Radio Gaga

Hey! Buzz, why don't you just stop listening to the radio instead of complaining about it? Try internet radio, use your iPod, give it up, get a life.

I know, I know. And I try - I do - but it's hard.

It's hard because radio used to be so darn good, so fresh, so exciting, so inspiring. I know I can't have it, but I want it back.

I also know two other things:
1) I'm not alone
2) The decline has been long and sad

Queen, The Kinks, and Tom Petty have all produced classics lamenting the neutering and lobotomizing of radio during its relentless slide into a commercialized corporate commodity. They also shouted, "It used to be so good! I want it back."

Internet radio is OK, and I do enjoy the power of choosing from my own iPod playlists, but ... make that four other things I know:
3) Culture is supposed to be a shared experience, not solitary
4) The decline of radio is a metaphor for bigger problems in our society

All too often, when I listen to the radio I realize that I am not being entertained. I am being managed, manipulated - ripped off. And it doesn't stop there. TV, shopping malls, cellphones, sporting events ... it's everywhere. Our souls have been stolen, and placed on spreadsheets and sales charts.

Something beautiful and priceless has been made cheap and ugly. Paradise has been covered over with asphalt. It makes me sad. It makes me angry.

Tom Petty says it best in The Last DJ:
   As we celebrate mediocrity all the boys upstairs want to see
   How much you'll pay for what you used to get for free

It used to be so good! I want it back.

You Talk Too Much

For as long as can remember, I've been shouting at my radio.

Rather, I've been shouting at the DJ's who talk too much. Time was I used to shout when they talked over the beginning or the ending of a song I liked. These days, I wish they would.

You see, they used to talk over the beginning and ending of songs because they had stuff to say. Not always important stuff, but it was usually information: coming up in later in the program, one of those live, announcer-delivered commercials, whatever.

Thing is, they had songs to play and information to impart. so they talked over the music to cram it all in. And yes, those were the good old days, because now they talk to avoid playing music.

The more they talk, they less music they play. The less music they play, the less they pay in royalties. The less they pay in royalties, the higher their profits are.

You can picture the meeting, where the suits sit around a table and figure this out. You can imagine the internal memos to the DJ's exhorting them to blather on about how hung over they are, share drunken bar-style drivel (aka opinions) about things they don't understand, to drone on with celebrity gossip and incorrect factoids ... anything but play music.

Morning DJ's have supposedly been the funny guys for as long as I can remember. It was one of the first good ideas that got replicated by our culture to the point where it became pointless.

But the old morning DJ's were professional comedians. They wrote material. Today's clowns just ad lib, and pretend whatever nonsense they utter is funny.

The insult on this injury when you tune in later in the day (or Saturday morning) and they play back highlights of this garbage!

By contrast, talking over a bit of a really cool song was like living in paradise (well, maybe just a bit at the end of Hey Jude).

War is declared and the battle come down

So, you’re a public broadcaster that is working overtime to be hip, to be relevant.  The Olympics are on.  In London, a pretty hip place.  What theme song do you use to introduce your Olympic news updates?

London Calling, by the Clash.  A downer of a song.  An angry song.  An apocalyptic song.  A paranoid song.  By a punk band.  Come on, CBC.  Really?

Don’t get me wrong; it’s a great song by a terrific band.  I love it.

But are we so shallow, so inured to manipulation, so dumbed down that we aren’t supposed to look past the title?

Nuclear error?  Zombies of death?  London is drowning?  Help!

Assuming he collects some royalty payments, I suppose Mick Jones (alas, Joe Strummer is no longer with us) can laugh his way to the bank.  But as an artist, I gotta believe he’s just a little offended that someone would treat his masterpiece in such a superficial way.

I know, I know.   It goes on all the time.  Product commercials, political campaigns, whatever.

But is it hip?  Is it cool?  No.  It’s stupid.