Month: February 1996

Reciprocity

2/23/1996

I witnessed the most extraordinary event last week at the Gavin convention in Atlanta.  (No, I’m not talking about the dancing ballerinas…although I must admit, they were extraordinary.) I’m talking about a casual conversation that took place in the lobby between a program director and a promotion executive.  The conversation crystallized the ongoing problems that occur in our business on an almost daily basis.

I was standing with the programmer of a major-market radio station when a promotion executive joined us.  We were waiting for an elevator.  Since the two had never met, I made the introductions.

After a handshake, the promotion executive smiled and said, “You know, you should be playing (artist’s name) on your station.”

The elevator doors opened, everyone said their “nice to see ya’s,” and the promotion executive disappeared into the sea of people going down.  (It’s a figure of speech…as in the elevator was going down…not the people in it.)

After the doors closed, the programmer turned to me and said, “Can you believe that?”

I looked around, positive that I had missed something.  “What?”

“I can’t believe I just got pimped on a record in the lobby.”

I stared at him for a long moment.  “Are you on crack?” I asked.

He assured me that he wasn’t…although the chances of him being under some sort of mind altering drug seemed evident after making that statement.

Really, can you imagine a record promotion person actually promoting a programmer on a record?  What a concept.  It could revolutionize our business!

Ladies and gentlemen…boys and girls…let me share a secret with you.  Record promotion people are paid rather large sums of money to accomplish one aim:  Promote records.

Surprised?

Welcome to the jungle.

I’ve written countless words about the relationships between programmers and promoters.  The message seems to have missed many in our business.

Programmers must understand one important point: Reciprocity.

If you ask for favors from record companies, you must expect a payback.  If you’ve never asked a promotion person for any type of favor…you may stop reading this Editorial.

It’s all well and good to joke and kid about the different kinds of relationships we have with our colleagues, but at the end of the day, it’s a business.  And you’re kidding yourself if you believe anything different.

Why shouldn’t a promotion person mention a record to a programmer?  It is their job…just as it is a programmer’s job to say “no” if the record isn’t right.  Many programmers are quick to pontificate about their radio station’s promotions, research or latest ratings.  Is it too much of a stretch to imagine a promotion person doing the same thing?

Many programmers succumb to the dreaded Ali disease.  You know, “I am the greatest.”  And who can really blame them?  Outside of members of Congress, is there any group that gets their asses kissed more than programmers?  And most deserve the love.  Most programmers serve in relative obscurity, work for slave wages and live with the fear of knowing they can be canned at the drop of a hat…or a rating point.  All this while promoters and artists make money and fame from the efforts of programmers…or at least from the effects of the effort.

So there is some measure of justification.  Record promotion people can wine and dine programmers…tell them they’re great…generally suck up to get on their good side so they can talk about records.  But programmers must understand that the hammer will fall.  Sooner or later, you will be asked about records.  Trust me.  As strange as that sounds, it will happen.

And it should happen.  That’s a promoter’s job.  If a promoter isn’t asking about a record, the promoter is in jeopardy of losing a job.

I’m not writing this Editorial to try and convince every programmer to talk to every promoter about every record.  In the exchange of style and substance, some people are going to connect where others don’t.  But the level of professionalism…or maybe the term is “oblivion”…has gotten a bit blurry.

All of us…those on the record side and those in radio…should strive to understand the jobs of the others. And that understanding should go to the wants and needs behind the job.  A programmer should never get angry at a promotion person for promoting a record.  It’s the nature of the beast.  Anything short of stalking is acceptable behavior in today’s pressure-packed promotion arena.

Programmers should react to the promotion in kind.  They should also understand that it is the job that is important…not the individual.  So you’re getting your ass kissed on a regular basis and you think you’re a king…you start believing you’re a genius.  Get a grip!  How did those rosy cheeks feel a couple of years ago when you were the night jock in Nowhere Land?  Or, more important, how much will your posterior miss those kisses when your current job ends?

Accept the good, the bad and all that goes with it.  If you ask others to accept the job you have to do and understand the pressures you must contend with, also show a little of the same understanding.

There was a time when I was Ali.  (Several times, as a matter of fact.)  And more times when I wasn’t!  When I was programming KFRC, the local Columbia person was Burt Baumgartner.  I remember one conversation rather clearly.

“Baumgartner,” I said, “I need 25 pairs of tickets to the Journey concert, backstage passes and two seats on the stage to give away.”

“Gerry,” Burt answered, “if I do this for you, what can I expect in return?”

“Bud, let me explain this in a way you’ll understand.  When I ask for something, you say yes.  When you ask for something, I say no.”

Times have changed.  But remember one phrase that has withstood the changing times and still works if you’re cornered in a lobby.

“It looks good for next week!”

Amen, Ahmet

2/16/1996

He was sitting in a chair, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees.  The spotlights illuminated the stage, casting the hundreds of people in the audience in the large convention room into darkness.  If he was bothered by the attention, you certainly couldn’t tell.  Politically incorrect, but turning it into the opposite by the mere fact that he did it, he lit a cigarette, took a sip of water and turned the big hall of strangers into a living room full of close friends.

“I was about 13 or 14 years old when I first went to New York.”  His gravelly voice cut through the microphone, causing the audience to move toward the edge of their seats…ears straining to pick up every word…eyes watching for the slightest nuance.  “They dropped me off at a movie theater by myself and promised to return in a couple of hours to pick me up.  I waited until they turned the corner, then hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to Harlem.”

The blonde sitting beside me nudged me hard in the ribs.  “Ain’t Ahmen cool?” she whispered in a hiss loud enough to be heard three rows back.

I acknowledged her with a nod.  I didn’t have the heart or desire to tell her his name wasn’t Ahmen.  It would have taken too long and she probably wouldn’t have cared one way or the other.  I had no idea who she was or why she was sitting in the first row, listening to Ahmet Ertegun, Co-Chairman and founder of Atlantic Records, as he was addressing an assembled multitude who had come to hear a sermon on the mount.

She was stunningly attractive in a bubblegum sort of way…short blonde hair teased as only women in the South can manage…rouge…bright red lipstick…long eyelashes and fake fingernails that matched the lips.  She was dressed in a vogue (whatever that is), see-through white top that tucked into a black dress with white polka-dots.  One dark nylon-encased leg crossed the other at the knee, rocking back and forth in time with the gum she kept popping in her teeth.

I felt the need to tell her to pay attention…to cherish the moment…that she was in the presence of a true legend…but she was too young to know or care.  But evidently not as naïve as I initially thought.  I would see her at the bar at two o’clock the next morning, having drinks with the man who was speaking.

The legend lives on.

“I wound up in a place similar to the Cotton Club sitting by one of the show girls.  I introduced myself to the band leader and they thought I was something.  Here I was, a young white boy, who knew as much about the music as those who were playing.  Hell, I had all their records.”

A quick time out for a puff, a sip of water and he continued with his story.  “After the show, they invited me back to a rent party at one of member’s apartments.  Someone was playing the piano, another singing, others joining in on assorted instruments and the next thing you know, I had a drink in my hand.”

He cleared his throat…not that it made any difference.  The rasp that is his voice was unaffected.  “I was getting hammered when one of the guys who knew my uncle came up and said, ‘What’s that in your hand?’  I informed him that it was scotch.  He told me drinking was bad for me, took the glass away and handed me a reefer.”

The crowd roared, giving him time to light another smoke.

In an industry quick to hang the mantle of “legend” on almost anyone who has a couple of good ratings books or signs a hit act, Ahmet Ertegun redefines the term.

To put in perspective, when compared against his accomplishments, the rest pale in comparison.  Forget pale…become invisible.

So you’ve signed a couple of acts who’ve sold a few million records…and think you’re happening? Get over it.

Ahmet found acts who became so famous they’re known universally by their first names.  Like Otis and Aretha.

While others mined the caves of New York (the ones he had already stripped), he discovered Muscle Shoals and made it legendary with recordings by Wilson Pickett and Percy Sledge.

Is there another person who could make this statement:  “The only two people who could be described by the term ‘genius’ in the 20th century are Louie Armstrong and Pablo Picasso.  Everything anyone has done since in music or art they got, in part, from the influence of these two.”  Louie and Pablo…only Ahmet could pull that off.

Ahmet is  truly one of a kind.  He’s done it all…with a passion and style unmatched in our business.  And, he had fun doing it.

You know what else? He still does.

Here’s a guy who almost lived with Mick Jagger for a year-and-a-half to get The Rolling Stones on Atlantic Records, then once the deal was done, he laughingly told Mick not to call him anymore…he had his name on the contract.

Here’s a guy whose diverse musical tastes allowed him to sign Ray Charles and Led Zepplin.  Talk about a reach!

It’s all well and good to memorialize his accomplishments, but as Ahmet is quick to point out, he ain’t done yet.  Ask him how old he is and he’ll tell you time is immaterial.  It’s not where you’ve been, but where you’re going.

Young at heart? You bet.  And in the flesh.  A lot of people decades younger than Ahmet were left bruised and battered in his wake in Atlanta.  You think he needs that cane to walk?  Not a chance.  It’s to shove aside the fallen bodies as he makes his way to another mystical place that is changed from the ordinary by his mere presence.

Ahmet Ertegun is epitomized by the company he founded…a company that defines diversity in Alternative, Rhythm & Blues, Rock, Rap, Jazz, Classical, Pop and everything in between.  It’s all music to Ahmet.

It is impossible to describe Ahmet Ertegun in ordinary terms because he isn’t an ordinary person.  His accomplishments are certainly extraordinary.  Yet, the very thing that makes Ahmet special is that he is ordinary in the most exquisite sense of the word.  He loves music.  From a listener’s perspective, not as an icon.  He’s a fan.

To know him is to love him.  To know him is to learn from him.

We should all be so lucky.

Ahmet Ertegun.  He’s so cool.

Book Review

2/2/1996 

One of the more interesting interviews you’ll read…and an interview that directly affects your livelihood is in this issue of Network 40. Pierre Bouvard, General Manager of Arbitron, gives his thoughts and answers questions that can help you do your job better.  A PD or MD can learn how to best program a radio station to achieve accurate ratings through the Arbitron methodology.  A promotion person can better understand a programmer’s needs in relation to the dreaded “ratings.”  As a programmer, I have felt the sting of Arbitron’s methodology.  That bad boy bites!

Mr. Bouvard makes some interesting points in his interview.  Whether you agree or disagree with some of his positions, one thing is certain:  Since his appointment as GM of the company, Arbitron has seemed to be more attentive to the needs of radio.  Many radio executives many question the end result of their discussions with Arbitron, but none can say that Arbitron doesn’t give radio a fair hearing.

Mr. Bouvard points out that bad radio makes for bad ratings.  An oversimplification, to say the least, but somewhat true, nonetheless.  If you have a radio station that is programmed correctly and aggressively, you’ll have more good books than bad.  However, Mr. Bouvard is fooling himself if he believes that just programming a successful radio station will generate a substantial gain in a ratings books.

Although Arbitron methodology shouldn’t be the primary focus in adding records, planning promotions and setting up format clocks, you certainly must take that methodology into consideration.  Programming “across the quarter-hours” may be an old wives’ tale to Mr. Bouvard, but as a piece of the pie. It always seemed to work.

A good PD will program a radio station to the audience through the methodology or Arbitron.

Why? Why not?

It certainly doesn’t hurt and, if only as a further attention to detail, it can and does help.

If you are going to be judged, not by how your station sounds but how well you do in the books of Arbitron, you have to play by those rules.  Arbitron uses certain techniques to get listeners to respond to a survey.  Make sure you’re aware of those techniques and use them yourself. 

Since Arbitron uses a recall method, it is extremely important that you ingrain in your listeners the “favorite” flavor.  By constant repetition, your listeners should be convinced that your station is their favorite.  It can’t be stated enough.

Contests and promotions should always have something similar to, What’s your favorite station?” as an integral part.  Force your listeners to identify your call letters as their favorite station.  Perceptions is reality.  Fool around all you want to with “The #1 Hit Music Station,” “Your Concert Connection,” or other slug-lines, but in recall methodology, the answer to “What’s your favorite radio station?” is going to win every time.

Since Arbitron asks participants to write down their listening habits, you should use this same methodology in contests.  On-going promotions that force your audience to listen over a period of time (like Cash Call, High-low, etc.) should be reinforced with the slogan, “Write it down.”

This is not to say that every contest you air should be tagged with that phrase, but having your listeners…and particularly the contest pigs and others who participate regularly in promotions…reinforced with the suggestions to “write it down” can only be a benefit.  Those who don’t play contests won’t be offended and those who do will be reminded.  If a diary falls into one of these households, you’re sure to benefit.

Any promotions that increase specific listening (such as those mentioned above) must be a consistent part of your promotional campaign.  Too often, we become “too hip for the room.”  It’s fine to be hip, but promotions should be aimed at the least common denominator.  The hip and cool people probably won’t participate in an Arbitron survey; they’re too busy.  It’s those nerds who have no life other than their radio that will make your ratings go up.

Mr. Bouvard makes a very interesting supposition in the interview when he says that people don’t recall exactly what times they listen.  Even the GM of Arbitron admits that the results are a basically a “guesstimate.”  So Arbitron isn’t exactly accurate?

Hold the presses.  We’ve got a news flash!

There is no doubt that Arbitron’s methodology in determining ratings is suspect at best and a cruel joke at worst.  Radio has known his forever.  We have criticized Arbitron for their methodology, techniques, samples and returns since the first bad book. However, the joke is on us.

Why? Because radio hasn’t come up with a viable, economical alternative.

We’ve had some experiments with alternative ratings.  Direct phone calls are infinitely more accurate in determining at-home listening.  When you call and ask someone, “What station are you listening to right now?” you’ll usually get an accurate answer.  But when a respondent is questioned about previous listening habits, we’re back to the same old horse…just a different color.  And there’s no way to get an accurate account of those listening at work (who’s going to risk the wrath of their boss to participate in a radio survey at work?) or in automobiles.

People meters are the next step.  These “beepers” fit on a respondent’s belt or inside a purse and measure the frequencies each person is exposed to over a given day.  These would be extremely accurate, but also extremely expensive.  Will radio pick up the additional tab for a supposedly more accurate survey?  Radio already questions the amount charged by Arbitron.

So what’s a mother do to?  Get into TV, where the entire nationwide audience of over 200 million people is determined by 200 households?

Face it:  Radio programmers are stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Your future is often determined by an inadequate system that is often inaccurate.  Most GMs discount the importance of Arbitron…until the book comes out.

You can work hard, spend hours on music computers, research and contests.  You can wear yourself out by programming through Arbitron’s methodology and still get killed by a bad drop.

Good thing there’s another avenue available for your consideration.

Grammytical

3/1/1996 

I like to dress up and have a good time.

Is that line from a song?  Or is it just a state of mind during Grammy week in Los Angeles?

With all due respect to New York, there’s no business like show business in Los Angeles.

Besides, we’re feeling pretty good about ourselves right now.  Magic is back, the Lakers are making a run and it’s Showtime again at the Forum.  The Dodgers are talking the talk as they prepare to win their division.  Disney bought the Angels, so they’re bound to improve.  We don’t have a professional football franchise, so we’re able to see the best games on television.  We haven’t had a really good mud slide in over a year, no fires to speak of and not a measurable earthquake (that’s anything over a 4.0 for those of us who live here) since 1994.  Housing prices are moving up and O.J. hasn’t called a local radio station in over a week.

It’s Grammy week.

I love L.A.

And I especially love L.A. during Grammy week. It’s the one time of the year in this entertainment town that the record and radio businesses gets to pretend we’re more important than the motion picture industry.  In the long run, we fail, of course, but for one brief moment in time we can ask the question: “Did you do it for love…did you do it for money…did you do it for spite…or did you have to, honey?”  (That’s an oblique reference to The Eagles, for those of you who are a little slow.)  And just in case you’re wondering, I always do it for spite.

Those of you who live in New York don’t quite understand us out here on the Left Coast.  See, we don’t dress up a lot.  You people will squeeze into a tuxedo or evening dress at the drop of an invitation.  Not so us.  It’s got to be special. 

And the Grammys are special.

It’s not just the Grammy presentation.  It’s the total experience.  Like going to a state fair, it’s fun to see the main tent, but the sideshows supply the real action.

And a sate fair doesn’t hold a candle to Los Angeles during Grammy week.  You think you’ve seen the world’s fattest man, the tattooed lady, the piercing Queen, the transvestites, the sword swallowers, the fire-eaters, the freaks, the jugglers and clowns that all did tricks for you?  Honey, come down to Hollywood.  You ain’t seen nothing yet!

The action begins long before Grammy week.  Things begin to get tense when the invitations are sent out.  God forbid if you aren’t invited to one of the parties.  It’s a social faux pas worse than brown shoes with a tux.  It starts when one of your colleagues asks if you’ve gotten an invitation to a certain party.  If you haven’t, the politicking begins in earnest.  You start by calling everyone you know at the company, wondering why you haven’t received your invitation.  They, of course, lie and say they’re sure you’re on the list.  The invitation must be the mail.

You, of course, don’t believe them for a second.  So you begin asking others with more juice to help you out.  They, of course, lie and tell you they’ll get right on it.  You’re left out in the cold.

But, if you’re smart, you can scam your way in.  Just find out others who are invited to the parties you want to attend.  Leave the awards early and stop by the party.  Use their name.  The people checking the lists are not heavy enough to garner an invite themselves, hence, they have no idea what the real person looks like.  You’re never asked for an I.D. And no one is really hurt.  When the “real” people get there, they can prove who they are by showing an I.D.  They’ll get in (after a hassle) and you’ll already be drinking champagne at the bar.

Next to arrive are your actual Grammy tickets.  You quickly break open the envelope and check your seating.  The tickets probably suck.  But it’s hard to bitch.  They’re supplied by a record company.  (Does anybody other than record companies actually pay for these things?)  If you were at a major market last year, and this year you’re in a smaller city, look for your tickets to be further from the stage.  If you’re in radio and you get your tickets early, you’ve got a chance at moving closer.  It depends on the records you add.  Hold out for the prime locations.

The first party is the biggest record company party of the year.  It’s Clive’s party at the Beverly Hills Hotel.  You haven’t truly arrived until you’re invited to Clive’s party.  And trying to get an invitation is almost impossible.  You’ve got a better shot at front-row Grammy tickets than getting on Clive’s list.

Clive’s party happens the night before the Grammys.  Appropriate.  Most believe it’s more important.  And it’s Black Tie.  Now the Grammys are Black Tie as well, but Black Tie in L.A. means anything from a tux to spangled denim jackets with cowboy boots and spurs.  Not so with Clive’s invitation.  Better have the tux or be ready to get embarrassed.

Then we finally get to the Grammys.  The most important part of the Grammys is your arrival.  You must, of course, have a limo.  Anything less is of the lowest order…or either ultra-cool.  You have to be pretty confident of yourself to pull up in your own car.  Since almost nobody in our business has that confidence, the only people who drive their own cars are those who can’t afford a limo.  Take out a loan.  In this town, the bank will understand.

After you get inside the Shrine Auditorium, you must locate your seat.  This is very important because you must determine who has better seats than you.  That’s the only real reason for going to the awards.  You must be able to silently gloat about having better seats than your rivals or smilingly seethe over seating you deem inappropriate.  You’ll do both.  There are enough people over you and under you to have you completely confused.

Veteran Grammy-goers leave their seats right after the opening ceremony.  The lobby provides the perfect setting for the ultimate schmooze-fest.  There you can brush against the titans of your industry and they can pretend they think you’re important…if only until someone more important enters their peripheral.

And don’t forget to leave the ceremonies early.  You have to clear out before the people you’re impersonating later.  It’s the only way you’ll get into the parties.