Bob Dylan will have a regular one-hour radio show on XM Satellite Radio, beginning in March 2006. For more info:
Dylan Digs XM [Fool.com: Motley Fool Take] December 14, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The Stones Dinner
Jim Pagliasotti recently wrote about Dan Fong at Dan's "The Creative Eye" website. In the process, he told some more about that infamous Stones/KFML dinner of May 1972:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
WHAT I COULD TELL YOU ABOUT DAN FONG
BY James Pagliasotti
Copyright 2005
There are a lot of stories I could tell you about Dan Fong. In fact, he would pay me good money not to tell you some of them.
But I will tell you this: if you care about the time when rock & roll came of age, those days of Jimi and Janis and the Who and the Stones, then I can assure you Dan was there, camera in hand and sharp eyes focused.
I know because I was there, too. Dan and I grew up together in Denver in the 50s, 60s and 70s. We were there when Top 40 radio gave way to free-form, when singles gave way to albums, when wholesome and carefully coiffed performers gave way to all those long haired freaks with guitars.
We were there when Chet Helms brought the Family Dog to town and settled in on West Mississippi; when Barry Fey began producing shows at the Denver Coliseum; when Stuart Green's Mammoth Gardens erupted in music uptown and Chuck Morris was booking Tulagi in Boulder. We heard it, we saw it, and we spent a lot of time with the people who made it happen. And, unlike many of the rest of us who were too stoned to function at the time, Dan got it all on film.
Most of his photos have never been seen before. Dan in those days was too busy to do anything but shoot them and store them away. Now he has this treasure trove to look through, and he's finally making them available to the rest of us.
As I pour over these galleries, the memories come back like a tsunami. They will for you too if you were there, or if you only imagined you were, or even if you just wanted to be. These photographs capture memories, but they can make them, too.
It was a time unlike any other and there were indeed a lot of scenes to capture, and stories to be told. Let me tell you just one of them.
When the Stones toured in the summer of 1972, Barry Fey was promoting some of their shows. He'd started out in the business a few years before by putting on a concert of the Byrds at a D.U. fraternity party and thereafter kept getting bigger, both in personal girth and the size of his shows. After the Denver Pop Festival in 1969, he became very big indeed. And, now, success hanging on him like slabs of fat on a roast, he wanted to have the Stones to dinner.
Dan Fong not only was a helluva photographer, he also was a serious chef. He'd grown up in a community of fine Chinese restaurants and this boy knew how to cook.
So Barry hired Dan to cook dinner for the Stones. He'd already done a number of backstage catering jobs at Fey's concerts, including both of the Stones' Denver shows, so it was a slam dunk. Mick wanted him so Barry wanted him and that's the way it was going to be. Barry then partnered up with all the freaks at KFML radio to give the evening some flavor, and before you knew it, it was becoming a rather auspicious event.
Keeping it a secret meant keeping it from the public. In the music business in Denver, everybody knew and everybody wanted to come, but not everybody could.
But then, that's what being a kingmaker is all about and Very Big Barry doled out the precious invitations as he saw fit. All we could do was to keep the location secret and somehow we did.
About the only way you could squeeze in a friend was to get them a job on the work crew that was going to help Dan Fong with the serving and cleaning. He'd already recruited his family and his friends at Bilotti's Pizza to help him prep and cook.
So, baby kingmakers that we were, we lined up the best looking girls that we knew to staff the party, figuring those were markers to be redeemed at a later time. I also got my friend Geitz Romo the job as bartender to the stars.
The party was held at Barry's home in Cherry Hills, which was one of those enormous Jewish modern ranch-style houses on an acre of land on Quincy just east of University. The back yard was scattered with dozens of waist-high, multi-colored paper mache mushrooms. Long low tables were set among them luau like and lanterns provided the light.
The piece de resistance was the Stones' newly minted lips and tongue logo in a sculpture some 5 feet tall, which was connected to a machine that was supposed to send clouds of bubbles out of the mouth. Unfortunately, the machine malfunctioned and all night long, this gelatinous goo kept pouring out of it, looking like nothing so much as puke.
So, the court gathered in advance of the stars. There was Barry, of course, and Cyndy, his wife at the time. Tall, blond, ice-blue-eyed Jerry Kennedy, the head of Denver's Vice Squad and Barry's security crew, was there in his captain's uniform, keeping tabs, one supposes.
There was Max Floyd of KMYR and Joe McGoey of KFML and assorted other business types that Barry wanted around. And there was Sandy Phelps and Thom Trunnell, Bill Ashford and Judy Roderick, Buffalo Chip and Reno Nevada and Brian the Super Warthog, David Shepardson and Ronnie Katz, Herb Neu and all the rest of the KFML gang, and Marcello Cabus, and me and the girls, and a host of other pseudo-celebrities.
And, behind a wall of grills and ovens, towering flames and truly huge mounds of food, was Dan Fong and his family, cooking their hearts out, while all of us awaited the Rolling Stones.
That night in those long ago times when things took place that today are actually hard to imagine, let alone to believe, Dan Fong cooked and served a 14 course sit down dinner for 100 people. And it was awesome! There was a little of this and a lot of that and oysters and duck and a roast pig the size of a small Mercedes cooked over an open pit. There were intoxicants of every sort, beer and wine, tequila and whiskey, and all sorts of other stuff, too; and there was that most ethereal of drugs: the bending of elbows with real celebrities, the once and future royalty of rock & roll.
You can bet Dan had his trusty camera handy. And somehow, in the midst of the flames and the grease and the chemistry of fine cuisine, he got some incredible shots, as he always did.
The Stones and their entourage arrived fashionably late, but well ahead of dinner. Mick was dressed in a baby blue jacket with feathers that trimmed the collar, the cuffs and the hem, which was cut off at the bottom of his ribs. It covered a sparkling silver shirt of some sort that also bared his midriff. His pants were dark blue tights and his shoes were satin slippers. His eyes were made up with sparkles and mascara. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable.
Keith was a bit out of it in those days and moved through the crowd somnambulistically, supported by two very tall Nordic women who drugged him and dragged him from place to place. Also very tall Mick Taylor was a friendly pile of blond curls, smiling and chatting and as nice as could be. Bill Wyman was sharp-faced, dark and intense, and good ol' Charlie Watts was just a regular guy.
I was sitting with him on a couch near the window, talking about jazz, and Mick was posing nearby, when Geitz the bartender yelled at me in a very loud voice: "Hey Smooth Dog! Tell that little faggot in the ballerina costume his drink is ready." Mick barely seemed to notice and smiled at me vaguely when I handed him the glass. Charlie laughed so hard that he fell on the floor.
It was one of those nights that kept unfolding like waves in the ocean, one image lapping in after another. We sat on the lawn at the long luscious tables of food and drink, with the lanterns bouncing light off faces that you knew and faces you only had imagined or seen at a distance or maybe on film. The mushrooms seemed to sway in the glow and the puke kept gurgling from the mouth of the Rolling Stones logo. Beautiful women served platters of indescribably delicious food and looked into your eyes for just a moment as though you were all they ever had dreamed of, and just as quickly they were gone in pursuit of any excuse to get close to Mick.
People that you worked for were passing out in the aisles and others that you barely paid attention to were waxing eloquent. Everybody it seemed got turned around completely and then had to reconfigure their bearings. And everybody went home happy.
Everybody, that is, except Dan. All of us first nighters and all of the staff, those beautiful girls and sharp tongued bartenders, everyone it seemed had wandered off into the night. And Dan Fong was left with a pile of pans and dishes and debris and detritus that defied the imagination of the average man among us. And having no other choice, he spent the night with all the crap and all of his equipment. And the next day, he and a couple of his cousins cleaned it all up, packed it away and took it home.
There among the equipment and the trash was his camera and his bag of lenses and film, and a couple of hundred shots he had taken that night that someday he would develop. The day that followed blended into the next and the next thereafter, and Dan Fong kept shooting pictures of the megastars and the lesser lights and some of the rest of us who peopled the portrait of rock & roll.
It was our story, and it was a helluva story, and all we needed was someone to record it. A good photographer is hard to find and so is Dan Fong. But, lucky you, you've found him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
To view Dan's work, please go to:
The Creativeye - Photography
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
WHAT I COULD TELL YOU ABOUT DAN FONG
BY James Pagliasotti
Copyright 2005
There are a lot of stories I could tell you about Dan Fong. In fact, he would pay me good money not to tell you some of them.
But I will tell you this: if you care about the time when rock & roll came of age, those days of Jimi and Janis and the Who and the Stones, then I can assure you Dan was there, camera in hand and sharp eyes focused.
I know because I was there, too. Dan and I grew up together in Denver in the 50s, 60s and 70s. We were there when Top 40 radio gave way to free-form, when singles gave way to albums, when wholesome and carefully coiffed performers gave way to all those long haired freaks with guitars.
We were there when Chet Helms brought the Family Dog to town and settled in on West Mississippi; when Barry Fey began producing shows at the Denver Coliseum; when Stuart Green's Mammoth Gardens erupted in music uptown and Chuck Morris was booking Tulagi in Boulder. We heard it, we saw it, and we spent a lot of time with the people who made it happen. And, unlike many of the rest of us who were too stoned to function at the time, Dan got it all on film.
Most of his photos have never been seen before. Dan in those days was too busy to do anything but shoot them and store them away. Now he has this treasure trove to look through, and he's finally making them available to the rest of us.
As I pour over these galleries, the memories come back like a tsunami. They will for you too if you were there, or if you only imagined you were, or even if you just wanted to be. These photographs capture memories, but they can make them, too.
It was a time unlike any other and there were indeed a lot of scenes to capture, and stories to be told. Let me tell you just one of them.
When the Stones toured in the summer of 1972, Barry Fey was promoting some of their shows. He'd started out in the business a few years before by putting on a concert of the Byrds at a D.U. fraternity party and thereafter kept getting bigger, both in personal girth and the size of his shows. After the Denver Pop Festival in 1969, he became very big indeed. And, now, success hanging on him like slabs of fat on a roast, he wanted to have the Stones to dinner.
Dan Fong not only was a helluva photographer, he also was a serious chef. He'd grown up in a community of fine Chinese restaurants and this boy knew how to cook.
So Barry hired Dan to cook dinner for the Stones. He'd already done a number of backstage catering jobs at Fey's concerts, including both of the Stones' Denver shows, so it was a slam dunk. Mick wanted him so Barry wanted him and that's the way it was going to be. Barry then partnered up with all the freaks at KFML radio to give the evening some flavor, and before you knew it, it was becoming a rather auspicious event.
Keeping it a secret meant keeping it from the public. In the music business in Denver, everybody knew and everybody wanted to come, but not everybody could.
But then, that's what being a kingmaker is all about and Very Big Barry doled out the precious invitations as he saw fit. All we could do was to keep the location secret and somehow we did.
About the only way you could squeeze in a friend was to get them a job on the work crew that was going to help Dan Fong with the serving and cleaning. He'd already recruited his family and his friends at Bilotti's Pizza to help him prep and cook.
So, baby kingmakers that we were, we lined up the best looking girls that we knew to staff the party, figuring those were markers to be redeemed at a later time. I also got my friend Geitz Romo the job as bartender to the stars.
The party was held at Barry's home in Cherry Hills, which was one of those enormous Jewish modern ranch-style houses on an acre of land on Quincy just east of University. The back yard was scattered with dozens of waist-high, multi-colored paper mache mushrooms. Long low tables were set among them luau like and lanterns provided the light.
The piece de resistance was the Stones' newly minted lips and tongue logo in a sculpture some 5 feet tall, which was connected to a machine that was supposed to send clouds of bubbles out of the mouth. Unfortunately, the machine malfunctioned and all night long, this gelatinous goo kept pouring out of it, looking like nothing so much as puke.
So, the court gathered in advance of the stars. There was Barry, of course, and Cyndy, his wife at the time. Tall, blond, ice-blue-eyed Jerry Kennedy, the head of Denver's Vice Squad and Barry's security crew, was there in his captain's uniform, keeping tabs, one supposes.
There was Max Floyd of KMYR and Joe McGoey of KFML and assorted other business types that Barry wanted around. And there was Sandy Phelps and Thom Trunnell, Bill Ashford and Judy Roderick, Buffalo Chip and Reno Nevada and Brian the Super Warthog, David Shepardson and Ronnie Katz, Herb Neu and all the rest of the KFML gang, and Marcello Cabus, and me and the girls, and a host of other pseudo-celebrities.
And, behind a wall of grills and ovens, towering flames and truly huge mounds of food, was Dan Fong and his family, cooking their hearts out, while all of us awaited the Rolling Stones.
That night in those long ago times when things took place that today are actually hard to imagine, let alone to believe, Dan Fong cooked and served a 14 course sit down dinner for 100 people. And it was awesome! There was a little of this and a lot of that and oysters and duck and a roast pig the size of a small Mercedes cooked over an open pit. There were intoxicants of every sort, beer and wine, tequila and whiskey, and all sorts of other stuff, too; and there was that most ethereal of drugs: the bending of elbows with real celebrities, the once and future royalty of rock & roll.
You can bet Dan had his trusty camera handy. And somehow, in the midst of the flames and the grease and the chemistry of fine cuisine, he got some incredible shots, as he always did.
The Stones and their entourage arrived fashionably late, but well ahead of dinner. Mick was dressed in a baby blue jacket with feathers that trimmed the collar, the cuffs and the hem, which was cut off at the bottom of his ribs. It covered a sparkling silver shirt of some sort that also bared his midriff. His pants were dark blue tights and his shoes were satin slippers. His eyes were made up with sparkles and mascara. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable.
Keith was a bit out of it in those days and moved through the crowd somnambulistically, supported by two very tall Nordic women who drugged him and dragged him from place to place. Also very tall Mick Taylor was a friendly pile of blond curls, smiling and chatting and as nice as could be. Bill Wyman was sharp-faced, dark and intense, and good ol' Charlie Watts was just a regular guy.
I was sitting with him on a couch near the window, talking about jazz, and Mick was posing nearby, when Geitz the bartender yelled at me in a very loud voice: "Hey Smooth Dog! Tell that little faggot in the ballerina costume his drink is ready." Mick barely seemed to notice and smiled at me vaguely when I handed him the glass. Charlie laughed so hard that he fell on the floor.
It was one of those nights that kept unfolding like waves in the ocean, one image lapping in after another. We sat on the lawn at the long luscious tables of food and drink, with the lanterns bouncing light off faces that you knew and faces you only had imagined or seen at a distance or maybe on film. The mushrooms seemed to sway in the glow and the puke kept gurgling from the mouth of the Rolling Stones logo. Beautiful women served platters of indescribably delicious food and looked into your eyes for just a moment as though you were all they ever had dreamed of, and just as quickly they were gone in pursuit of any excuse to get close to Mick.
People that you worked for were passing out in the aisles and others that you barely paid attention to were waxing eloquent. Everybody it seemed got turned around completely and then had to reconfigure their bearings. And everybody went home happy.
Everybody, that is, except Dan. All of us first nighters and all of the staff, those beautiful girls and sharp tongued bartenders, everyone it seemed had wandered off into the night. And Dan Fong was left with a pile of pans and dishes and debris and detritus that defied the imagination of the average man among us. And having no other choice, he spent the night with all the crap and all of his equipment. And the next day, he and a couple of his cousins cleaned it all up, packed it away and took it home.
There among the equipment and the trash was his camera and his bag of lenses and film, and a couple of hundred shots he had taken that night that someday he would develop. The day that followed blended into the next and the next thereafter, and Dan Fong kept shooting pictures of the megastars and the lesser lights and some of the rest of us who peopled the portrait of rock & roll.
It was our story, and it was a helluva story, and all we needed was someone to record it. A good photographer is hard to find and so is Dan Fong. But, lucky you, you've found him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
To view Dan's work, please go to:
The Creativeye - Photography
Thursday, December 08, 2005
KFML Radio News
I finally formatted to mp3 the classic KFML Newscast of Jim Clancy and Ed Chatham reporting on the Dallas Police Bust, 1972.
You GOTTA listen to this. Click on the following link, then go to "Sound Clips." Look for the "new" icon. Click to listen or right click to save for listening later... This cast really takes you back to the spirit of KFML!
KFML-AM & FM, Denver, Colorado
You GOTTA listen to this. Click on the following link, then go to "Sound Clips." Look for the "new" icon. Click to listen or right click to save for listening later... This cast really takes you back to the spirit of KFML!
KFML-AM & FM, Denver, Colorado
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Cream Reunion Concert - May 2005
Call me slow, but I just now saw the Cream Reunion Concert from May 2005. Billed as a "Great Performance" by PBS, it... is!
Cream history, info about the concert, clips and links at:
Great Performances . Cream Reunion Concert | PBS
Cream history, info about the concert, clips and links at:
Great Performances . Cream Reunion Concert | PBS
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Infamous KFML Dog Graphic
(KFML Graphic ran in Denver's "Straight Creek Journal," 1971)
The KFML webpages have been recently updated. A gem that has been added is the infamous KFML dog graphic that ran shortly after the station got underway in 1971.
For more KFML images, please go to:
KFML Photo Gallery
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Greatful Dead Hour
Here's a fine interview of David Gans of "The Greatful Dead Hour" about the show:
Gray Areas Interview With David Gans
Gray Areas Interview With David Gans
Friday, November 11, 2005
KFAT Online!
One of the very last commercial freeform stations... "KFAT is the only dead radio station you can listen to on your computer..." You gotta listen and read sections like "KFAT Memories"...
Radio successor KPIG is still alive and doing well. Check them out, too.
Original
KFAT Online
Radio successor KPIG is still alive and doing well. Check them out, too.
Original
KFAT Online
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Bonnie Raitt: 'Souls Alike'
The audio interviews are lackluster (not because of Raitt), but there's some good stuff here, especially Bonnie's beginning years in the late 1960's:
NPR : Bonnie Raitt: 'Souls Alike'
NPR : Bonnie Raitt: 'Souls Alike'
Friday, November 04, 2005
Radio's Loss of Local Relevancy
[ Following article courtesy of The Oakland Tribune and RedOrbit ]
Radio Fans Lament Loss of Local Feel
By John Geluardi
FOR THOSE of us who remember life before the Internet, MP3 players, satellite feeds or, gasp, cable TV, radio was our most vital connection to the outside world. It was our link to current events, culture and things that made our communities unique.
Broadcast radio was the ultimate accessible medium. Because there were no pictures, listeners had to participate with thought and imagination. Radio was a loyal companion and a ready escape hatch in the family den, by the bed or in the dashboard of our first car. It brought us breaking news, local sports and the latest hot song by a variety of musical artists.
Longtime Bay Area listeners, who regarded their favorite disc jockeys as friends and neighbors, say they can remember with remarkable clarity the voices of local radio personalities like Red Blanchard, who broadcast his variety show from the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, and Dr. Donald D. Rose, whose raucous morning program aired on KFRC. Then there was the steady flow of smooth "soul" music from KDIA and the freewheeling, alternate programming of KTIM.
But in the last several years, broadcast radio has steadily lost listeners while paid satellite radio subscriptions have skyrocketed. Those who are dissatisfied complain that traditional radio has become too corporate, there are too many advertisements and musical playlists have become generic and predictable. Critics say the radio industry is failing to develop a following among young people who have a plethora of entertainment choices and aren't as loyal to their local stations as their parents were.
Radio has taken a huge hit when it comes to young listeners, says Quincy McCoy of Richmond, author of "No Static; A Guide to Creative Radio Programming.""Go up to someone between the ages of 12 and 20 years old and ask them what their favorite radio station is or which disc jockey they like the most, and chances are they won't have an answer for you," McCoy says.
The signs of trouble are undeniable. According to Arbitron's most recent annual report on radio trends, the average listener in 2004 spent 19.45 hours a week tuned into radio, down from 20.45 hours in 2000.
While that may not seem like a huge drop, those numbers have the radio industry very worried. Clear Channel Communications, a radio giant that owns 1,200 stations nationwide, including 11 stations in the Bay Area, was so concerned about the loss of listeners that executives began a "less is more" policy that drastically cut advertising time. The move resulted in a modest increase in overall ratings, but at a cost. The company's second quarter radio earnings showed a $65 million loss compared with 2004.
And there was more bad news for radio. Sirius Satellite Radio recently announced it has doubled its subscriber base to 2 million listeners in the last year. Subscribers pay about $13 a month for more than 120 channels -- all of which are commercial free. Sirius executives say they are confident subscriptions will jump even more early next year when the hugely popular shock jock Howard Stern leaves terrestrial radio behind for satellite.
While radio is eager to attract young listeners, it has turned its back on the 55 and older crowd. There is little programming in the youth-oriented Bay Area that reflects the tastes of older listeners.
"I grew up listening to music on the radio in the 1950s," says lifelong Oakland resident Jan Bossetto, 65. "My husband and I listen to KFRC sometimes because they have a lot of 1960s music, but they've completely got rid of anything from the 1950s."
Bossetto quickly adds that she still relies on stations such as KCBS 740-AM and KGO 810-AM for local news and information, though she would like to hear more programming geared toward adults. Radio is losing listeners because it's not as spontaneous or locally vital, says McCoy, who has worked in radio as a programmer and on- air personality for the last 30 years. A series of actions by the Federal Communications Commission is responsible, he says, starting with the Deregulation of Radio Act in 1981 and ending with the Telecommunications Act of 1996.
The actions all favored corporate consolidations and shortchanged local listeners, McCoy says.
"In the old days, every radio station was required by the FCC to go to the public and ask what their concerns were and then do shows about them. Things like local crime trends, education and transportation were typical issues," McCoy says. "There was more emphasis on local news and local editorials. Now stations don't have a news or public affairs department."
Because of the consolidation of so many stations, radio programs are often recorded in one location and sent out to stations in as many as 100 different markets. And what is heard on the radio is increasingly controlled by survey group research used to develop uniform playlists. Even the disc jockeys are affected. The available pool of creative on-air talent has drastically shrunk because consolidation has greatly reduced the need for local on-air talent.
It isn't all bad news. Some corporate-owned stations such as KFOG 104.5-FM (97.7-FM San Jose), which is owned by Susquehanna Radio Corp., and Alice 97.3-FM (KLLC), owned by Infinity Broadcasting, heavily emphasize local promotions. KFOG promotes local musicians such as Chuck Prophet, The Rowen Brothers and Tea Leaf Green. The station also holds an annual popular fireworks show Kaboom, which has attracted thousands of people since 1996.
"All of our programming decisions are made at the local level," says John Peak, program director at Alice 97.3. "Especially with the Sarah and No Name (Alice's morning show). We do a lot of man-on-the- street stuff and on-site, live broadcasts."
But for some listeners, local promotions aren't enough. Scott Guitteau, 45, of Richmond came of age listening to free-form radio in Southern California. Such programming usually was characterized by a fair amount of political content and diverse musical playlists that included new artists. After moving to the Bay Area in 1981, Guitteau became an avid KFOG listener.
"The jocks had personality, and they played a lot of new music," he says. "But around 1987 the programming became stagnant or my taste in music diversified."
Guitteau, who remains a regular radio listener, mostly tunes into KPFA 94.1-FM, a Berkeley-based listener-supported station that's part of the Pacifica Network. The station has a strong focus on local issues, and the programming includes a variety of music. He says after listening to radio for free most of his life, paying for satellite radio seems like a sacrilege.
"I don't mind donating to KPFA, because it interacts with the community by broadcasting local politics, local activists and local artists," he says. "It contributes much more to the community than a big fireworks show every year."
KFOG Program Director Dave Benson says there is some merit to listeners' complaints about the dearth of local radio, but he says there are still a lot of locally programmed stations that are heavily focused on their communities.
"KFOG is probably one of the last music stations that has an actual live news person who does local news on our morning program," he says. "And the station has raised millions of dollars for local food banks as well as money for music programs at local schools."
RedOrbit - Technology - Radio Fans Lament Loss of Local Feel
Radio Fans Lament Loss of Local Feel
By John Geluardi
FOR THOSE of us who remember life before the Internet, MP3 players, satellite feeds or, gasp, cable TV, radio was our most vital connection to the outside world. It was our link to current events, culture and things that made our communities unique.
Broadcast radio was the ultimate accessible medium. Because there were no pictures, listeners had to participate with thought and imagination. Radio was a loyal companion and a ready escape hatch in the family den, by the bed or in the dashboard of our first car. It brought us breaking news, local sports and the latest hot song by a variety of musical artists.
Longtime Bay Area listeners, who regarded their favorite disc jockeys as friends and neighbors, say they can remember with remarkable clarity the voices of local radio personalities like Red Blanchard, who broadcast his variety show from the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, and Dr. Donald D. Rose, whose raucous morning program aired on KFRC. Then there was the steady flow of smooth "soul" music from KDIA and the freewheeling, alternate programming of KTIM.
But in the last several years, broadcast radio has steadily lost listeners while paid satellite radio subscriptions have skyrocketed. Those who are dissatisfied complain that traditional radio has become too corporate, there are too many advertisements and musical playlists have become generic and predictable. Critics say the radio industry is failing to develop a following among young people who have a plethora of entertainment choices and aren't as loyal to their local stations as their parents were.
Radio has taken a huge hit when it comes to young listeners, says Quincy McCoy of Richmond, author of "No Static; A Guide to Creative Radio Programming.""Go up to someone between the ages of 12 and 20 years old and ask them what their favorite radio station is or which disc jockey they like the most, and chances are they won't have an answer for you," McCoy says.
The signs of trouble are undeniable. According to Arbitron's most recent annual report on radio trends, the average listener in 2004 spent 19.45 hours a week tuned into radio, down from 20.45 hours in 2000.
While that may not seem like a huge drop, those numbers have the radio industry very worried. Clear Channel Communications, a radio giant that owns 1,200 stations nationwide, including 11 stations in the Bay Area, was so concerned about the loss of listeners that executives began a "less is more" policy that drastically cut advertising time. The move resulted in a modest increase in overall ratings, but at a cost. The company's second quarter radio earnings showed a $65 million loss compared with 2004.
And there was more bad news for radio. Sirius Satellite Radio recently announced it has doubled its subscriber base to 2 million listeners in the last year. Subscribers pay about $13 a month for more than 120 channels -- all of which are commercial free. Sirius executives say they are confident subscriptions will jump even more early next year when the hugely popular shock jock Howard Stern leaves terrestrial radio behind for satellite.
While radio is eager to attract young listeners, it has turned its back on the 55 and older crowd. There is little programming in the youth-oriented Bay Area that reflects the tastes of older listeners.
"I grew up listening to music on the radio in the 1950s," says lifelong Oakland resident Jan Bossetto, 65. "My husband and I listen to KFRC sometimes because they have a lot of 1960s music, but they've completely got rid of anything from the 1950s."
Bossetto quickly adds that she still relies on stations such as KCBS 740-AM and KGO 810-AM for local news and information, though she would like to hear more programming geared toward adults. Radio is losing listeners because it's not as spontaneous or locally vital, says McCoy, who has worked in radio as a programmer and on- air personality for the last 30 years. A series of actions by the Federal Communications Commission is responsible, he says, starting with the Deregulation of Radio Act in 1981 and ending with the Telecommunications Act of 1996.
The actions all favored corporate consolidations and shortchanged local listeners, McCoy says.
"In the old days, every radio station was required by the FCC to go to the public and ask what their concerns were and then do shows about them. Things like local crime trends, education and transportation were typical issues," McCoy says. "There was more emphasis on local news and local editorials. Now stations don't have a news or public affairs department."
Because of the consolidation of so many stations, radio programs are often recorded in one location and sent out to stations in as many as 100 different markets. And what is heard on the radio is increasingly controlled by survey group research used to develop uniform playlists. Even the disc jockeys are affected. The available pool of creative on-air talent has drastically shrunk because consolidation has greatly reduced the need for local on-air talent.
It isn't all bad news. Some corporate-owned stations such as KFOG 104.5-FM (97.7-FM San Jose), which is owned by Susquehanna Radio Corp., and Alice 97.3-FM (KLLC), owned by Infinity Broadcasting, heavily emphasize local promotions. KFOG promotes local musicians such as Chuck Prophet, The Rowen Brothers and Tea Leaf Green. The station also holds an annual popular fireworks show Kaboom, which has attracted thousands of people since 1996.
"All of our programming decisions are made at the local level," says John Peak, program director at Alice 97.3. "Especially with the Sarah and No Name (Alice's morning show). We do a lot of man-on-the- street stuff and on-site, live broadcasts."
But for some listeners, local promotions aren't enough. Scott Guitteau, 45, of Richmond came of age listening to free-form radio in Southern California. Such programming usually was characterized by a fair amount of political content and diverse musical playlists that included new artists. After moving to the Bay Area in 1981, Guitteau became an avid KFOG listener.
"The jocks had personality, and they played a lot of new music," he says. "But around 1987 the programming became stagnant or my taste in music diversified."
Guitteau, who remains a regular radio listener, mostly tunes into KPFA 94.1-FM, a Berkeley-based listener-supported station that's part of the Pacifica Network. The station has a strong focus on local issues, and the programming includes a variety of music. He says after listening to radio for free most of his life, paying for satellite radio seems like a sacrilege.
"I don't mind donating to KPFA, because it interacts with the community by broadcasting local politics, local activists and local artists," he says. "It contributes much more to the community than a big fireworks show every year."
KFOG Program Director Dave Benson says there is some merit to listeners' complaints about the dearth of local radio, but he says there are still a lot of locally programmed stations that are heavily focused on their communities.
"KFOG is probably one of the last music stations that has an actual live news person who does local news on our morning program," he says. "And the station has raised millions of dollars for local food banks as well as money for music programs at local schools."
RedOrbit - Technology - Radio Fans Lament Loss of Local Feel
Saturday, October 29, 2005
KRNW-FM, Boulder
Malcolm,
I was having a nostalgia attack one evening and came across your web pages featuring KFML and KRNW. I was a part timer at KRNW from 1971 to 1975. In order to get my foot in the door, I had to agree to work the Monday evening classical programs (the Evening Salon and Evening Concert) for free. Bob Wilkinson, the station owner, was never willing to relinquish the 6-10 PM Monday through Friday time slot for anything other than classical music. While the chamber music and symphonies were on the air, I would listen to all kinds of great modern music on the other turntable.
Eventually, I was able to play whatever I wanted on a Friday evening program from 10 PM to 2 AM. Bob had a wonderful Jazz library and I usually devoted the last hour or two of the program to Jazz. I also substituted for Michael Muirhead quite a few times in the afternoon.
The studio was up the stairs at 1410 Pearl Street in Boulder across from a recording studio. Bob had a stormy relationship with the landlord as well as other business people in Boulder. After a plumbing incident that caused some damage to the hardware store below the studio, we moved to 1428 Pearl Street. This was a newly remodeled building. There was a night club on the top floor. KRNW was on the second floor. About a year or so after the move the station was sold to the KBCO people.
Some of the names of the other announcers were:
Kate Fortin (6-10 AM)
Dave Nettles (the Audio Radiance program)
Russ Mallot
Stan Rheaume
Michael Allbright (on air name was Michael Kow 2-6 AM)
Rick Schultz (went on to KHOW-FM in Denver during their brief foray in to Jazz)
Michael Muirhead (chief announcer)
The weekend people were:
Jason Sherman He was a manger of some kind at Tulagis (a Boulder night club)
Rick Stott He owned a business called Trade a Tape and Records in Boulder
Kenny Weissberg
I could come up with some interesting stories about all the wonderful people involved with KRNW. I also had my own moments of notoriety. Thanks for your efforts devoted to Free Form Radio. I am enclosing Bob Wilkinson’s obituary from several years ago. I don’t remember the person quoted in the obituary. He may have been the classical program announcer. It is possible I had a memory lapse. After all I was one of “those longhairs”.
Regards,
James Kellogg
krnw_wilkinson-obit.pdf
I was having a nostalgia attack one evening and came across your web pages featuring KFML and KRNW. I was a part timer at KRNW from 1971 to 1975. In order to get my foot in the door, I had to agree to work the Monday evening classical programs (the Evening Salon and Evening Concert) for free. Bob Wilkinson, the station owner, was never willing to relinquish the 6-10 PM Monday through Friday time slot for anything other than classical music. While the chamber music and symphonies were on the air, I would listen to all kinds of great modern music on the other turntable.
Eventually, I was able to play whatever I wanted on a Friday evening program from 10 PM to 2 AM. Bob had a wonderful Jazz library and I usually devoted the last hour or two of the program to Jazz. I also substituted for Michael Muirhead quite a few times in the afternoon.
The studio was up the stairs at 1410 Pearl Street in Boulder across from a recording studio. Bob had a stormy relationship with the landlord as well as other business people in Boulder. After a plumbing incident that caused some damage to the hardware store below the studio, we moved to 1428 Pearl Street. This was a newly remodeled building. There was a night club on the top floor. KRNW was on the second floor. About a year or so after the move the station was sold to the KBCO people.
Some of the names of the other announcers were:
Kate Fortin (6-10 AM)
Dave Nettles (the Audio Radiance program)
Russ Mallot
Stan Rheaume
Michael Allbright (on air name was Michael Kow 2-6 AM)
Rick Schultz (went on to KHOW-FM in Denver during their brief foray in to Jazz)
Michael Muirhead (chief announcer)
The weekend people were:
Jason Sherman He was a manger of some kind at Tulagis (a Boulder night club)
Rick Stott He owned a business called Trade a Tape and Records in Boulder
Kenny Weissberg
I could come up with some interesting stories about all the wonderful people involved with KRNW. I also had my own moments of notoriety. Thanks for your efforts devoted to Free Form Radio. I am enclosing Bob Wilkinson’s obituary from several years ago. I don’t remember the person quoted in the obituary. He may have been the classical program announcer. It is possible I had a memory lapse. After all I was one of “those longhairs”.
Regards,
James Kellogg
krnw_wilkinson-obit.pdf
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