Me And My Radio

Pocket radio memories . . and a new toy to play with.

Roberts

I remember when I got my first radio. It was a little thing, not unlike the one pictured above, but with a big speaker grille occupying most of the front space (unlike the one pictured, which is designed to be used with headphones, but which is the nearest distant relative I still possess).

It was cheap, plastic, and could be held easily in one hand. The sound from it was a little tinny, but it was mine – finally I could choose my own listening, my own place, time, and station. The controls were simple – one wheel for volume (which also controlled on/off) and another for tuning. The radio being small, and the wheel sticky, tuning in stations, especially on FM, was almost an art form. And with cheap components it whistled and whined on AM, and would frequently de-tune from whatever station you were listening to.

Back in those days, you still referred to these things as a “transistor radio” – often shortened to “tranny“, which at that time either had not acquired the more modern usage as a gender related slur, or it was less commonly used. The “transistor” radio was one of those phases we go through linguistically, where we specifically incorporate the name of some new component into the name of a thing, even though most of the users would have little knowledge of what a transistor actually is, or how it differed from a non transistor radio. These technical names attach themselves to things for a period, and then eventually fade away, the transistor radio just becoming the plain old radio again.

Another good example of that is the “Microcomputer“, which, if you took it’s name as a literal meaning, would have been a computer so tiny that you would need a magnifying glass to find it on your desk. In fact, “Micro” computers were great big hulking beasts, taking up most of your desktop, and took their name from the then relatively new to mass market micro-processor at their heart. For a while in the early 80s, computer stores were always “Bill’s Micros” or “Sutton Micros” or “First Micro” etc, until the name gradually faded away to be replaced by the more prosaic “computer” of the desktop or laptop variety. Though of course, the biggest tech giant, which was born in those early PC days, does still carry the name – Microsoft.

Another example of such nomaculture, which has now almost faded away is the cellphone, which is what most mobile phones were initially called by users in the 80s and early 90s (and still are, to an extent, in the USA). This was again a case where the technical aspect of a product’s operation was included in the name – possibly by the designing engineers – and eventually being lost as generations of users, to whom the product is no longer a novelty, use them without any knowledge of the “transmission cell” technology which enables them to function.

Cellphones became mobiles, and just phones in many cases, and have now gained the title “smartphone” as they have started adding functionality not traditionally found on phones, such as mail, web-browsing, application support, and radio. How long will it be, I wonder, before the “smarts” of the smartphone are so taken for granted by users that they cease to have to be defined as smart, and become again, simply “the phone” ?

The arrival of radio onto mobile phones predated the smartphone era, and saved my bacon on one memorable occasion in 2009 when I was doing an outside broadcast for Phantom, and we suddenly lost the off-air monitor function on the desk. As I was not playing the music locally, but remote-controlling the playout system back at base through a laptop hookup, it was vital that I could hear what was going out on air, and i suddenly found myself adrift. Cue a few moments of panic before I realised that my trusty Nokia mobile could be pressed into service as an off-air monitor, though I’m sure it did our image no good at a very public location for me to be seen wearing, not the usual “big DJ headphones” but a tiny mobile with Walkman type personal earphones.

Fstream

That was an FM radio facility, but mobile phones have moved on smartly since then, to the point where a variety of apps allow you to listen to online stations, or online feeds of terrestrial stations, from pretty much anywhere in the world, restricted only by occasional copyright issues. Most radio stations have their own app for ease of listening, and those that don’t are usually possible to get via specialised apps such as Tunein or Fstream (pictured above).

So a couple of days ago, I was lying in bed, enjoying what was, for me, a very rare lie-in. And I was listening to an online station through my smartphone.  Nothing unusual in that . I use the phone for a lot of online listening: to get Radio 4 in good quality for example, or to listen to stations not available locally. But usually when listening, I am using headphones. In fact, I would virtually never listen to radio, podcast, or music on the phone any other way.

But lying in bed earphones are a drag, and I was feeling too lazy to get out of bed and go fire up the laptop to listen through the speakers. So I did something i rarely do, which was listen to the phone without headphones, through it’s own little speaker. And that’s when it hit me.

There I was, holding in my hand a device that was roughly the same size and shape as my first ever radio, though possibly a bit lighter. And I was listening to the radio on it, with that same slightly tinny sound that you get from small speakers, except that this was probably slightly better in that there was no whistles and de-tuning.

What I held in my hand at that moment was, to all intents and purposes, the portable “transistor radio” of old.

I know many radio purists of the old school who will disagree, and talk about receiving terrestrial signals. But to me that is not the point.

When I was a kid, I had a little box, and I could use it to listen to RTE, or BBC, or some other station I wanted to hear. Now, today, I can hold in my hand a box that allows me to do exactly the same. And more – If I want to, I can just as easily listen to Caroline or Radio Jackie or a station in Australia, all in the same quality, and without having to be in their specific area.

Just like the pocket radio of old, the battery will run down after a number of hours of listening. But instead of having to buy new ones, I simply plug in and recharge. And the phone allows me to do lots of other stuff too (though that is not the point of this piece).

The problem with internet radio always used to be it’s lack of mobility, as well as the fact that in pre-broadband days it could be clunky and intermittent to listen to. Better connection speeds solved the reliability issue, while the smartphone has essentially liberated online radio from the home, and allowed it to go with you. Wifi is nice, but not essential – as long as there is 3G coverage, most radio station apps will work just fine.

Caroline

I remember doing online broadcasts 10 years ago, and at times it could be a pretty lonely show. The emails came in, but they could not be described as thick and fast. These days, working with Caroline, my response from online listeners vastly outnumbers satellite ones, and it seems to be almost as easy for people to tune in as it used to be.

It’s funny that I never made the connection between the smartphone and those old, little portable radios before. It took the removal of my headphones, and a sudden reversion to that lower sound quality of yesteryear, for me to make the emotional connection.

Broadcasting is not necessarily about aerials and signals, any more than good radio is about vinyl rather than CD.

Radio is about the content, the connection, the passion.

The old transistor radio was just a tool to deliver that content to me, just as the new age one in my shirt pocket does in 2013.

Steve


. . and followed up beautifully.

Following on from my comments yesterday about the way BBC Radio 4’s The Archers handled its anniversary and other plotlines in its usual understated, skillful manner, tonight’s episode followed on perfectly from the fall of much loved Nigel Pargetter from a high roof, and a day of “Is Nigel dead or not” speculation amongst fans.

Again eschewing the TV soap model which would have had us evesdrop on the immediate and gory aftermath, tonight’s episode instead opened the morning after, as news is spreading amongst relatives, and the Nigel’s widow Elizabeth is in a shocked state of near silence. We get told that she saw the body after the fall and had to be pried away from it, but we don’t have to hear it firsthand. We know that her brother David encouraged Nigel up onto the roof against his better judgment, but no one else does yet. We’re not even sure if David remembers this yet either, as he is in a shock induced daze also, having witnessed the terrible fall. David will remember. His conscience is too strong to let him him stay quiet, but there are no screaming recriminations . . yet.

Well done Archers team. Gripping drama, handled with sensitivity as always.

Steve


60 years of reasons why the UK’s best soap is a radio show

I’m an Archers listener, and despite lengthy flirtations with TV soaps including Eastenders (for most of the 90s), and Melrose Place (likewise), for the last many, many years, The Archers has been the only soap that I’ve actually followed.

The show celebrated its 60th anniversary this weekend (yes – it is the longest running drama show on either radio or TV in these islands, perhaps in the world, comfortably beating Coronation Street by nearly a decade) and it did so in it’s traditional and far more realistic style, the success of which is what has kept it on the air and popular for so many years.

Unlike the TV soaps, which regularly stage “‘spectaculars” to mark important events, or to grab audience share, which seemingly have few reverberating consequences, The Archers tends to use what I would describe as a “slow-cooker approach” to plotting, which I find much more believable and realistic.

In the extended anniversary episode, broadcast tonight, there were no plane crashes or tram smashes to bring spectacular destruction. The main inhabitants of the village of Ambridge celebrated New Year, a baby was born a little early after a scare, and a much loved husband fell (presumably to his death) from a high roof, upon which he had climbed with his brother in law to untie a festive banner.

The (presumed) death of Nigel Pargetter will not only play out in a series of consequences, slowly, over the next many months, but will amplify and re-stress storylines that have built over the last 10 to 15 years of on-off resentment between his wife/widow Elizabeth, and her brother David, who will now be perceived to be at fault for the calamity.

That’s how The Archers does stuff, slowly, at real-life speed, over long, long years or even decades.

Take for example Jack Wolley and his wife Peggy.

When Jack, one day in 2003 forgot that he had granted an employee a day off, but was discovered to be in the wrong, it was the first of many seeds of an Alzheimers storyline which would not even begin to become overt until a couple of years later.

This storyline has carried on, gradually, over the last 7 years, only recently progressing to the stage where he could remember so little, and had become so confused, that Peggy had to make the agonising decision to put him in a home. And he will live, in that home, for some time yet before he is killed off. Contrast that to the TV soaps.

About 3 years or so after Jack’s storyline began, an Alzheimers storyline was introduced for a regular in Coronation Street, who progressed from being totally without symptom, through the different stages at breakneck speed, and was dead within the year.

The slow, lifelike pace of The Archers imbues it with great depth, and often pathos, such as the way in which we could remember and contrast Jack’s memory and behaviour with Peggy over a number of successive wedding anniversaries, Christmases etc.

The fact that very often The Archers is a comforting slice of life in which “nothing happens” (because plots are not driven at breakneck speed, there do not have to be a million things going on in any individual episode) can make it strangely soothing.

I well remember, on the day of the London tube bombings, after hours and hours of broadcasts filled with doom and disaster, how refreshing that jangly theme tune sounded at two minutes past 7pm.

 

Ambridge - a place where nothing happens fast

Somewhere, somehow, life was going on, and that was comforting. This even though the episode itself did include reaction to the events (as a radio soap, quick edits can be made, and certain pairs of actors are on call for quick response to major events in real life, so a disaster, or a royal engagement, or an election result from today can be slipped seamlessly into casual conversation in an episode)

The other great brilliance of the show is down to its medium – radio.

I’ve always believed radio drama of infinite superiority to television, simply because of it’s book-like ability to let me use my own imagination. I have my own image of what central couple David and Ruth Archer look like, my own mental map of the landscape, and the picture I imagined of Nigel falling from that high rooftop tonight was more vivid and scary than any that TV could produce.

The Archers is 60 – long may it continue.

Steve