Tag: radio industry

Prising open Britain’s rarefied airwaves to independent productions : 1930-2010 : BBC Radio

 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”. 

In 1933, American advertising agency J. Walter Thompson moved into Bush House in London’s Aldwych and, by 1937, had built a state-of-the-art recording facility that rivalled the BBC’s in order to produce radio programmes for broadcast on European stations using:

“…. 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:

  • £1,180 per hour for music programmes on Radio 1
  • £1,730 per hour for music programmes on Radio 2
  • £9,130 per hour for Light Entertainment programmes
  • £5,785 per hour for religious programmes
  • £3,005 per hour for music programmes on Radio 3
  • £7,780 per hour for Magazine programmes
  • £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”. 

[Excerpt from my ‘independent’ 245-page report ‘Independent Radio Productions Commissioned By The BBC‘ for the BBC Trust in 2010]

[Originally blog published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2025/06/prising-open-britains-rarefied-airwaves.html ]

KISS FM rejected, government awards first London-wide radio station in 16 years to its jazz codger chums : 1989 : Jazz FM, London

 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 London radio 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 rail strike 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 pop charts 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 jazz musician 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 MP Bowen Wells is now a director of LJR, as is Lord Rayne, ex-chairman of London Merchant Securities plc. Fellow shareholders include Lord Colwyn, Lord Dormand, Earl Alexander of Tunis, Viscount Portman and four other MPs – Jim Lester, Tom Pendry, John Prescott and Nicholas Scott.

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]

[This was a small part of the bigger story recounted in my book ‘KISS FM: From Radical Radio to Big Business’ about pirate radio, the station’s subsequent licence win and successful relaunch]

[First blog published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2025/05/kiss-fm-rejected-government-awards.html ]

Why are Canadian radio station audience data a state secret? : 2000 : BBM Canada

 Letters to the Editors, Marketing Magazine, Toronto

Dear Sirs

I am a radio programming consultant based in Toronto with twenty years’ experience in the industry. My work has created successful commercial radio stations in the UK, Russia, Hungary, Latvia, Czech Republic, Estonia & Lithuania. When I start a new project in a city, the first thing I do is contact the designated agency for media ratings. On every occasion, agency staff have always been very happy to share their data with me and are always pleased to discuss their findings with a fellow professional. Some agencies have even produced custom reports to help me better understand their media market. They recognise implicitly that we are both working towards the same goal – a wider understanding of audience research data will produce a more efficient medium that delivers bigger audiences to more satisfied advertisers.

The story could not be more different in Canada. I called the Bureau of Broadcast Measurement (BBM Canada, founded 1944) this morning and was surprised to learn that it offers no public access to documents at its offices, and expressly forbids public access to any survey less than a year old, even to industry professionals such as myself. I was given two options: subscribe to BBM at a cost of over a thousand dollars; or consult back issues of surveys at Ryerson University. I had visited Ryerson earlier this week, where the latest data on the shelves is 1998 (prehistoric in media terms) and I was told by the Librarian that the University’s contract with BBM expressly forbids access to any data more recent.

I am at a complete loss to understand why the broadcasting industry in Canada funds BBM for research purposes and then does its utmost to hide the results. The radio industry may whine about declining audiences but, unless consultants such as myself are permitted to read, understand and interpret the latest market data, how can we make any positive contribution to our industry? I can call the Audit Bureau of Circulation in Canada, enquire about magazine readership, and be bombarded with reams of statistical data. But the radio industry in Canada – nothing!

In the UK in the 1990’s, I made a modest contribution to the development of radio research by tabulating and publishing the first Arbitron-style radio station rankings for every major market in the country. Such basic, easy-to-understand information seems to be impossible to collate in my own backyard, even for professional purposes. Or is that the way Canada’s cosy little media cartel wants it? And how does such a policy help grow the broadcasting industry in the long run?

Yours sincerely

GRANT GODDARD

11 August 2000

[Originally published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2025/02/why-are-canadian-radio-station-audience.html ]

The great brains robber fearful his collar will be touched : 1991 : Gordon McNamee, KISS 100 FM

 “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 London pirate 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 television sitcom ‘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.

[See also ‘KISS FM: From Radical Radio To Big Business: The Inside Story Of A London Pirate Radio Station’s Path To Success’ by Grant Goddard, Radio Books, 2011, 528 pages]

[Originally published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-great-brains-robber-fearful-his.html ]

Kick archaic studio-bound public radio production out into 21st century public spaces : 2011 : BBC Radio

 Technological advances made during the last two to three decades have changed our world almost beyond recognition. Everyone now has the ability to be almost permanently ‘connected’ to a world beyond their immediate personal space.

Has BBC radio fully embraced the benefits of these technological advances? From an external perspective, the answer appears to be both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. BBC radio seems to have implemented new technologies less obviously than BBC television. Yes, BBC radio programmes and stations now have an online presence, receive e-mails and tweets, and distribute their output live and on-demand via IP. But no, the basics of radio production have changed very little beyond a conversion from analogue tape to digital hard-drive storage.

In the 1920’s, a male radio announcer would sit in a BBC radio studio, dressed in a dinner jacket and reading a pre-prepared script. In order to be interviewed, guests would have to physically come to the studio. Everything had to be broadcast live, as there was no technology to include ‘actuality’ from beyond the studio’s confines. All the news and information had to be filtered through the on-air presenter. Listener involvement was limited to letters submitted, selected, edited and read on-air by the presenter.

Surprisingly, the radio production format has changed little in the interim ninety years. Presenters still sit in studios filled with expensive radio hardware and they still act as filters for the information that flows into the studio. Only three substantial changes are evident: recording systems have allowed interviews and actuality to be incorporated into programmes, and a programme itself to be time-shifted; phone-ins have allowed listener voices to be put live on-air via the telephone; and BBC reporters can be incorporated live into programmes via ISDN or IP from around the world. All these developments were pioneered by the BBC.

If we look at BBC television, we see that an increasing amount of content broadcast on the ‘BBC News’ channel comes in the form of photographs, poor quality mobile phone video (viz the ‘Arab Spring’ in Syria), eyewitness reports by phone line and Skype video/audio interviews supplied by the public from their offices or homes. In the current jargon, much of this could be called ‘user generated content’.

However, in radio, this revolution has simply not happened. When did you last hear a piece of audio on BBC radio that had been recorded and submitted by a member of the public? Never? In radio, public participation in the output still remains limited to content initiated or filtered by the production team. A member of the public will be asked to connect to the studio for a formal interview with a presenter either live in the studio, from a BBC contribution studio or via a phone line. Or a reporter may take a portable audio recorder out to interview a member of the public on location and the outcome is edited before transmission into an audio ‘package.’

The result is that, just as in the 1920’s, what we hear on the radio has still been filtered through the programme presenter and producer, so that the resulting programme is delivered from the confines of a cosy, air-conditioned studio. Radio is still largely produced in a vacuum that is far apart from the real world. Of course, there are obvious exceptions such as ‘From Our Own Correspondent’ and ‘Question Time.’ But these remain exceptions.

The continuing reliance within radio upon the hardware-equipped studio is particularly hard to understand when digital audio equipment is smaller, lighter, more portable and cheaper than its analogue ancestors. A radio programme can be produced, mixed, edited and broadcast from a basic laptop computer using software-based technology rather than considerably more expensive hardware. In this sense, radio should by now be far ahead of television, where digital equipment remains expensive, complex and still requires substantial bit rates and data storage for broadcast quality.

These incredible technological advances in radio production have been well understood and seized upon by people outside the BBC who do not have privileged access to expensive hardware-based recording studios. In their thousands, these people are making their own radio programmes (‘podcasts’) and creating their own online radio stations. The technology has filtered down so far that even a local primary school has its own radio production studio, linked to a low-power FM transmitter on the school’s roof so that children can listen on ordinary radios to the programmes they make.

London is one of the most exciting cities in the world. Yet, when I listen to ‘BBC London 94.9 FM’, I do not hear that excitement reflected much in its output. What I do hear are presenters sat in hardware-based studios, talking with guests they have invited there or talking via phone lines to selected contributors outside. What is sorely missing is ‘actuality.’ News stories are often reduced to ‘packages’ that can be inserted into hourly news bulletins. Yet the technology already exists (smartphones, IP, 3G) so that the hundreds of news stories that happen in London each day could be put to-air quickly using actuality live or ‘as-live’ recorded by either BBC reporters or the public.

Existing technologies could be implemented to create an exciting news and information driven radio station for London that more closely reflected life in the capital. It would entail taking risks, but it is only through risk-taking that innovation will happen. BBC London’s share of radio listening in London is only 1.4% and the station reaches only 5% of the population each week. Licence Fee payers could be better served by a local radio station in London that used new technologies to create an audio soundtrack that reflected their lives in this city. Such opportunities to use new technologies to change the face of radio are being missed, or being left to television to implement.

I lived in Toronto for five years and the city’s only independent television station, ‘CityTV’, offered one of the most impressive uses of new technology I have ever seen. For a start, the station did not have traditional TV studios. News programmes were presented by anchors perched on the corner of their own office desks. The nightly one-hour local news programme was filled to the brim with reports from a small team of one-person ‘videographers’ who whizzed around the city all day and recorded every available story using a single handheld camera. Sometimes the quality was not great, but the content accurately reflected the life of the city much better than any other local medium in Toronto.

At CityTV, the weekday morning show was presented from the station’s ground floor foyer. Cameras, lights, cables, production staff were all left in-shot, as were the people on the busy street outside and casual visitors to the station’s offices. CityTV’s owner, ‘media visionary’ Moses Znaimer, called this infrastructure “the streetfront/studioless television operating system” and it worked fantastically. Every Friday evening, the same foyer was turned into a free nightclub that was televised live for several hours with DJs, visiting music acts and short interviews. Admittedly, CityTV’s output was sometimes chaotic but it used cheap, lightweight technologies to successfully break down the barrier that had existed previously between formal, studio-limited programmes and their audiences. The people of Toronto felt truly connected with CityTV because every city dweller knew the location of its downtown building and could wander in, even during its live shows.

I had marvelled at CityTV’s bold use of cutting-edge technology fifteen years ago. And, since then, technologies for television have advanced much further. But it is the medium of audio where even more fundamental breakthroughs have taken place. The ability to use a smartphone, a laptop or a cheap audio recorder to record perfect digital sound quality in WAV format has opened up the possibility to produce content for broadcast much more significantly than in television. Yet, from the outside, there seems to be no strategic vision to implement these technologies within the BBC in order to change the way in which radio more pro-actively involves itself with the world outside its radio studios.

Individual BBC reporters are doing amazing things with new technology. Nick Garnett provided live interviews for ‘Radio Four’ about the outcome of the last election from a moving tram in Sheffield using only his smartphone installed with the ‘Luci Live’ application for broadcasters. His personal website demonstrates in videos his evangelism for these new technologies. He contrasts his ability to produce live coverage of the recent Salford/Manchester riots safely using only his handled smartphone with the impossibility twenty years earlier when a high-tech van was necessary, even for a short live report, and the job of holding the microphone remained the responsibility of a BBC Studio Manager.

At the heart of technological change is a necessary accompanying change in working practices in many parts of BBC radio. Whilst television underwent fundamental change when it was transformed into ‘BBC Vision’, the radio infrastructure has remained much the same. Whilst BBC television has been mostly casualised by freelance staff, radio remains dominated by full-time employees. Although BBC television has stiff competition from commercial stations, BBC radio attracts the majority of listening (54% currently) and its share continues to grow. The grave danger is that complacency in BBC radio from high ratings can stunt innovation. 

Whilst there is no doubt that technological innovations have been successfully incorporated into current working practices within BBC radio, it is a much greater challenge to incorporate the disruptive influences of those technologies in a way that forces change in current working methods. For example, at present, producers and editors of radio programmes set the agendas of programmes themselves and then seek to fulfil those plans by inviting ‘talking heads’ and commissioning ‘packages’ to make their points. This is a demand-led production system, working from the demands of the producer.

However, in a world where there are already hundreds of pieces of audio content available to choose from to make a programme, the production system could become more supply-led. The editor would use a mix of commissioned pieces and the best or most appropriate of what already existed from BBC contributors or the public. In fact, the radio editor would become more like an editor of a newspaper, selecting from what content already existed, rather than commissioning every item from scratch.

If the thought of including ‘user generated content’ from the British public in network radio output proves alarming, it is worth remembering that there are dozens of media courses up and down the country whose students would love to add some BBC radio contributions to their CVs. There are also 300 community radio stations that have an existing ‘Memorandum of Understanding’ with the BBC to share content in both directions. Yet BBC radio at network level does not seem to have reached out to the wider constituency of audio producers beyond its own staff and ex-staff. When I interviewed senior BBC network radio staff last year for a ‘BBC Trust’ report and asked why no audio was being recycled from BBC local radio, student radio or podcast producers, I was told that they would not meet the ‘quality’ threshold. Equally, you might ask why the Sony Award-winning ‘Hackney Podcast’ is not a regular part of BBC London’s output.

This ‘quality’ barrier is an anachronism that remains in place in radio and yet seems to have been largely overcome in television. Within BBC radio, ‘quality’ is even used as a means to segregate one division’s content from another’s. In television, if the content communicates something newsworthy or significant, blurry mobile phone footage is broadcast. Yet, in radio, the audio quality often seems more important to producers than the content itself. This requires not so much a change in technology, as a change in attitudes and editorial policies that have not caught up with the technological possibilities.

A station such as ‘BBC 1Xtra’ should be an exciting and ground-breaking experience to listen to. Yet, on the occasions I have listened, its output has seemed hideously studio-bound and insular to me. There appears to be little difference between 1Xtra and 1920’s BBC radio, as a presenter still sits in a hardware studio, but with an assistant who reads tweets instead of letters. During one show I heard recently, the presenter was reduced to bemoaning that he had left his lip balm at home, and a clip was used of musician interviews made days earlier backstage at an awards ceremony.

Surely a station such as BBC 1Xtra that is aimed at young people should have an immediacy and an incredibly ‘live’ feel to it that is able to challenge the speed of competing information sources delivered via the internet. 1Xtra should be overflowing with exclusive news, information and music, artists dropping in for short chats and ‘actuality’ broadcast live or ‘as-live’ that reflect the diversity of the British black music scene. Yet I do not hear this kind of excitement when I listen to 1Xtra. The station would be a perfect candidate to adopt CityTV’s studio-less operating system, where it could operate from an open-door shopfront rather than from the remote bowels of a BBC office. It could even broadcast from different cities week to week, like an ever-travelling roadshow.

I have a particular interest in 1Xtra because, twenty years ago, I had launched ‘KISS FM’ in London as the UK’s first black music radio station. Even then, I had used what few new technologies were available to make the programme content less studio-bound. I regularly sent one reporter out with my mobile phone (at a time when they were uncommon) and her interviews and actuality were put live to air using nothing more sophisticated than the phone’s low-quality microphone. The audience loved that immediacy. Then, after work, I would take a digital recorder to London clubs and record the whole night’s DJ set for subsequent broadcast. These technological innovations made KISS FM one of the most successful station launches of its time because listeners understood that the station was ‘out there in London’ rather than always studio-bound. 

 Let us be clear here. Radio needs to implement as many new technologies as possible in order to adapt and change what it can do if it is to remain relevant and valuable to its audiences. Although, in total, radio listening in the UK has reached an all-time high (partly as an outcome of the increasing population), there are some disturbing long-terms trends. Six years ago, 15–24-year-olds started to spend significantly less time listening to broadcast radio. More recently, 25–34-year-olds are also spending less time with broadcast radio. If this trend continues, part of an entire generation could lose the radio habit.

BBC Radio needs to compete for consumers’ time with every other distraction out there – particularly the internet, games, social networking and video. To do that, radio has to re-invent itself so that it is exciting and entertaining for a whole new generation. That requires radio to respond to the disruptive influences of new technology, not in a defensive way, but to embrace change and to understand that, just as with other businesses, if you do not change and adapt with the times, your brand could easily die.

At present, the BBC’s strategy for implementation of new technologies in radio could appear to be somewhat slow, scattershot and disjointed. What is needed is a joined-up roadmap to bring BBC radio firmly into the 21st century, a determined push to move radio beyond its 1920’s production methods, and a programme to combat internal complacency and inertia through persuasion and education. The biggest enemy to such change often derives from the people entrenched in an organisation, not from the availability of technologies. In that sense, the imperative for change has to come from within.

The BBC has a long tradition of being at the forefront of new technological developments in radio. It is admired the world over for its innovation in the radio medium and the quality of its outputs. The biggest current danger is that, unless a strategy is developed for BBC radio that combines the implementation of new technologies with changing methods of radio production, the BBC’s track record of innovation could be acceded elsewhere.

In our enlarged, globalised radio marketplace, it would be perfectly possible for Google or Microsoft to invest sufficient R&D seed money to develop a new style of radio that could set the youth of the world on fire (viz Facebook). Until now, the main threat to broadcast radio from the internet has been in back-to-back music applications (Spotify, Last.fm) which add no value to widely available pre-recorded music. However, compared to the visual medium, it would prove relatively cheap to add value to that audio content if you could identify the appropriate editorial that will appeal to a whole new generation as ‘the new radio.’ It is important that BBC radio faces this global threat by implementing innovation as a must-have-now rather than as a long-term objective.

Within the BBC, there are already plenty of staff embracing such change on an individual level. More than 300 BBC staff have signed up to Audioboo, a UK-based online exchange for short audio clips. Similarly, some BBC programme makers are contributing to PRX, a US-based online marketplace for both complete programmes and short audio clips. I understand that the BBC is currently developing its own in-house version of these sort of E-Bay‘s for audio content.

The imperative to centralise data storage of BBC audio so as to create an internal ‘cloud’ system for radio content provides the perfect opportunity to develop new production systems that can share content, both internally and from outside the BBC. The traditional ‘silo’ system, whereby individual radio programmes and individual radio stations have managed their own content resources, cannot be productive during a time when the Licence Fee produces pressures to share and consolidate resources as much as possible.

More than ever, in BBC radio, change is necessary. But change can also be very hard to make happen, particularly within large organisations. I would suggest that the task ahead is to develop an interlocking roadmap for radio technologies that embraces:

  •   more agile content ingest, storage and accessibility (avoiding transcoding)
  •   radio production processes that focus on the intrinsic public value of content, more than its audio quality or source
  •   the evolution of radio studios from fixed hardware to portable software
  •   a plan for multi-platform distribution based on cost-benefit analysis and accurate usage data (RAJAR platform data are inaccurate)
  •   IP delivery of radio via frictionless technologies, reducing bandwidth through multicasting
  •   a focus on content availability, connectivity and ‘searchability’
  •   the unlocking of BBC archive radio content
  •   an appropriate and future-proof metadata architecture for audio content distribution
  •   use of commodity software or collaborations with external suppliers wherever possible.

The aim: to ensure that the connections between BBC radio and its audiences are maximised through available technologies, delivering content efficiently and easily wherever and whenever it is demanded.

[In 2011, London recruitment agency Lonmoor invited me to apply for the vacancy of ‘Technology Controller, Audio & Music’ at the BBC. Following initial discussion, it was suggested I submit these ideas on paper, after which I received an email response: “We shall conclude our shortlisting process in the next week and be back in touch.” I am still waiting. It became the fifty-ninth consecutive BBC job for which my application was rejected.]

[Originally published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2025/01/kick-archaic-studio-bound-public-radio.html Available as a download.]

LBC 97.3 FM, London’s whitest conversation? : 2007 : ‘Is Radio Racist?’, The Radio Academy

 The conversation at the Radio Academy event in London entitled ‘Is Radio Racist?’ became heated when the chairman, ‘LBC‘ morning show presenter James O’Brien [JO], was questioned by ‘BBC Five Live’ overnight presenter Dotun Adebayo [DA] about the absence of ethnic minority presenters at LBC. At the start of the event, O’Brien said he had been asked to chair the debate because “I am actually officially the whitest person working in the broadcasting industry today.”

DA: “James, you work for a London station. How many black presenters are there, when 20% of the London population is African-Caribbean or Asian? How many black presenters are there on LBC?”

JO: “That’s interesting because there aren’t any black presenters currently.”

DA: “If I ask James how many black cleaners there are at LBC, it would be a high percentage.”

JO: “For what it’s worth, that’s not true. If you had asked me about production staff, I would point at two or three colleagues, both current and former, who are from ethnic minorities. I object to that question because I don’t think their colour is relevant to their ability to do the job.”

DA: “That wasn’t the point. I gave you one example of London media where there are no [ethnic] presenters. You should be embarrassed about that, James.”

JO: “I think that, at the moment, I am the best person to be presenting my show and colour is entirely irrelevant to that equation. If someone who is better than me comes along, they will get my job, whatever colour they are. I would hope my employer would have the bravery to appoint the best person for the job and not say…..”

DA: “How can you explain the fact that there isn’t one black presenter on your station?”

JO: “How would you like to be the one who only got the job because there aren’t any black people on the station?”

DA: “I would be happy to get the job because at least it was an opportunity for me, whereas there is no opportunity for me there at the moment. There are no black presenters at LBC. That’s something that’s disgraceful and you know that.”

JO: “I dispute that entirely, but it’s not about me. If you want to hear me talk about myself, I’ll be back on LBC 97.3 FM tomorrow morning [laughter from audience].”

Later in the debate, Salim Salam [SS], a former BBC producer now working for digital station ‘Colourful Radio’, returned the discussion to the same issue:

SS: “It’s a managerial question. Given that you want to have a media industry which is broadly reflective of the society in which it operates, and in the case of the BBC is directly paid for by that society, then you should be looking to get (LBC being an example) a station which is broadly representative of the society to which it is broadcasting. And the fact that it’s not is a managerial question.”

JO: “LBC takes up 24 hours of programming, of which every single one, expect for two [hours] between 5 and 7am, is phone-in. So if you want to talk about a radio station that provides a platform and an opportunity for every single citizen in the city to put forward their case, their perspective, their experience or their opinion, a phone-in programme or a phone-in station is almost immune to these accusations.”

SS: “No, it’s not, because I’m talking about the people who present the programmes and who make the programmes, which actually affects the editorial. There are two elements to this question. One is: who’s making the programmes and who’s presenting the programmes, and who’s doing the hiring and firing? … The other question is the editorial, and it’s not always a question of people walking around deliberately looking for opportunities to discriminate against black people. It’s about the questions that you ask. Muslim people, for example, have a hell of a lot of questions to ask about a lot of things. There’s nobody asking those questions for them because the editorial lines that are being taken all come from one particular point of view, and then the questions that are asked follow the perceived lines of wisdom or the orthodoxy of the time. So, if you are looking for an industry that is broadly reflective of the society in which it operates, you have got to ask yourself why is it not (whether it is racism or not)?  Secondly, if you are looking for solutions to that, look at who is doing the hiring and firing. Who do they know? Are they capable of making a rational judgement when they are faced with those applicants? The BBC’s own figures will tell you that black people, once they get to the final interview stage, are still three times less likely to get the job than their white counterparts. Are you telling me that black people are three times less talented or able? I’m not of that opinion. I think it’s either unconscious discrimination, or whatever it is.”

Jimmy Buckland, external affairs officer of RadioCentre, provided the meeting with data from the forthcoming SkillCentre 2006 Employment Census which found the radio industry overall employs 6.9% of staff from black and minority ethnic backgrounds, comprising 3.1% in commercial radio and 10.9% in BBC radio. Explaining that these results appear skewed because “commercial radio is more regional based than the BBC”, Buckland said that 19% of commercial radio’s workforce is based in London, compared to 59% of the BBC’s. He added: “What we have here is a problem of representation, definitely.”

[First published in edited form in ‘The Radio Magazine’ as ‘LBC Quizzed Over All-White Presenter Team’, #777, 28 February 2007]

[Originally blog published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2024/11/lbc-973-fm-londons-whitest-conversation.html ]

My application wins our tiny black music pirate station a valuable London-wide radio licence : 1989 : KISS 100 FM

 It was only just daylight when I suddenly realised that the phone was ringing. It seemed to take me ages to drag my weary body out of bed, as the phone continued to ring long and hard. Who on earth would want to phone me at this early hour on a Saturday morning? I toyed with the notion that it might be my former girlfriend, who seemed determined to inflict as much hurt on me as possible, despite our relationship having ended abruptly through her own infidelity and lies.

But it was not her. It was [‘KISS FM’ managing director] Gordon McNamee, calling me from his mobile phone. He said he was standing in the middle of his local park, walking his dog, accompanied by his mother. I could hear in the background that it was pouring with rain. McNamee asked if I had the home phone number of any of the Independent Broadcasting Authority [media regulator IBA] staff so that he could find out whether KISS FM had won the licence. I asked him why he was so anxious to find out at such an early hour in the morning. McNamee told me that ‘Music Week’ magazine’s radio correspondent, Bob Tyler, had rung him at home at around eight o’clock that morning to find out if he knew who had won the licences. McNamee admitted that he had heard nothing, despite knowing that the decisions had been made by the IBA at its Thursday meeting and should be announced imminently. McNamee told me that he had stayed at the KISS FM office [in Finsbury Park] all day Friday, but there had still been no phone call from the IBA, so he assumed that KISS FM had lost the licence for the second time, and had returned home.

Bob Tyler had phoned McNamee a second time at around nine o’clock that morning to say that he had just heard a rumour that KISS FM had won a licence, though there was still no means of official confirmation. McNamee, feeling agitated and frustrated, had decided to get out of bed and take his dog for a walk in the local park. Halfway across the park, it had started to pour with rain. Then, just as he, his mother and his dog had run for shelter, McNamee’s mobile phone had rung again. This time it was Richard Brooks, media editor of ‘The Observer’ newspaper, offering his congratulations to McNamee on KISS FM’s win of one of the two licences, and asking for a comment to include in the next day’s issue. McNamee thanked Brooks for his call, but emphasised that he himself had not been told the news and so would have to obtain official confirmation from the IBA before he could say anything publicly. Brooks assured him that he had seen a letter sent to one of the losing applicants which definitely stated that KISS FM and easy listening applicant ‘Melody Radio’ were the two winners. McNamee promised to ring him back as soon as possible.

There was jubilation in the park, despite the torrential rain. McNamee and his mother leapt up and down with excitement, watched by an astonished old man who was also sheltering from the storm. The old man asked them what all the fuss was about and, when McNamee told him he had just won a hotly contested radio licence, the old man offered him a celebration roll-your-own cigarette and apologised for not having a cigar. Now, McNamee needed to find out from the IBA if the news was true, and why it had been broken to him by a journalist, rather than in an official IBA communication. That was when he had rung me. I told McNamee that I probably had the home phone number of one of the IBA officers, if the paperwork had not disappeared from my flat, so I would find it and try to obtain official confirmation. I quickly found the home phone number of the IBA press officer, Stuart Patterson, on the top of an old press release he had sent me. I called him and, although he himself refused to confirm or deny whether KISS FM had won, he promised to arrange for someone from the IBA radio division to call me as soon as possible.

It was only a few minutes later that David Vick, the IBA’s principal radio development officer, called me. At first, he was pre-occupied with explaining to me the protocol of the IBA announcement, and did not tell me outright that KISS FM had won:

“Hi, it’s David Vick from the IBA. I gather you’re the only people who haven’t got the news officially yet … I’ve just had a quick word with Stuart, obviously … We’ve told the winners that they might expect calls from journalists. What we’re anxious not to happen, and maybe it’s a false hope now, is for journalists to ring losers before they’ve got their letters. But clearly, the Christmas post is so unpredictable that our best laid plans have fallen apart this morning.”

“I didn’t ring Stuart as a journalist,” I interrupted. “It was the KISS FM side … Did we get it or didn’t we?”

“Yes, of course you did,” answered Vick.

“Oh, brilliant,” I screamed. I was elated. Until now, I and the rest of the KISS FM team could only have dreamed of this moment when the IBA would ring us to say that we had won a radio licence. Now, it had really happened. I was very tired. I was still shattered from the long journey home [from a holiday in The Gambia the previous evening]. I had only just woken up, but I was also incredibly happy that my hard work on the licence application had won out in the end.

“Congratulations,” said Vick, while I gasped with joy at the other end of the call. He remained far more composed than I was right now, and he continued to explain the detail of the announcement: “I don’t know how The Observer got hold of it. Clearly, one of the losers has talked to The Observer fairly early on this morning, because they’ve been hot on the trail from quite early on. So congratulations on that.”

I was still laughing and whooping at my end of the conversation, as Vick continued: “We normally do ring winners on Saturday morning but, this time, we’ve been playing it so laid back and ultra cool that I hadn’t actually planned to do that. All the letters seem to have got through, but clearly some of the most serious applicants have given business addresses, and they’re the ones who haven’t actually got the letters. You’re not unique. We’ve had a vexed Lord Hanson [of Melody Radio, the other licence winner] ring us this morning, asking what’s going on and why is he being rung by journalists.”

Vick continued: “You and Lord Hanson have been in the identical situation this morning of being rung by The Observer and others at the crack of dawn, and not known what was going on … What we didn’t want was for losers who haven’t got their letters this morning to find out from the newspapers either on Sunday or ideally on Monday … We had a terrible botch-up with the Post Office on one of the previous months. And, this time, I rang the district postmaster yesterday afternoon and said ‘look, we’ve got another run of letters going through.’ And he said he’d do his best to catch them the moment they arrived at the sorting office and hustle them straight through for us. And he’s clearly done the job with unfailing skill and everything’s arrived this morning. But the ones going to business addresses, yours and Hanson’s and some of the other quite serious applicants, have ended up hearing about it through the grapevine as a result.”

“Oh, this is brilliant,” I gasped. I was still far from composed and I was barely taking in Vick’s pre-occupation with the minor points of the procedure. We had won! That was all that was important to me right there and then. We had won! Vick continued regardless: “We told everybody our press release would be [published] Tuesday morning. But I’ve spoken to Peter Baldwin [IBA director of radio] and Stuart [Patterson], and that’s clearly crazy now, so we’re going to issue the press release early Monday morning. So, if you could bear to at least smile inwardly and say as little as you can to the press until then …”

I was muttering words of agreement without really taking in all the detail that Vick was relating. He could tell my excitement was getting the better of me, so he suddenly changed gear: “Well done. We’ll obviously have a lot to do with each other in the months ahead. One of the things we’ve said in the letter is that, if you could come in [to the IBA office] and meet us all in the next couple of weeks, that would be super.”

“We would love to,” I replied, still giggling uncontrollably. Once more, Vick was keen to discuss the nitty gritty, right here and now on a Saturday morning: “Very well done. It was an excellent application. The trouble is that you’re going to get a lot of griping comment now from people saying that they [the IBA] only did it to keep the pirate lobby happy. The fact was that it was a bloody good application that got it on merit, because we certainly wouldn’t have given it to you if the application hadn’t been deserving of it.”

It was incredibly pleasing to hear Vick credit the KISS FM application after all the hard work I had put into it. I felt that, finally, I had been vindicated for my insistence to McNamee that the whole licence application had to be as perfectly presented as possible on this occasion. I thanked Vick for his kind comments, and he continued: “I think, to be honest, that the extra six months actually did you a lot of good. Not that the first application was bad or anything but, in this one, you had clearly learnt so much over the last six months, and you had strengthened it in so many ways. And, fortunately, by majoring on the new release aspect of the daytime [music] playlist, you’ve given us a very solid peg to hang the ‘diversity’ point on. Because, when ‘Capital [Radio]’ and others predictably start complaining, we can actually point to the fact that you are going to be playing the music before it gets in the charts, and they will play it after it gets in the charts, which gives greater diversity.”

Since its launch in 1973, Capital Radio had been London’s one and only commercial pop music station, and it was still eager to defend what it considered to be its own rightful territory – a monopoly over playing pop music in the capital. The IBA was charged with widening the choice of radio stations available to listeners, whilst not duplicating the existing output of Capital Radio. The emphasis I had placed in the KISS FM application on the station’s championing of new music had proven to be precisely the argument the IBA could use to defend a decision to award KISS FM the licence. Admittedly, Capital Radio did play dance music within its programmes, but it only played songs that were already in the ‘Top Forty’ singles chart. KISS FM would be playing mostly new releases, before they gained widespread popularity. My strategy for the KISS FM application had worked exactly as I had intended, which Vick confirmed as he continued to relate the detail: “The press release actually says that KISS FM has been chosen as a station that will be in the forefront of music tastes and that’s your market position, as we define it.”

McNamee must have returned home by now, so I gave his home telephone number to Vick and thanked him for calling me so promptly. It was absolutely brilliant news and I was still utterly ecstatic. I tried to phone McNamee straight away, but Vick must have managed to get through to him first. I continued re-dialling for several minutes, until the phone eventually rang. McNamee was shouting down the phone to me over the top of a loud conversation I could hear in the background:

“Grant, you c*nt,” he greeted me, in his typically perverse way. “We’ve got it! I can’t believe it! David Vick just phoned me and we went through the whole lot. I can’t fucking believe it.”

There was loud laughter in the background and McNamee already sounded drunk on the news, in spirit, if not in reality: “You’ve got a job! Your gamble worked out. We’ve all got a job. Fucking wonderful! It’s wonderful! It’s just unbelievable. I’m going to be down at Dingwalls [nightclub in Camden] tonight and the whole world will be, I should think. I’m going to phone everyone today. I’ll talk to you later on. I’ve got to phone all the bosses, and I’ll talk to you later.”

McNamee was right. My gamble had paid off. I had believed that KISS FM could win the licence, if only someone was prepared to work hard on the application this time around. Then, when McNamee had failed to take up the challenge, I had decided to take on the task myself. While McNamee had been pre-occupied with his initial failure, I had been determined to turn KISS FM’s second application into a winner. Asked subsequently what had persuaded the IBA to award KISS FM a radio licence, David Vick answered: “A well-researched application and musical knowledge.”

It was pleasing to know that my strategies had been proven correct. It was my detailed research and my belief in KISS FM’s musical expertise that had swung the licence bid. Now, here I was, having learnt the good news only hours after arriving back in the country. If KISS FM had lost its licence bid this second time around, I would have had no job to return to. Plus, my flat had been deliberately and spitefully emptied [by my former girlfriend whilst I had been away]. But these things did not matter to me anymore. The dream I had cherished for so many years of a legal black music radio station in London was about to become a reality at last. I had played my part in turning that dream into reality. I was absolutely thrilled. For me, it was literally a dream come true.

[Excerpt from ‘KISS FM: From Radical Radio To Big Business: The Inside Story Of A London Pirate Radio Station’s Path To Success’ by Grant Goddard, Radio Books, 2011, 528 pages]

[Originally blog published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2024/09/the-day-my-application-won-our-tiny.html ]

The customer is always “a crazy, crazy man” : 2000 : Indian Consulate visa office, Toronto

 India? I might have loved the 1980 song of that name by ‘The Psychedelic Furs’ but had never entertained going there. Then an email arrived from John Catlett, who had hired me the previous decade to assist him rebooting radio stations in Russia and East Europe, informing me that he had just been contracted for three years to launch and manage India’s first local commercial FM radio stations. Did I want to join him on a six-month on-site consulting contract? Desperation made that decision for me.

I had moved to Toronto in 1996 whilst working for huge American public corporation Metromedia International Inc. Within a year of that relocation, my job had suddenly and unexpectedly come to an abrupt end. ‘Suddenly’ because I had been invited down to its New York City office supposedly to finalise my appointment as vice president (promised by Metromedia International Group president Carl Brazell), only to be told to my face by recently appointed marketing president Bill Hogan that I was to be replaced immediately by a newly recruited American. ‘Unexpectedly’ because, during the previous four years, I had implemented very successful strategies that relaunched radio stations Metromedia had acquired in Russia, Hungary and Latvia.

Since that setback, I had spent three years making approaches and job applications to Toronto’s dozens of radio stations, none of which cared to reply. The industry there turned out to be incredibly insular, dominated by national media groups and family businesses who had no interest in hiring an ‘outsider’. I had already had to leave Britain after having failed to secure a radio job there, despite having managed the most successful station launch of the decade at London’s ‘KISS FM’. Now I was having to relocate temporarily to India because Toronto had proven an equally impossible nut to crack. By then, I was desperate for radio work after a gap of three years.

On 11 October 2000, I brought my completed visa application form to the Indian Consulate in Toronto at the 9.30am opening time, took a numbered ticket from the dispenser and waited patiently for two hours until my number was called. I passed my documents to the clerk at the window, who told me the visa charge was $120. I asked her why, when the form itself stated the fee was $78 for a one-year visa. She waved me to an office at the end of the counter to see someone else.

I waited my turn to enter this small office, where a male officer asked me what my problem was. I explained that there was no problem, but that the form said the visa was $78. “This is an old form,” he said, “the price has changed.” I showed him that my form, printed by the Toronto Consulate, was dated August 2000 and I had collected it only a few days ago. The officer quickly became very angry and told me: “What does it matter to you how much it is? We give you a receipt.” I explained that I had brought with me my budgeted cash amount of $78. The officer slammed my passport and papers down on his desk and shouted at me: “Either you want a visa, or you don’t want a visa.” So I picked up my papers and exited his office.

I returned to the line of visa windows and waited for a clerk to become free again. But the officer had followed me out of his office and now stood right in front of me, pushing me back from the windows and shouting in my face: “You are a crazy man. You are a crazy, crazy man. Who do you think you are, coming in here and demanding preferential treatment? What makes you so special? You must wait your turn, just like everybody else. Why do you want to be treated so special? You are a crazy, crazy man.” Then he stormed off. I was dumbstruck. The only thing I had done was ask why the price had suddenly increased by $42. The crowd of more than a hundred people in the waiting room looked at me in astonishment. I patiently waited my turn again and the same clerk at the same window I had visited earlier charged me $130, a further increase of $10 within only a few minutes.

Er, welcome to India?

[Originally published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2024/09/the-customer-is-always-crazy-crazy-man.html ]

The genesis of black music radio in London … still unfulfilled : 1970-1984 : Radio Invicta 92.4

 I only knew ‘Roger Tate’ (real name Bob Tomalski) through listening to his programmes on the radio. He was a DJ on ‘Radio Invicta‘, London’s first soul music radio station, launched in 1970. Invicta was a pirate radio station. Back then, there were no legal radio stations in the UK other than the BBC.

The notion of a campaign for a soul music radio station for London had been a little premature, given that no kind of commercial radio had yet existed in Britain. But that is exactly what Radio Invicta did. As Roger Tate explained on-air in 1974:

“Who are Radio Invicta? You may well be asking. Well, we’re an all-soul music radio station. We’re more of a campaign than a radio station, I suppose. We believe in featuring more good soul music on the radio.”

By 1982, ‘Black Echoes‘ music paper reported that Radio Invicta was attracting 26,000 listeners each weekend for its broadcasts. By 1983, Radio Invicta had collected a petition of 20,000 signatures in support of its campaign for a legal radio licence. There was sufficient space on the FM band for London to have dozens more radio stations. By then, local commercial radio had existed in the UK for a decade. But nobody in power wanted to receive the station’s petition and Invicta’s Mike Strawson commented:

“I have tried to speak to the Home Office about it, but it shuts the door.”

Radio Invicta eventually closed for good on 15 July 1984, the date that the new ‘Telecommunications Act’ had dramatically increased the penalties for getting caught doing pirate radio to a £2,000 fine and/or three months in jail. By then, ‘Capital Radio’ had enjoyed its licence as London’s only commercial radio music station for eleven years. Its monopoly reign was still to run for a further six years.

It might have seemed in 1984 that Radio Invicta’s fourteen-year struggle to play soul music on the radio in London had come to absolutely nothing. The Invicta team went their separate ways after the pirate station’s closure. Roger Tate continued his career as a successful technology journalist. After his death in 2001, aged only forty-seven, one of his friends, Trevor Brook, spoke of Tate’s determination to play soul music on the radio in the face of opposition from the government and the radio ‘establishment.’ His eulogy at the funeral of his friend included these comments:

“The government told the story that there were no frequencies available. Now Bob was not stupid. He had enough technical knowledge to know that this was simply not true. So, either government officials were too dim to realise the truth of the situation … or they were just lying. Nowadays, we have 300 independent transmitters operating in those same wavebands, so you can probably work out which it was. Anyway, in Britain, the result was that any proper public debate about the possible merits of more radio listening choice was sabotaged by this perpetual claim that it was impossible anyway.

So, we had pirates. Other countries which had not liberalised the airwaves had pirates as well, but some of them took the refreshingly realistic approach that no harm was being caused, and they permitted unlicensed operations to continue until they got round to regularising the situation. Ambulances still reached their destinations and no aeroplanes fell out of the sky. Not so in this country though. The enforcement services here were too well funded and the established orthodoxy too well entrenched. That ‘frequency cupboard’ was going to be kept well and truly locked!

Bob had thrown himself into running a regular soul station, Radio Invicta. He built a studio, tore it apart and built a better one. He eventually sectioned off part of the flat as a separate soundproofed area. He built transmitters – and got them working. But Bob was nothing if not multi-skilled, and he excelled in producing the programmes themselves. Using nothing more impressive than an old four-track reel-to-reel tape recorder, Bob would create highly polished jingles and station identifications. ‘Roger Tate, super soul DJ.’ Other stations, both official and unofficial, listened to what Bob and his colleagues did and their ideas were copied or imitated.

Faced with the authorities, Bob was remarkable, because he was absolutely fearless. He was certain they were in the wrong and, given enough time, were going to lose the battle. It was a war of attrition and only perpetual piracy was ever going to bring about change. And he was quite right about that. The government kept winning the battle in the courts but began to lose the moral one. Eventually the law was changed. 

Do we have free radio now? In the sense that anybody can decide to start up a new magazine, find the finance and get on with it, no, we don’t have that for radio. The process is bound up with a longwinded regulation and approval process involving a statutory body which has had its fingers burnt in the past by the odd bankruptcy and the odd scandal. So they play safe and issue more licences to those who already have stations. The consequence is that originality and creativity get crushed into blandness and mediocrity. My own teenagers constantly flip between stations in the car, but they don’t care enough about any of them to listen indoors. Fresh people don’t get to control stations. Behind boardroom doors, they might think it privately, but in what other industry would the chairman of the largest conglomerate in the market dare to say publicly that even the present regime was too open and, I quote, ‘was out of date and was letting inexperienced players into the market’? That is a disgraceful statement. Where would television, theatre, comedy, the arts, and so on be, if new and, by definition, inexperienced people didn’t get lots of exposure? The industry is stale, complacent and rotten. Bob, there are more battles out there and we needed you here.”

Ten years later, these words are just as pertinent. It is hard to believe that a bunch of enthusiastic soul music fans who wanted to play their favourite music to their mates could have posed such a threat to the established order. But the history of radio broadcasting in the UK has demonstrated repeatedly that ‘the great and the good’ consider the medium far too important to let control fall out of their hands. Their arguments, however ridiculous, were taken completely seriously because they were the establishment.

Peter Baldwin, deputy director of radio at the ‘Independent Broadcasting Authority’ [regulator], said in 1985:

“We wouldn’t want to be dealing with two current local stations [in one area]. If it’s Radio Yeovil [operating as the only commercial station in Yeovil], well, that’s okay … But we couldn’t subscribe to competition [for existing local commercial pop music station Swansea Sound] from Radio Swansea, unless it was in Welsh or concentrated on jazz – and there probably wouldn’t be sufficient demand for that kind of service.”

James Gordon (now Lord Gordon), then managing director of ‘Radio Clyde‘, wrote in ‘The Independent‘ newspaper in 1989:

“It has to be asked whether there is really evidence of pent-up demand from listeners for more localised neighbourhood stations … Eight to ten London-wide stations would be enough to cater for most tastes.”

David Mellor MP told the House of Commons in 1984:

“The government do not believe that it would be sensible or fair to issue pirate broadcasters with licences to broadcast. To do so, on the basis suggested by the pirate broadcasters, would be progressively to undermine the broadcasting structure that has evolved over the years.”

However, within five years, the government did indeed license a pirate radio station to broadcast in London. Once Invicta had disappeared in 1984, it was superseded by newer, more commercially minded, more entrepreneurial pirate radio stations – ‘JFM’, ‘LWR’, ‘Horizon’ – that played black music for Londoners. In 1985, a new pirate station called ‘KISS FM’ started, quite hesitantly at first. Its reign as a London pirate proved to be much shorter than Invicta’s but, by the time KISS closed in 1988, it was probably already better known than Invicta.

KISS FM went on to win a London radio licence in 1989 and re-launched legally in 1990. It carried with it the debt of a twenty-year history of black music pirate radio in London started by Radio Invicta and then pushed forward by hundreds of DJ’s who had worked on dozens of London black music stations. KISS FM would never have existed or won its licence without those pirate pioneers.

Sadly, the importance of KISS FM’s licence as the outcome of a twenty-year campaign seemed to be quickly forgotten by its owners and shareholders. The lure of big bucks quickly replaced pirate ideology during a period of history when ‘get rich quick’ was peddled by government as the legitimate prevailing economic philosophy. KISS FM lost the plot rapidly and soon became no more than a money-making machine for a faceless multimedia corporation.

Right now, there remains as big a gap between pirate radio and the licensed radio broadcasters as existed twenty years ago or even forty years ago. London’s supposedly ‘black music’ stations, KISS FM and ‘Choice FM‘, now sound too much of the time like parodies of what they could be. Whereas pirate radio in London still sounds remarkably alive, unconventional and creative. More importantly, only the pirates play the ‘tunes’ that many of us like to hear.

The issue of how black music was ignored by legal radio in London, and then betrayed by newly licensed black music radio stations, is on my mind because of my new book ‘KISS FM: From Radical Radio To Big Business.’ It documents a small part of the history of black music pirate radio in London, and it charts the transformation of KISS FM from a rag tag group of black music fanatics into a corporate horror story. I was on the inside of that metamorphosis and it was an experience that, even twenty years later, remains a sad and terrible time to recall.

In 1974, Roger Tate had wanted more black music to be heard on the radio in London. Ostensibly, that objective has been achieved. But the black music I hear played on white-owned stations in London (there is no black-owned station) is a kind of vanilla ‘K-Tel‘ ‘black music’ that is inoffensive and unchallenging.

If Croydon is the dubstep capital of the world, how come there is no FM radio station playing dubstep in Croydon, or even in London? How come I never hear reggae on the radio when London is one of the world cities for reggae? How come I had to turn to speech station ‘BBC Radio Four‘ to hear anything about the death of Gil Scott-Heron in May? Why is it that Jean Adebambo’s suicide went completely unremarked by radio two years ago?

Legitimate radio in London seems just as scared of contemporary cutting-edge black music as it was in the 1970’s when Roger Tate was trying to fill the gaping hole with Radio Invicta. Nothing has really changed. Except now there exists the internet to fill that gaping hole. And FM pirate radio in London continues to satisfy demands from an audience that legitimate radio has demonstrated time and time again that it doesn’t give a shit about. Is it any surprise that young people are deserting broadcast radio?

Forty years ago, I listened to Roger Tate and London pirates like Radio Invicta because they played the music I wanted to hear. Forty years later, I find it absolutely ridiculous that I am still listening to a new generation of London pirates because they still play the music I want to hear. As Trevor Brook suggested at Roger’s funeral, our radio system is so consumed by “blandness and mediocrity” that “the industry is stale, complacent and rotten.”

Roger Tate R.I.P. You may be gone, but you and your campaign at Radio Invicta are as necessary as ever today. Sad but true.

[First published by Grant Goddard: Radio Blog as ‘Radio Invicta: The Genesis Of Black Music Radio In London … Still Unfulfilled‘, 1 July 2011. Available as download.]

[Republished at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2024/05/the-genesis-of-black-music-radio-in.html ]

Sacked by a boss desperate to steal my success : 1991 : Gordon McNamee, KISS 100 FM, London

 It was a little after seven o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. Normally, I would already have been out of bed by that hour on a weekday. However, the previous night’s ‘DJ meeting’ [open to all 44 KISS FM presenters] had tired me out. I was awake, but I was still trying to urge my body to get out of bed. The mobile phone stationed beside my bed rang noisily and forced my brain into action far faster than it wanted.

It was [KISS FM personal assistant to managing director] Rosee Laurence on the line, asking if I could schedule a meeting that morning with [KISS FM managing director] Gordon McNamee. I scrambled out of bed to retrieve my diary from the battered ‘WH Smith’ black plastic briefcase I always took to work. Requests for meetings at such short notice were common although, during the last few days, McNamee had had no contact with me. Laurence suggested ten o’clock. I explained that I already had an editorial meeting [of my programming department] scheduled for half past ten, but I could fit it in as long as the meeting was not going to last too long. She assured me that it would not. I scribbled “10am – Gordon” in my diary, replaced the mobile phone in its charger and got on with the business of waking up properly.

My diary told me that I had two further meetings that afternoon – a weekly sponsorship get-together at one o’clock with [KISS FM finance director] Martin Strivens and the sponsorship manager, Gordon Drummond, followed by a debriefing session in the boardroom at three o’clock with KISS FM’s partners in the Pepsi promotion. During the drive from my flat to the office, I reflected on the possible reason for the early morning phone call. Was McNamee going to tell me what had happened at the previous day’s board meeting? Was he going to pretend that nothing untoward had happened and that the board had approved all his [unachievable] targets for Year Two?

I was already running late when I became caught up in the worst of the rush-hour traffic along Holloway Road. Although my work day officially started at half past nine, I liked to arrive at work earlier so that I could snatch a little time to myself before the inevitable mayhem started in the department. However, that day, there was only time to down a quick cup of tea before walking up to the top floor in time for my ten o’clock appointment. Gordon McNamee was sat in his corner office when Laurence ushered me in. After exchanging morning greetings, I sat facing McNamee across his huge wooden desk. He shuffled from side to side in his chair a few times, avoiding looking directly into my eyes, and he sighed unusually heavily. Several times, he looked up at me as if he was going to say something, but then stopped short.

I stared at him blankly, not knowing what to expect. Eventually, he started mumbling something apologetically, but still he was making little sense. I knew then that McNamee had bad news to break to me. He had always been excellent at whipping his team into a frenzy of enthusiasm when something good was happening, but he was almost incapable of breaking negative news to anyone. He started speaking slowly and managed to explain that he had been “extremely vexed” by the memo I had delivered to him two days earlier. ‘Vexed’ was one of McNamee’s favourite words to use in situations when somebody had done something that displeased him. Anyone else might have been angry, but McNamee was always ‘vexed.’

As he reflected upon the contents of my memo and how ‘vexed’ it had made him, McNamee seemed better able to talk to me directly and to break the bad news. He explained that the board had met the previous afternoon and had decided that the company no longer needed my services. He muttered something about this being the hardest thing he had ever had to do and how he regretted the decision, but I was barely listening to his words. Instead, I was thinking how cowardly was this man sitting in front of me. I was thinking that, even now, he had no intention of telling me the truth of what had taken place at the board meeting, or how he had probably acted to save his own skin. What I wanted to know was what he had told the board about my dissent and what he had told the board of my contributions to the station’s success.

But there seemed little point in saying anything at all to the cowering figure sat in front of me, with whom I had worked so closely for more than two years. I got up to leave the room. McNamee had failed to deliver my promised rewards on so many occasions that I did not need to hear another fabricated story about why I was not getting things to which I felt I was entitled. As I left his office, McNamee said that it would be necessary for me to leave the building immediately, and he thrust some documents into my hand. I walked straight out of his office, shocked that, even at this stage in our relationship, McNamee was still incapable of telling me truthfully why I had to go.

Before I could reach the staircase to return to my office, McNamee had caught up with me and was asking me to stop. For a second, I felt as if I should ignore him totally and just carry on walking, but I turned towards him at the very top of the building’s stairwell.

“We could say that you had resigned, to make it easier for you, if you wanted,” McNamee suggested to me.

I stared at him coldly with a combination of anger and hatred that I could feel welling up inside me.

“Gordon, that’s a fucking insult,” I spat at him. Then I turned and walked down the staircase leading to my office on the next floor.

I was incensed. After all the sweat, blood and toil I had poured into this company. After all the personal sacrifices I had made to ensure that KISS FM succeeded. After my hard work had produced the required results more quickly than had ever been anticipated [Year One target of one million listeners per week achieved within first six months on-air]. Now, I was being asked to resign from a job in which I had achieved nothing but success. McNamee’s cheek to even suggest such a thing had made me really angry. I was in a rage as I stormed into my office. The programming floor was starting to fill up, as staff trickled into work. My first thought was the speed with which McNamee had insisted I must leave the station. Rather than suffer the indignity of being forcibly removed from the building by the station’s security guard, I started to pack up my possessions.

[KISS FM head of music] Lindsay Wesker caught my attention as he walked onto the floor from the staircase. He was one of my senior team members, so I felt I should break the bad news to him personally. The only private place I could think of to talk was the men’s toilet in the stairwell of the floor, so we crowded into the tiny cubicle.

“I’ve just been sacked,” I said to Wesker, “and I’ve been told to leave the building immediately.”

Wesker looked thoughtful, but did not seem particularly shocked. I suddenly understood that Wesker must have been the only member of my team to know what was going to happen to me, before I did.

“Just as you’ve said before,” said Wesker calmly, “it’s always the programming department that gets the chop.”

These were the very words I had shared with Wesker more than a year earlier, during the first programme planning meeting I had convened at [former KISS FM office] Blackstock Mews. Wesker had mulled over my words carefully then and, now, I realised why he had found those words so interesting. In Wesker’s eyes, he had got rid of me at last. I exited the men’s toilet without saying another word.

Having received no sympathy from Wesker for my predicament, I walked back to my office and continued assembling my personal effects. I had spent far more of my waking hours in that building during the last year than I had at home, so many of my own possessions were intermingled with that of the company. There was the portable television I had brought to the office when the Gulf War had started, there was a portable cassette player I used, the records I had used to make station jingles, and unread magazines that were cluttering the floor. These were all mine. I started gathering them together into a manageable pile to take away with me. Other staff on the floor noticed me through the clear plastic partition of my office and started to wonder what was going on.

I told Philippa Unwin, who had worked with me closely as the department administrator since the Blackstock Mews days, what had just happened to me. She became visibly upset. As I told other members of my team, they stood around the floor in disbelief and shock.

[KISS FM head of talks] Lorna Clarke said to me: “They can’t sack you just like that. You’re the only one who knows how this whole station works.”

I felt pressured by the urgency to get out quickly, so I started carrying boxes of my things down three flights of stairs to put in my company car parked at the back of the building. I suddenly realised that my hasty and unexpected departure from KISS FM could be explained away to the staff on any pretext, unless I could make some kind of statement myself. The memo that had ‘vexed’ Gordon so much had recorded all the significant events of the previous week, as well as having stated my unambiguous position on wanting KISS FM to adopt a realistic strategy for its future.

After less than a year on-air, one of the staff’s major criticisms was the lack of information about company decisions that trickled down to them from the senior management. Only those staff working most closely with me in the programming department understood that I was just as ill-informed about what was going on at board level as everybody else was in the building. Using a Prit-Stick from the top drawer of my desk, I glued a copy of my memo to Gordon McNamee onto the clear plastic partition of my office. My room opened onto the floor’s entrance lobby and the partition could be seen by everyone passing through the department. Alongside the memo, I glued the document detailing the programming policy changes I had been ordered by McNamee to devise.

While I continued to gather together my possessions, staff in the department started to read my two memos, all the while expressing outrage that my dismissal could be so abrupt. Then, Wesker burst into my office and handed me a sheet of ledger paper.

“Rosee [Laurence] upstairs says these things are KISS property which you have to give back before you go,” said Lindsay sheepishly.

Inscribed in red ink was a list:

“1) security tag 13-92 + ID pass.
2) office & studio keys.
3) car keys.” 

It was evident that Wesker had been anticipating my dismissal and was acting as messenger boy for the management staff on the top floor who were too cowardly to talk to me directly. I snatched the piece of paper from him, but ignored it. I asked him, rhetorically, how I was expected to take home all my personal possessions without being able to use the company car?

Before leaving the station for the last time, I walked around the programming department and said my hurried goodbyes to the few staff who were already at their desks. Because the majority of my team worked shifts, there were only a few people there. In the DJs’ office, [daytime presenter] David Rodigan was sat at his desk, facing the front windows that looked out over Holloway Road. His back was towards the office door, so I had to interrupt his preparations for that day’s lunchtime show to bid him farewell. He expressed outrage at my sacking and seemed bewildered by the speed with which I was being forced to leave.

There was nothing left to do except thank everyone who was in the department for the good times we had spent together and to give many of them one last hug. Some of the staff were crying, others were visibly angry, and some did not seem to believe the events that were unfolding right in front of their eyes. Wesker was the only person who seemed unmoved by the whole scene. He was busy protesting that I had not left the company’s property that he had been given responsibility to collect. I could not have cared less.

I got into my company car, half expecting someone to rush out and stop me driving it away. But they did not, and I drove away from the station’s car park for the very last time. I had arrived at work barely two hours ago. Now, I was already on my way home again. It felt as if some ghastly mistake had happened, some chance mishap over which I had been able to exert no control. I could not believe that this would really be the very last day I ever worked at KISS FM. The traffic was much lighter on the roads, now that the rush hour was over, so I reached home within half an hour. By then, I was feeling neither upset nor angry about my dismissal. More, I was stunned that the end could have come so abruptly, and without McNamee having offered any gratitude for my significant contributions to KISS FM’s success.

[Excerpt from ‘KISS FM: From Radical Radio To Big Business: The Inside Story Of A London Pirate Radio Station’s Path To Success’ by Grant Goddard, Radio Books, 2011, 528 pages]

[Originally blog published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2024/05/sacked-by-boss-so-desperate-to-steal-my.html ]