Month: July 1994

Why?

7/29/1994

I was reminded of one of my favorite Blues tunes yesterday. The lyrics came to mind during a phone call from Danny Buch of Atlantic Records. Danny was sharing his excitement about an idea that had blossomed into a great promotion for his company.

After commuting into New York City for who-knows-how-many years, Danny finally had enough of the silence he endured going through the Holland Tunnel. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the drive from New Jersey into the city, if you don’t go through the Holland Tunnel, you ain’t gonna get there. (Unless you go way north over the George Washington Bridge, but that another story, another promotion and another Editorial.) Anyhow, that trip through the tunnel can take anywhere from two to twenty minutes during a regular commute. More, of course, if there is an accident. And while you’re in the tube, you can’t hear anything. It’s like being underwater. You’re cut off from all communication with the outside world. Forget your radio. Forget your mobile phone. For those few minutes, you’re all alone with your thoughts. And for many people, especially New Yorkers, that can be a very scary feeling.

So Danny started playing, “What if?” and came up with some startling ideas. “What if we could somehow play music (Atlantic product, of course) to the people in the cars?” How could that happen? The tunnel shut out all forms of communication, didn’t it? Maybe…maybe not.

Danny had seen all the signs near airports instructing motorists to tune to a certain AM channel for traffic instructions. He wondered, “What if we could do the same thing in and around the Holland Tunnel? Impossible, right?

Danny checked it out and found that he could operate AM transmitters that broadcast in a very restricted area. If the transmitters operated at less than 1/10th of a watt (about ¼ of a mile in reach), the FCC had no jurisdiction. That meant no license to contend with, no rules and regulations to follow and, most important, no format restrictions.

Atlantic purchased the transmitters and produced tapes of their artists. This week, it’s B Tribe. Next week? Another artist. Sexy-voiced Sr. VP Promotion Andrea Ganis announces the song and the artist on the “station” and advises listeners where they can buy the CD at the lowest possibly price.

Atlantic promotion people swarmed the sidewalks on each side of the tunnel wearing sandwich boards advertising commuters to “Tune Your Radio To AM 1510 For Music And Money.” In the future, Atlantic plans to run contests giving away cash and prizes. Listeners will be told to go to specific retail outlets, buy the CD and possibly win thousands of dollars in cash.

Nearly two million people travel through the Holland Tunnel every day. Out of that two million, I’m sure there are many who work for companies that would benefit by some form of advertising to the rest of the moles. When the sandwich boards went up and the transmitters went on, the majority of those two million commuters said, “Holy Cow, why didn’t I think of that?”

It’s a fantastic promotion aimed at the primary, music-buying demographic sought by most advertisers. A cume-building monster. Forget quarter-hour increases, this locks your audience for tunnel time!

It’s designed for radio. It’s on radio. And a radio programmer didn’t think of it. Why?

That makes me want to puke.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m taking nothing away from Atlantic Records. As connected to radio as they are, Danny and Andrea could probably out program half the PDs out there anyhow.

This just points out how sometimes pointless radio can be to the listening public.

Network Forty, countless conventions, newspapers, newscasts and town criers have warned of the impending communications gridlock on the superhighway. With more and more outlets from which to choose, listeners will be tempted to abandon commercial radio. But that isn’t radio’s biggest problem. Radio’s biggest problem is radio. Why is there no creativity that used to make our medium exciting? Why are there no great promotions designed to stimulate the audience?

They ain’t here no more. Why? Because most programmers aren’t up to the task.

Most programmers spend too much time behind a music computer making sure the flow is right. Here’s a news flash: Why not design the format, define the rules and insist that the air personalities adhere to those rules? Give them the opportunity to create their own music flow within the format. If they can’t do it, find others who can.

Most PDs spend too much time in focus groups. Why? With all due respect, f you don’t inherently know who your audience is and what music they like, find another line of work.

Why can’t you make your station exciting? Stop spending so much time researching your audience. Spend more time on developing a market through exciting promotions.

What happened to innovation? Excitement? The guts to do something so off-the-wall that it attracts listeners to your attitude…not your 10-in-a-row format that anyone and everyone can duplicate? More and more, the audience is identifying with that attitude. Music and formatics are important, but with music crossing formatic barriers with listener impunity, you have to do more to make your station stand out from the rest.

What will make the difference? Your talent.

Basically, every Top 40 plays the same hits; what should set a station apart is an aggressive and entertaining promotional presence…a presence that can only be found in the theatre-of-the-mind. Imagine WNCI packing four listeners in a “B.O. Sphere” car or KQHT’s “Turkey Bungee Jumping.” Why are stations such as KROQ, KRBE and KDWB regularly featured on our Promotions Page? Because too many Top 40s simply give away cash and concert tickets to the umpteenth caller.

Why?

Because as a program director, you’re spending too much time on other things that aren’t as important. Or because you just aren’t good enough.

Oh year. The name of the song? Delbert McClinton’s “Why? Why? Why?”

You had to ask?

Conclave

7/25/1994

The largest contingent of radio and record people in the country got together last week in Fargo, North Dakota. That should have been the tip-off. We were al supposed to be in Minneapolis. But such are the stories that make the Conclave what it is. Don’t press me on an exact definition.

But, there we were. In Fargo. On the taxi-way. Waiting for the weather in Minneapolis to break. Planes and people from all points west. Los Angeles…San Francisco…San Diego. In Fargo. In the rain. In a plane. What a pain!

I could look out the window and wave to Dave Sholin. He was in another plane. On the same runway. Waiting. Like me, not happy. Unlike me, he wasn’t as vocal about it.

This story will tell you a thing or two about the Conclave and the people who attend. There is a point and I will get to it…eventually. On my flight, among other luminaries, was Laura Henson of Island. I didn’t know Laura very well when we boarded. After Fargo, I feel she is one of my closest friends. Three hours in Fargo does, after all, seem like a lifetime.

Our plane was due to arrive in Minneapolis at five o’clock. After the thunderstorms, tornadoes, hail, fire and brimstone closed the airport, we were informed that our flight wouldn’t touch down in the Twin Cities until ten-thirty. This is five-and-a-half hours after our scheduled arrival. Both of us were being met by radio programmers. During our sojourn in Fargo, after the second (or was it the third?) double-vodka, we figured that our rides had long since given up hope that we would be arriving within a reasonable waiting period and had returned home. We would be left to fend for ourselves.

Not that we were nervous about it. Minneapolis, though quite off the path beaten to death by all of us in the business, still provided taxis. I was sure of it. Not positive, mind you, but pretty sure. Rumor had it.

Anyhow, we decided to share a cab once the plane landed. Of course, that was assuming we would ever leave Fargo. And we did. Eventually. We landed in the Twin Cities at ten-forty-five.

So what’s the point?

The radio people who promised to meet us were there waiting. Both of them. Smiling.

Tell the truth. Have any of you reading this ever waited for over five hours at the airport to pick up anyone other than a close family member? Don’t even think about it. You know you haven’t. But that’s the Conclave. And the people who attend it. And, I guess, the people of the Midwest in general.

My only question is are they really this nice or is Minneapolis so boring that waiting at the airport is more exciting than just about anything else there is to do?

The answer is yes. The face it, they really are and it really is.

So why go to the Conclave? Hey, for one thing, we’ve had about a convention a month this year and I wanted to make sure Network Forty was represented at all of them. No matter where I had to travel. Besides, the Conclave is fun…sort of. The people are nice. And it is the only place that you can really sit down, meet new faces and have a dialogue that is meaningful. If only you didn’t have to fly Northwest.

Minneapolis is a trip in itself. Full of very white people who breathe through their mouths and have a lot of space between their eyes. And their teeth. My kind of folks.

The Conclave has meetings that begin at nine in the morning. And they’re full. What’s wrong with this picture?

Minneapolis has to be the only major city in the country where the O.J. Simpson trial wasn’t the main topic of conversation, thank God. Actually, there wasn’t a main topic of conversation. Come to think of it, there wasn’t a lot of conversation, either.

But where else can you drink for two hours with 12 guys at the bar and the tab comes to $55? The biggest rumor at the Conclave was that TGI Fridays was closing. Steve Leavitt usually hosts a dinner for radio people there and this year he didn’t make it. That caused a lot of forlorn faces. Mark Gorlick more than made up for it, however, and in the process spoiled a lot of programmers with the MCA dinner at Ruth’s Criss. That TGI Fridays ruse won’t work next time, Leavitt.

The Conclave is a little quirky. It reminds me of Ocean Spray cocktails. They both mix odd combinations of fruits. At first glance, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but once you experience it in total, it’s tangerine!

Where else could you find a panel that consisted of legendary programmer Paul Drew and soon-to-be-legendary Jerry Clifton? It was 20 years ago this summer when Drew pulled Clifton from oblivion and hired him to program the RKO station in New York City. Drew asked me to spend some time with Jerry to teach him the RKO way. WE both got dead drunk. I would like to take credit for teaching Clifton a thing or two, but I honestly think he already knew how to drink.

And where else could you find me agreeing with Joel Denver? (Almost. About monitored airplay. In a meeting hosted by Dave Sholin. What can I say? I got confused. It happens in meetings with Sholin.) I just feel that in many cases, the record industry is placing importance on radio stations for the wrong reasons. All to often, a stations becomes important because it is monitored…not because of an aggressive music policy or because it sells records. It reminds me of the Parallel System the industry fought so hard to lose. We should be careful to judge each radio station’s worth on individual merits. Not because of ordained status.

Hey, it’s just my opinion.

As at just about every convention, some of the panels went too long and some of the speakers were a bit boring. I even left my panel early, so I can’t blame everybody else. But taken as a whole, the Conclave remains unique among all conventions. Unique enough that I’ll go back next year and give it another shot.

Maybe they should hold it in Fargo!

Additives

7/22/1994

An uneasy alliance has been formed between the record and radio communities. It’s an alliance most won’t speak about out loud and some don’t even know exists. But it is a situation that grow more interesting with each passing week.

We’re talking plays…spins…spikes. Versus adds.

Interesting.

It wasn’t so very long ago that adds were all that mattered. Adds were phat, parallel status was where it was at and a chart could be rigged at the drop of a hat. At the very least, several dozen CD players. Or maybe a late Tuesday afternoon promise of a trip to Hawaii (which one Sr. VP of Promotion still owes me!)

There was a time when promotion people pushed hard for the add. Not that they don’t still push hard today, but airplay is the key.

I’ve heard statements recently that were never thought about six months ago. “I don’t care whether or not he adds it as long as he plays it. “ “I don’t want to push to hard for the add. He’s already playing it and I don’t want to scare him off.” Those are a couple that are in power rotation.

Maybe the entire process needs to be analyzed more thoughtfully. So often, the needs of both records and radio are served by the same purpose. And yet, many times, both industries seem to go out of the way to work against the process, rather than work together to accomplish that goal.

By and large, record companies have the ability to establish the ground rules of competition. Let’s face it, it wasn’t radio that created the parallel system. And if the system wasn’t exactly created by record companies, most welcomed it as a way to best serve their needs. With promotions and attention, record companies determine who and what is important.

It was the record industry that fostered adds. It was the way they kept score. It was how we found out who were the winners and losers. Under the parallel system, how many stations were on a record was all-important. How many times the record was played wasn’t a big consideration. Few in the record companies made it a priority, so at first, few ver asked. But soon, unfortunately, another practice became common. Because record companies needed a way to keep score and because adds were applauded like touchdowns, getting that add became all-important. So important, in some cases, that airplay wasn’t even mentioned. Many times, airplay wasn’t requested. Occasionally, it was suggested to programmers that airplay wasn’t even wanted. Just the add.

The system became more and more perverse.

A funny thing began to happen on this yellow brick road to terminal bliss. Many records that were most added weren’t hits. Not that there was anything wrong with that. I mean, who really knows what records are hits until they are exposed to the public? So, having a record that was most added not become a hit wasn’t catastrophic. In some instances, it was advantageous. At least you found out whether or not you had a hit relatively quickly.

That’s when funnier things began happening. Records that were getting a lot of adds weren’t getting a lot of play. The records weren’t becoming hits because the audience didn’t hear them. That wasn’t right.

Records that shipped Gold returned Platinum.

The practice eventually led to the downfall of the parallel system and, in a parallel move, to the downfall of those who promoted it. Record companies went “Back To The Future” to determine what made a hit. The bottom line is the bottom line: If it sells, it’s a hit. If it doesn’t, it isn’t.

We always knew that, but over time the words got in the way and our priorities were a little out of whack.

Suddenly, almost without warning, faster than you could say, “Plays Per Week and BDS,” the rules changed. The parallel system and the coveted award of “Most Added” began gathering dust. Neither was important any longer. Today, airplay rules. Whether or not a radio station officially adds a record is becoming a moot point. It is the airplay that matters.

Some programmers want to hold on to the power of official adds. It gives them the opportunity to test records without getting pressure from the record companies to add a specific record into a weekly rotation.

That power is a wisp of smoke.

Programmers have to place to hide. With the advent of Plays Per Week, BDS and honest reporting, record companies know what records are getting airplay…even by daypart. Who are we trying to fool by testing records during the week and not adding them?

Of course, there is a flip side. (Isn’t there always?) If record companies don’t care about official adds, then pressure for additional plays should be carefully guarded. If programmers are going to let what they play be their official list (and those in monitored markets don’t have a choice), then record companies must allow the programmers to experiment with records in various degrees. Playing certain records only in morning drive, adding others in a night rotation and spiking some sporadically throughout the week are ways for radio to research a specific record’s strength. Record companies must understand that a test is just that: a test. If a station is testing a record, record companies must have patience to work with the station. Screaming for increased rotations before the testing is complete can only hurt the record company’s relationships in the future. And it won’t do the tested record a lot of good either.

Record companies must understand that this type of honesty opens up other cans of worms. Sometimes a radio station will play a record only five or six times, then drop it from airplay the following week. Record companies must be ready to argue unemotionally for re-testing or increased rotations. It will sometimes make the job more difficult, but it is the way we will all be doing business in the future.

Both industries are after the same end. Both want to find out what records are hits. How we get to that end is what makes us different. Most record companies are concentrating on plays and spins, not adds. Radio stations should do the same.

O.J.

7/8/1994

I opened up this morning’s L.A. Times and was stunned. For the first time since the crime, there was nothing on the front page about O.J. Simpson. This was, of course, the Tuesday after a long 4th of July holiday. The Los Angeles press had written just about everything there was to right or wrong about anybody and everything connected. So I suppose the L.A. Times could be forgiven. They finally ran out of ink. If only for a day.

I feel confident that my O.J. jones will be fixed with the resumption of the hearing. I’m sure the L.A. Times will find headlines for the rest of this week’s editions. It is, after all, an editor’s dream. Not enough real news for the front page? Drop in some more O.J. Need filler for page 10? Drop in some O.J. Running short in the Sports Section? How about some pictures of O.J. in a football uniform?

And television? They can’t get enough O.J. You have every anchor at every channel doing a stand-up from the crime scene with their special “input” and spin. I drove by the Juice’s house this weekend. The police won’t let most civilians get near the gates. It’s not because they’re afraid of spoiling the crime scene. It’s because there is so much traffic from news reporters that other cars would cause gridlock. My fault. I forget to check the O.J. traffic reports on cable O.J.T.V.

And the captions sound like Hard Copy at its best. “Limo driver lives with mother.” (What a cad!) “Kato is an actor/writer who pays no rent.” (That’s a scoop in Hollywood?) “O.J. put his own bags in the trunk.” (Unbelievable.)

Between print and video, we’ve seen just about every stone turned. (Except Mick and the boys. Their new album isn’t due for another week!) Each medium regurgitates daily, hourly, even minute-by-minute accounts of the nothing that is sometimes happening. There’s even coverage on the coverage. Imagine, the reporting of the news is becoming a bigger story.

So what does a Contemporary Music radio station do when a story of this magnitude breaks?

Most of them take gas.

Years ago, some idiot read a piece of research upside down and became convinced that the audience of a Top 40 radio station was not interested in news. Under the guise of research, news was removed from most Top 40 stations. It remains an endangered species today.

It wasn’t research that killed news. It was budget cuts. Was this right? In a perfect world, no. Was it necessary? In most cases, yes.

It is a fact that the majority of listeners don’t want to hear a lot of news. (They also don’t want to hear commercials, but we manage to run the anyhow.) A case can be made for updating the listeners hourly…particularly in the morning and afternoon hours. Noon wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

Does anyone reading this believe your audience would tune out for a one-minute news update? Rephrase your research questions. Ask it again and get back to me.

Music radio does not operate in a vacuum. Our listeners are in touch with more than just music. We must be in touch with all things of interest to them.

It is important to have a semi-literate news person on your staff for several reasons. Three really stand out:

First, someone from your station must be in daily contact with news sources (police, fire, etc.) so when a big story breaks (and sooner or later, one always does), you will have someone familiar to the sources so your station can gain information. You won’t get anything from anyone if they aren’t already familiar with you.

Second, news should be a regular part of your programming so your audience will feel secure in the knowledge that if something does happen, they will hear about it on your station. Why give them a reason to tune out to get the latest news. Give it to them in 60 seconds. Like a quick dose of medicine. They know it’s good for them. Then they’ll feel safe knowing that if the world does come to an end, they’ll hear about it on your station right after the newest release by Pearl Jam.

Third, you’ll have someone to do those terrible public service interviews required by the FCC. (Hey, this is reason enough to hire a college graduate holding a broadcast degree with no hope of employment anywhere else!)

And when there is a breaking story, make your station a part of it…in news as well as promotions. A Top 40 radio station cannot connect with every breaking news story. But as a program director, you should be acutely aware of the stories that capture the attention of your listeners.

Right after Simpson’s judge revealed the mysterious evidence in a manila folder, your stations should have been giving away manila folders with something secret inside.

You should also have your air talent connecting with the drama. I’m not talking liners; I’m talking about being a part of it.

Having a morning talent like Rick Dees giving afternoon updates on the O.J. Simpson trial would be great theatre. It adds an element that no other station could match.

Making your morning talent part of the story (and conversely, your afternoon talent part of the morning updates) connects them with the listeners in a positive way. Your audience hears your air talent introducing and talking about songs and entertainment facts. Putting them in the middle of an important news event makes them sound more connected and knowledgeable. Your audience might even start to trust them. And believe them. And listen to them more.

It’s one thing to comment on the story as an interested observer, but it is important to actually be a part of it. By giving the audience information “from the scene” or from a source makes the audience think your talent is special.

“Did you hear what Rick Dees said about the trial?” is a lot more relatable than, “Did you hear what Channel 4 said?” If your talent is a part of the reporting, they also must become a part of the story.

There is another, more diabolical reason to have your morning talent (or any other jock that occasionally lets his ego get in the way) reporting some news stories. The next time he ticks you off, send him to the ghetto to cover those riots up close and personal.

And make sure he doesn’t forget the phrase that pays: “Don’t lose ’em, news ’em!”

Poe-try

7/1/1994

It is the only true sign that summer is upon us. Forge the rising mercury…the afternoon thunderstorms…the mini-skirts…thongs…baseball…vacation plans and the drop-tops moving down the main drag. The question that truly puts an end to spring while marking the beginning of the dog days…the six words that put it all into perspective: “Are you going to the Poe?”

For nearly a quarter-century, Bobby Poe has held his convention in Virginia. This includes his attempts to move the thang to Atlanta. A lot of slick operators convinced Bobby that he should go big-time and take his convention to a larger, more centrally located city. They said it would be better. Attract more people. Make more money.

They were wrong.

The Poe just doesn’t play in convenient surroundings. You can’t just drop in. You have to want to go.

How did this all come about? Why are we arguing the value of conventions? To understand the phenomenon of the Bobby Poe convention, you must go back in history. It just so happens that 23 years ago, Bobby decided to invite a bunch of his friends down for a gathering.

Because that’s what it was. And that’s what it always has been. A gathering of friends.

In the beginning, it was the Bobby Poe Convention. That didn’t fit. It became, simply, the Poe. And it was good. It has endured the test of time. It’s kind of like the Masters. Well, maybe not.

Those who are quick to condemn the Poe because “nothing is ever accomplished” should have to file a report on the major accomplishments at other conventions. Has anyone ever stood up during the middle of a panel discussion anywhere and said, “I understand. I have been wrong. I have seen the light. I will change my ways beginning first thing tomorrow?”

Conventions, all conventions, are more often judged today on what they don’t accomplish. And most don’t accomplish a lot.

Where the Poe differs from the others is that it never promised a lot in the first place.

It wasn’t so very long ago that there were only two conventions a year: Gavin on the West Coast and the Poe back East. Now, it seems like there is a convention every third week or so for something. I mean, are we gathering next week in New York for the New Music Convention or are we massing for a Conclave in Minneapolis? Or is there a video deal in Miami or that computer interaction in Las Vegas? Maybe it’s a Dance thing in New Jersey, or a Blues forum in Memphis or a Jazz-t-thon in New Orleans.

And who is speaking at these things? President Clinton? Tipper Gore? The head of the FCC?

Who cares?

The Poe has always been special. It wasn’t who was speaking, but who was there. It wasn’t who was on the panels, but who was hanging in the halls. It was then, and it is today, a long weekend hang with no pressure. I gave us all the time to get to know others in the business.

Oh, there was a time when the Poe was a rite of passage. You hadn’t grown up in radio or records until you had experienced your first Poe.

Who can forget the nude couple who descended on the escalator at two o’clock in the morning while being egged on to greater exhibitions by a crowd of revelers? Or the time the breakfast meetings were cancelled and the bars opened at 7 am? What happened to the hookers who roamed the halls and the aging beauties in evening gowns who attended the gala cocktail party?

And the Poe always brought out the best characters. Was that Bill Drake holding court in the bar? Buzz Bennett spending the night in the elevator? John Fagot with the pig’s head? Long John challenging somebody…anybody to a fight. There’s Scott Shannon saying he doesn’t know anything about ratings except how to make them go up. Didn’t Bob Wilson get invited early in the launch of R&R? He did have a few drinks and tried to play guitar with a local band. I know, because I was with him. And the ghost of John Long lives at every Poe with the sightings of a chubby streaker chugging through the lobby with a lighted tail of toilet paper stringing behind. Was a winner ever determined in those fire extinguisher Olympics? What about the MD who was found in the grocery store shopping in her nightgown? And can anyone forget Jim Davenport, who always brought an excuse from his wife allowing him to fool around “just a little?”

And before you start complaining that it’s all about the good old days, it was only last year when two label executives got into a screaming match in the hotel lobby, innocent comments made in two panel discussions made headlines (and problems for the individuals) and the boa made his first appearance.

Long before it became fashionable, Bobby started a golf tournament. Why? Because some people wanted to play. That’s all it takes at the Poe. Why are you doing that? Because someone wanted to do that. It’s that simple.

Pretense? There’s none at the Poe. The most egotistical radio or record person will eventually be brought down in flames. That bar is a nasty place for phonies, especially after midnight.

So what if Bobby nominates everybody for everything? So does Gavin. And who wasn’t proud when they won? Those who have given an acceptance speech at one Poe or another read like a Who’s Who of the radio and record industries.

Maybe there aren’t quite as many people who attend as before. The truth is that there aren’t as many people in our business as before. Real people. The Poe still draws more than those regional or specialized deals that pop up in other places.

In a couple of years, we’ll be celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Poe and many feel it may be the last. If that happens, I’ve got a feeling we’ll miss the camaraderie and the good times. We’ll miss the opportunity to make complete and total fools of ourselves without any repercussions because we can blame it on the Poe.

I’ll certainly miss the longest running industry poker game in history. And since I’m down a couple of dollars, I’ve got only one thing to say to those of you who want to be critical of the Poe:

Shut up and deal.