouveau riche. I had to hide my disgust, as I had yet to be rewarded for my work winning KISS FM its licence. I was living in a damp suburban top floor flat without central heating.
It was galling to see McNamee showing off such opulence even before our new radio station had launched. Where had he got the money to buy this home? Where had he got the money to buy £90,000 of share capital in the newly created ‘KISS FM Radio Limited’ company that would be operating the licence? No explanations were offered to any of us who had been involved in our supposedly ‘collective’ enterprise – now HIS business – before it had won the licence. I was promised rewards (shares, a bonus, an immediate salary) for my efforts winning the station, none of which McNamee honoured. He was proven to be a cold-hearted liar in his treatment of me. I am certain I was not the only one.
I never knew if the Monday morning ‘criminal’ incident in his office was connected somehow to these apparent financial shenanigans that had suddenly made him ‘rich’. What I do know is that McNamee was never the same again. After Easter, he started to work a bare minimum of hours at the station. My office overlooked the private car park to the rear of the building so that, every morning, I would hear him arrive at precisely nine o’clock in the morning and then leave at precisely five o’clock in the afternoon. During the day, McNamee was no longer seen around the building. Apart from his presence at meetings, I rarely saw him to talk to any more. There was a lot of whispering around the building that things were going very badly for him.
Whenever I had to visit the top floor to see McNamee in his office, he would usually be sat behind his desk, doing nothing in particular. Often not, he would be staring at the latest share prices on the Teletext pages of his huge colour television. He seemed obsessed with the notion that he was some kind of entrepreneurial whiz-kid. He even started comparing himself in conversation to Richard Branson, the boss of the Virgin empire. Often, I would find him listening to old soul or jazz-funk records in his office, rather than to KISS FM. It seemed as if he was barricading himself into his corner office on the top floor, trying to ignore the realities of the radio station that were going on around him.
He clearly lacked the management skills to make the station a successful business, having appointed as departmental managers ‘outsiders’ who failed to understand our unique radio product and who all failed to meet their targets. I was the only ‘insider’ to head a department and became the only manager to meet my target (one million listeners per week by end of Year One) some six months early. Consumed by his own failings, I could see McNamee grow to despise me for my success. At one stage, he even told me: “Do you know what I hate about you, Grant? You’ve got the answers to every bloody question. And they are always bloody right.”
What he failed to grasp was that my expertise was derived from education, training and experience. I had not been born on a council estate with it. Unlike him, I had been involved in the radio business for two decades. Unlike him, I had implemented a (then) radical music policy that had turned around the fortunes of a large British commercial radio station (Metro Radio, Newcastle) a decade earlier. Unlike him, I had managed people since the 1970’s. Unlike him, I may not have possessed the gab, but I had a range of skills that were necessary to launch a successful radio station from scratch … and that is exactly what I did. Inevitably, having managed the station to ratings success, I was deemed no longer necessary to McNamee’s increasingly paranoid behaviour and was ejected without an ounce of gratitude. Then he slandered me in a national newspaper, bizarrely accusing ME of ruining HIS radio station!
Jump forward to June 2024. The same Gordon McNamee was honoured with the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire for “services to music”. It seems totally appropriate that it was bestowed upon him by the most corrupt, dishonest self-serving British government observed in my lifetime, run by a Prime Minister and staff convicted on 126 occasions of breaking COVID lockdown laws they themselves had legislated. Many current Tory politicians still idolise Margaret Thatcher and the ‘policies’ that helped her dominate 1980’s British politics. In 2022, Prime Minister and former Goldman Sachs banker Rishi Sunak had even asked on camera a homeless man if finance was a business he would “like to get into”, a scary echo of that Thatcher propaganda.
During my media career, I have had to work for a clutch of bosses whose activities appeared somewhat non-legal, several of whom were eventually prosecuted, two of whom were sent to jail. That is a sad reflection on the calibre of people who rise to the heights of British business where ‘meritocracy’ seems to have been labelled a dirty word … by those who are already installed on top.
Grant Goddard : radio broadcasting expert : media analyst : writer/author 