Author: gerry

Foul Air

5/24/1996

I recently received a brochure via fax extolling the virtues of “Fair Air”.  I glanced at the information briefly before picking up the phone and calling Jonas Cash.  I was sure it was a spin-off on the A.I.R. competition.  I was wrong.  This new entity has no connection with A.I.R. unless you, like me, confuse the two because of the similarity of the names.

“Fair Air,” fronted by former record executive John Brodie and former programmer Jeff Wyatt, proposes a new way of doing promotion.  In meetings with various record companies and radio stations in the past few months, the two have laid out a plan to change the way we have been doing business.

In a nutshell, “Fair Air” works like this:  Programmers who agree to participate hook into the “Fair Air” computer system.  Each week there is a list of records for a programmer’s consideration.  A programmer guesses where the record will peak on the national sales chart.  Depending upon the programmer’s acumen, he/she is rewarded in a competition with other participants.  (Sound familiar?)

If the programmer chooses to listen to a particular record and fill out an electronic “questionnaire” that is e-mailed to the respective record company, the programmer will receive three dollars from the record company.

Should a programmer air one of these records, the radio station would receive between $200 and $600 from the record company for this one spin, depending on market size.  The programmer would also be obligated to e-mail the record company with all the results of the research generated from this one spin.

So what’s wrong with this picture?  In my opinion, the fish are in the trees!

First of all, it opens up a legal can of worms.  In the brochure, “Fair Air” even mentions the payola scandal that rocked our industry and vows a completely legal way of doing business.  Maybe.  But I have some questions.  If a radio station receives money for playing a record, this money must be documented in two ways:  First, the radio station must run a disclaimer stating that the record that is being played has been paid for by a specific record company.  Second, the station must internally document the plays and payments received.

If listeners hear the disclaimer, are they apt to react differently to the record that follows?  Almost assuredly.  And if a programmer is paid to play a record, when does payola begin and end?  If you are paid to play a record, when do you stop running the disclaimer?  After only one play?  It seems to me that a case could be made that payola would be in effect for every play, making the station run the disclaimer every time the record spins.  If this is not the case, what would prevent an unscrupulous record person from paying a programmer $10,000 for playing a record, but making the entire payment for only the first play it received?

The FCC is famous for not making decisions.  The FCC usually grants no permission for specific rule-bending.  The FCC generally waits until rules have been bent and public perception has been weighed before questioning a particular station about a specific act.

Is “Fair Air” within the boundaries of current FCC regulations?  Who knows?  Who wants to be the test case to find out?  Does any station want to run the risk of questions about payola when it comes time to renew its license?  Not only do you have to admit you’re taking payola, but you have to substantiate that it’s a legal proposition.  You better call Johnnie Cochran!

What about record companies?  “Fair Air” claims that this new system will level the playing field.  Who, in the record business (or radio, for that matter), wants a level playing field?  We make our living in this business on relationships and our ability to influence others depending on the strength of those relationships and the passion we bring with them.  If I, as a record person, have worked long and hard establishing a relationship with a programmer, why would I want to share my time with another record person who hasn’t spent the time or energy doing the same thing?  If I have the talent and the desire to work longer and harder to do a better job, why would I want to share my efforts with someone who happens to type faster on a computer?

As a record company, I’m supposed to pay for the “privilege” of giving every other company the same opportunity I’ve invested both time and money in achieving?  Not hardly.

And what about the programmer?  Suppose I really believe in a record and jump on it out of the box.  I expect a commitment from the record company for this early support. And I get it because the record company will bend over backwards to reward a programmer who works with them on breaking new artists.  Why should I have to share that commitment with another programmer who jumps on the bandwagon up to six weeks later?  What incentive or desire do I have to make early decisions when I get the same reward for waiting?

If I’m a good programmer, I will find ways to work with and manipulate record companies to my best interest.  Through my efforts and relationships, I can create promotions and concerts that my competitors can’t…because they aren’t as talented or don’t work as hard as I do.  If I’m a record promotion person, through my efforts and relationships, I can work with and manipulate programmers to my best interest.

I want to be judged (and paid) on my ability to do my job better than the other person.  Not because I’m a computer expert.  If that was the case, I’d be working for Apple.

“Fair Air” sounds like an idea dreamed up by a record guy that didn’t make any calls and a programmer who wouldn’t take any.  In my opinion, those who would seek to make this playing field level are those programmers and promoters who are merely adequate in their jobs, and those Sr.VPs who will take, “I couldn’t get him to respond to my e-mail” as an excuse.

In an effort to try and find another way to bleed cash from record companies, “Fair Air” uses a scare tactic to try and drum up business.

This should be called “Seeking Cash And Money.”

SCAM, for short.

I’m The Greatest

5/3/1996 

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Okay, I’ll take a shot at it.  I’ve been criticized by some of my peers because of my recent Editorials.  Many say they have been much too shallow.  I don’t know why that comes as a surprise to anyone who knows me.  Let’s face it, I am a shallow person.  As are most of my friends.  Hey, we can spot a phony with the best of them…mainly because we’re accustomed to seeing one when we look in the mirror.

In our unique business, it’s easy to become enamored with ourselves.  The depth of bullshit that runs through the deep end of the entertainment industry quickly makes hipboots obsolete.  A full-body penetration-proof condom with accompanying foam barely does the trick.

Unfortunately, it’s easy to get caught up in the shuck and jive because we’re usually the ones doing the shucking and jiving.  We’re part of a business that not only claims “You’re So Vain” as a theme song, but is proud of it.  The “…everything…all the time…” lifestyles we lead too often becomes our lives.

And therein lies the rub.

Who the fuck do we think we are?

Our often thankless (and more often, well-paid) jobs make millions for the companies under whose banners we toil.  As promotion people, we are responsible for breaking records that sell millions.  As programmers, we are responsible for operating radio stations that sell for millions.

What’s in it for us?

Some brief Tuesday afternoon glory, some brief Tuesday afternoon grief, some good trends, some bad trends and the opportunity to live like we have real money.

It’s hard not to buy into the hype.  Let’s face it, we order whatever we want at the finest restaurants the country has to offer.  We get the best tickets to the best concerts.  We get to meet the superstars (however briefly) backstage.  They pretend they like us and we pretend that we’re really important to them.  Basically, we get what we want, when we want it.

Few of us come into this business with a great deal of substance.  (I’m referring to substance as a state of life…not substance abuse.  That’s another subject for another time.)  Most of us came upon our jobs by mistake.  There are few of us who, when asked what we wanted to be in the first grade, said, “I want to be a radio programmer or a record promoter.”  The fact is, few of us knew what that was back then.  Unfortunately, many who currently hold down those jobs, still don’t know.

In the broad scope of things, what we’re doing isn’t earth-shattering.  We’re not finding cures for diseases.  Nobody is going to die if we fail.  None of us are going to discover the cure for polio. Of course, I’d like to see Jonas Salk get 60 adds out-of-the-box on that mid-charter we have to sell to radio! Jonas wasn’t up against that Tuesday deadline, either.  He had as long as it took.  We’ve got until the next book…and if the trends suck, we might not make it  that long!

Mostly through our love of music, we were drawn into the jobs we now hold.  I got into radio because I wanted to produce records.  Others have tales just as twisted.  If there is a tie that binds us together, it could probably be identified as the love of music that originally got us into this business.  Isn’t it funny how too often it isn’t about a love of music anymore, but our love of the music business?  Or more aptly, our love for our position in the music business.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, friends and neighbors, you must know one thing: It ain’t who we are, but what we do that makes the moths fly around our flame.

Are we getting a little too cocky out there?

Probably.

There are radio programmers who actually believe they will keep their jobs forever.  And what’s harder to believe is that there are some programmers who actually believe the bullshit they’re being told by record company executives.  Programmers are quick to call “bullshit” when a record promoter is raving about the latest release.  Yet these same programmers believe the strokes and ego-boosting comments from the same promoters.  I guess it’s an absolute fact in our business that if a record executive is talking about the record, it’s bullshit.  But when the promoter is complementing the programmer, it’s the truth. 

Of course!  How could it be any different?

It’s not only the programmer who is buying into this stale loaf of bread.  There are record company executives who fall into the same trap.

And who can blame them?  Promoters are so busy hawking their product that it’s only natural that they begin to believe the same about themselves.

“My record’s the greatest, you’re the greatest, I’m the greatest.”

Right.

We’re all told not to believe our own bullshit.  But when we’re good at it, it’s hard not to be caught up in the hype. Especially since we’re the ones who are responsible.

We carry company credit cards that give us the ability to live in luxury.  We do what 99% of Americans only dream about doing.  And we do it because it’s our job, not because we’re special.  Someone was doing the job before you got there.  They may not have been doing it as good as you, but guess what? They thought they were.  Is it possible that you’re guilty of thinking you’re better than you are?

Let’s not forget that we’re all expendable.  When you leave, someone else will be doing your job.  You might not think they’ll do as good a job as you thought you were doing, but maybe it’s that mentality that make the transition a reality to begin with.

I don’t know what the point of this Editorial is other than for us to take a longer look at the broader picture that brought us to where we are today.  It was the love of music that struck the common chord in the beginning.  How often do you spend listening to music today?

Maybe we should spend a little time on the weekend away from our weekday job.  Maybe we should hang out with people who have no idea what we do.  Maybe we shouldn’t tell them.  Maybe we should begin to question our motives.  Maybe we should stop believing our own bullshit.

Then again, maybe not.

Poe’s Last Hurrah

4/28/1996

It was the night before the last Poe and all through the lobby, all the creatures were stirring and waiting for Bobby.

The suits and tuxedos were all hung with care, for the final finale and who would be there.

The golf match began under dark clouds and rain, but more water would be needed to put out the flames.

In a move quite befitting of Poe’s funeral pyre, some local street urchins set the 12th green on fire. 

That’s what the police thought, who said there and then, but one of the pyros looked a lot like Michael Plen.

When the sun finally set and the heat had abated, we met at the bar to see who was out-dated.

The Poe group has never been known for their clothing, but some of these outfits brought out fear and loathing.

Oh, drinks were consumed and fire alarms rung, but most were just pacing for what was to come.

The second day’s panels were as boring as ever, the hottest topic was forecasting the weather.

A bunch boarded buses where the talk was quite muted, it reminded us all of last year’s Camp Hootie.

The White House was warned of terrorist infiltration, but most were jailed just for a night of detention.

We were escorted through by a man with a gun, but bullets and bombs couldn’t keep us from fun.

Andrea played press sec. from the President’s pew, but instead of questions, it was fruit that we threw.

We saw Nixon’s picture and Truman’s victrola, but the highlight was Clinton’s autographed copy of “PAYOLA!”

We witnessed the wall, of Abe and the steeple, but the hours were dwindling and so were the people.

Dale took off his clothes and jumped in the pond, the crowd shouted in unison, “Put ‘em on, put ‘em on.”

Let’s not forget Lisa, who fell on her head, in the hedges she mistakenly took for her bed.

The boa came calling again right on cue, but this time was witnessed by only a few.

Which two were the drunkest?  Well, that story goes to MTV’s favorite and the girl with nice toes.

Some lightweights left early, they couldn’t take the abuse, but Burt was the one with the lamest excuse.

Gary Bird’s was the best…a noble invention.  He took a group to Cleveland to plan next year’s convention.

It wouldn’t be long until the final toast, but many were wondering if we would get through the roast.

Mason Dixon was the first one who started to dish and we all were surprised that he did it sans fish.

Dan Vallie’s soft voice barely cut through the dinner, but his speech, like his stations, was definitely a winner.

Daniel Glass hadn’t missed one since who-knows-who-had, he spoke only good things and left out the bad.

Ms. Ganis was classy, thoughtful and nice; it was the first time she had made it through Saturday night.

Richard Palmese stunned the crowd without using money, he was the first of the roasters who actually was funny!

Jay Stevens is awesome at WPGC, but it isn’t the slides the makes a PD.

His speech was the shortest, as all will attest, and many (because of this) thought Jonas was best.

The question was “Does Jimmy shit in the woods?”  We all knew the old bear would if he would.

Davenport stole the show with all his tales, of wild sex and whiskey and checks in the mail.

He was crowned king by a loud voice vote, because Jimmy was the only one who mentioned the goat.

Fiedel, the preacher, gave all our just dues, we were surprised that he did it with shoes.

Novia was shaky, but he could have been robbed…he spent all his practice time pitching for jobs.

I’d mention the other who used slides with precision, but I’m not allowed to without his permission.

McCartney was accused of spinning a fable, especially when he mumbled nice things about Cagle.

We all learned a new word when you fall on your fanny, when everything goes wrong it’s called a Galliani.

Dave Sholin played guinea pig alone on the log, he quoted from B.G. and died like a dog.

I was the last one to bang on the gong, I swear I’ve had jobs that never lasted so long.

I now have the last word to leave on the list.  We all love you, Poe Kat…you will missed.

Ramblings

4/5/1996

For those of you who bit hook, line and sinker on our April Fool’s cover and article about the Network 40 convention in 1997, don’t feel like you’re all alone.  Most of the radio and record community fell for it with you…no matter what they say now.

Suffice it to say that the Network 40 convention outlined in last week’s publication was an April Fool’s joke…in so far as the specific events and dates are concerned.  However, since we got your attention, it’s time to tell you that Network 40 will be scheduling a convention in 1997.  The truth is, we have been working on a convention for the past two years and 1997 will see the culmination of those efforts.

It is too early to excite you with the specifics, but Network 40 will be hosting a convention in 1997.  Not joke.  I promise.  Really. I swear.

One of the most exciting elements of Network 40’s 1997 convention is the pre-convention get together this year.  The Network 40 Summer Games (scheduled for later in the summer) will be announced in the next couple of weeks.  It will be a small, select gathering held in a special place with a great atmosphere.

Keep reading Network 40 to find out the exact dates.  You won’t want to miss it.

On another note, for all of you who read last week’s Editorial on golf and called to complain that I had written about you…relax.  I wouldn’t continue playing with you if you were as bad as those I wrote about.  It was kind of funny.  I wrote the article before I played with Scott Shannon last week.  While we were playing, I even told him that he would like the Editorial.  But he was quick to complain afterwards that I had written the article about him.

And he wasn’t the only one.  My phone was ringing off the hook.  Todd Cavanaugh told me he had taken a bunch of lessons and was really a lot better than the last time we played.  Craig Lambert called from a plane to say how glad he was that I had written about “other” people.  He was sure he wasn’t guilty of any of the things I had described.  (Read it again, bud.)

Burt Baumgartner has ridden in enough carts with me to know what I was talking about.  I got calls from Greg Thompson, Bill Richards, Joe Riccitelli, Bruce St. James, David Leach, Kevin Weatherly and Justin Fontaine. 

Rich Fitzgerald said he hadn’t read the article.  He was too busy telling everyone about his last round of golf and the different shots he hit.

Les Garland and Bill Pfordresher knew exactly what I was talking about.

The most interesting call was from Andrea Ganis and Danny Buch.  Neither plays golf.  After reading my article, both have vowed if they ever did take up the game, they certainly would not to play with me because I am such a snob.  They missed the point, but I guess the article worked.  I’ve kept at least two people from gobbling up future tee times!

I must admit, however, that the Editorial would have been much more biting (and certainly a lot funnier) if Network 40 publisher Gary Bird hadn’t gotten involved.  In my years here at Network 40, through all the brutal, condemning and sometimes borderline bad-taste Editorials I have written, Gary Bird has never changed one word.  Until last week.  Using a red pen so much that the page looked bloody, Gary managed to excise many of the “funnier” stories that could be attributed directly to him.  I only got that, “Gimmie a six,” comment in just before we went to press.

I will point out one positive among the many that come to mind when members of our industry get together for a round of golf.  There are no industry egos on the golf course.  If you’re two down on a press going into the 18th hole, we don’t give a damn how many records you added last week, you better hit that four iron into the wind, across the water, over the sand trap and stiff to the pin.

And in answer to the criticism I’m sure to hear next week, I know the majority of you don’t care about golf.  I’ll put it in the “rest” category for a while.

On still another note, is it just me or are things a little ugly in the real world right now?  Tension seems to be higher, tempers are quicker to flash and egos are reaching the boiling point at the drop of a hat.  It’s got to be the weather.  It has been a nasty winter for the majority of the country.  Hell, even in Los Angeles we’ve had the thermometer dip into the 60s a time or two and and it’s rained four times since January 1st.  I’ve got to tell you, we’ve really had it rough!

And just when you think it’s time for the weather to break and spring to be here, another cold front blows in, bringing a bite to the air and even snow in some parts.  What’s going on?

As leaders (and I use that term loosely) of our industry, it’s important for us to keep these outside forces in mind when dealing with those in the workplace.  The end of winter brings out the worst in all of us.  We’re all on point, waiting for the sun to begin shining every day and wondering what’s taking it so long.  We’re tired of our winter clothes…especially the overcoats.  We’ve been inside too long and most of us don’t take vacations during the winter months…we wait for summer.  This can cause all of us to get more than a little bit stir crazy.

Give your co-workers a break.  Maybe it’s time for a company picnic or some kind of outing.  We’ve been yelling at each other in these confined spaces for the past few months and a little lightening up might do us all good.

Our industry is quick to criticize when things go wrong and rather reluctant to praise when things go right.  Now might be the perfect time to take a deep breath, push back for a second and positively acknowledge those around you for a winter’s work well done.

That goes double for those on the other side of the fence.  Whether it is golf, tennis, pool or whatever, it’s important that we all spend more time together outside the office environment.  The stress of our jobs makes it difficult for us to see the forest for the tress…and those trees are really important.  Getting to know your peers in a neutral environment can give you insights that will help you do your job better…and, who knows, you might find a real person out there.

Then again, we don’t care what kind of a person you are as long as you can hit that four iron into the wind, across the…

Fore!

3/29/1996 

I am a little pissed off today.  (Wow, now there’s a news flash!)  More than a little pissed off, actually.  As my good friend Sammy Alfano, would say, “Bud, I’m gettin’ hot!”

There are too many people playing golf.  And it’s making it difficult for the rest of us who are serious about the game.

This thing is out of control.  Finding a tee time in Los Angeles is about as difficult as getting a murder conviction.  It happens, but not often enough.  It got so bad that I had to join a country club.  Now I don’t have anything against country clubs as a whole, but it just doesn’t seem right to me to pay thousand of dollars as an initiation fee just for the privilege of paying an additional $300 a month that allows me to pay another $10 to play around of golf.  That’s unless I bring a guest.  Then you can tack on another $100 bill.  Of course, I share the same feelings as Groucho Marx.  I’m not sure I want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.

Over the past few years, golf has become such an “in” thing that everyone is teeing it up.  Or trying to.  And this is pissing me off.

I couldn’t get a tee time at my own club last Wednesday.  I had to fly to Phoenix to play with Scott Shannon.  And after flying to Arizona, renting a car and paying the green fees, it was still cheaper than if I had tried to play in Los Angeles.

Millions are playing golf.  What’s wrong with these people?  Don’t they have jobs?

It wasn’t long ago that Steve Smith (publisher of The Network Group) and a few of his friends started the T.J. Martell Golf Tournament.  I think the first outing had only three groups.  Now, hundreds line up for a tournament that has to designate two different shotgun starts to accommodate everyone.

Damn you people!  What happened to bowling? Or tennis?

Don’t get me wrong.  I have nothing against people in our business who play golf seriously.  There’s nothing more pleasurable than an enjoyable round with your peers.  Golf with a group who enjoys and knows the game is wonderful.  But it’s you once-in-a-blue-moon hobbyists who really shank my drive.

Look, if you must play, there are certain things you must know before making a complete fool out of yourself and pissing off the rest of us.

If you’re going to play the game, observe the following suggestions:

Take some lessons:  If you’re going to play the game, damn it, learn how.  If you don’t know how, don’t cause the rest of us pain with your presence.  I’m not saying you’ve got to shoot par, but if all you can do is roll the ball off the tee, don’t come to the golf course.  You won’t have fun and you’ll make the rest of us miserable.  A few lessons and a few more trips to the driving range will make you and the rest of us much happier in the long run.

Keep up with the pace:  Nobody can master the game of golf.  It humbles all of us.  If you can’t play well or you’re having a bad day, that’s understandable.  But keep your partners in mind.  If you hit a few bad shots on a hole, pick up the flipping ball.  Move ahead to the rest of the group and try again.  If you still screw up, take your ball and drop it on the green.  Don’t make everyone wait while you goof around.  You’ll bring your lousy attitude to the rest of the foursome.

Take your time:  This may sound in conflict with the previous suggestion, but it isn’t.  You should play your game consistently and promptly so as not to hold up the group, but you must realize that golf takes time.  A round will last between four and five hours.  Don’t try and rush to finish so you can return for a meeting.  If you’re going to play, take the afternoon off.  Relax and enjoy it.

Do not bullshit when it’s your time to hit:  You have more than enough time during a round to talk to your partners about everything.  Do this when you’re in the cart or walking up the fairway.  Don’t tell a story on the tee when everyone is waiting.  Shut up and hit it.

Do not bore the group with a glowing rendition of your last shot:  Nobody cares.  We’re all concentrating on our next shot.  Don’t expound upon the virtues of a shot that was “pin high” when it was also 50 yards left of the green.

Don’t give tips to others unless you’re asked:  Nothing is worse than someone who doesn’t know the game to be giving advice to another novice.  Shut up.  Or better yet, both of you go take a lesson.

Lean how to count:  If you’re going to play the game seriously, keep score.  If not, don’t count.  But if you do count, be accurate.  The other members of your group know how many times you swung…particularly if there’s money on the line.  I’ve often impressed newcomers by recounting every stroke of every member of a foursome after the game was over.  I learned to play with thieves in the South.  My father taught me to count everyone’s strokes before he let me touch a club.  All serious players do the same.  Don’t claim a score and have to be corrected.  It’s embarrassing to everyone.  Plus, we’ll think you’re a cheat when you may have made an honest mistake.  Count them all or don’t count at all.  This is not to be confused with the famous Gary Bird line, “Just gimmie a six.”  If you’re out of the hole and want to slide by without ruining your entire game, that statement is okay.  You’re telling everyone you screwed up, but you’re not trying to screw them out of anything.

On the green, don’t walk in someone else’s line or putt out of turn:  It just proves what we knew already, that you’re a selfish son-of-a-bitch who cares about nothing except yourself.  Mark your ball, stand to the side and wait your turn.  And shut up.  If your advice is needed, we’ll ask.

Don’t get angry, yell or throw a club when you hit a bad shot:  We don’t care.  Learn how to play the frigging game and you’ll be happier.

No plaid pants:  This is self-explanatory.

These are just a few of the things all of us who play the game would like the rest of you to observe.  And when you read this, don’t think it doesn’t apply to you.  If you’re an idiot who insists on being a fool on the golf course, playing like a buffoon and ruining the game for the rest of us, please don’t be fooled by our outwardly patient smiles.

We talk about you behind your back.

Research This

3/8/1996

It’s not testing well.

There is possibly no other sentence in the world that can spin a promotion person into an instant funk so quickly.

It’s not testing well?  Why don’t you just shoot me in the head and get it over with quickly?

If you are a promotion person who is told by a PD that the song you’re currently working isn’t testing well, there are several options you have at your disposal to save the situation.  First, and most important, you must consider the source.

Every programmer who uses research makes a final determination based on different sets of facts.  You must do some research so you can make a good argument.

Record research is, for the most part, objective in nature; results are subjective, depending on the whos, whys and hows involved.

It is mandatory that you determine what criteria are used by the programmer who is giving your record a bad report card.

If a programmer spouts research, take the time to go to school…with the programmers as your teacher. Many will gladly spend the time to explain their methodology to you.  Most are proud of their specific kind of research, the implementations and conclusions. Ask questions.  Seek answers.  Hope for illumination.

Find out what kind of research is being conducted.  Does the programmer rely on an outside company to conduct the research?  If so, what company?  Are the respondents local or does the company do national research and provide the data to the radio station? This is particularly important because if the programmer is using a national average, your record could be doing better (or worse) locally.  If the programmer is using a national compilation and you really believe that particular radio station is important, test it yourself locally and use the results to plead your case (id those results are positive).  There are several companies that do research for individual markets.  It is a mystery why more record companies don’t utilize these services to combat negative research for stations that depend on the same.

Are the respondent screened in any way?  This is critical.  What demos and sex are being targeted?  Record that test well in some demos can show the opposite results in others.  Find out the specifics of why your record is performing poorly so you can study to show another result.  If respondents are national, you have an argument.  If respondents aren’t screened for the specific station, you have an argument.  If respondents aren’t screened for the station’s core audience, you have an argument.  And isn’t that what a good promotion person is looking for?  Something to argue?  Once you have some sort of foothold…some stance you can argue for…then it’s up to you to win the argument.

If a programmer does local, in-house research that is screened for the station’s core listeners and your record scores poorly…what then?  Ask if you can see…or at least be told…the total research breakout of the record in question.  Why is it showing negatives and what negatives is it showing?  If it tests poorly because it is unfamiliar, you have an argument.  The programmer should play it more before making a decision to drop it.  Maybe the record tests poorly only because of the unfamiliarity.  Try and get the rotation increased.  If the research shows that the audience just isn’t responding to the record, provide research from other markets that show the opposite.  If the record is testing with a high degree of burn, ask about requests.  Records that haven’t been played a lot, but show some degree of burn, are usually reactive records.  A lot of people may be burned, but more may be requesting the record.  If that’s the case, you’ve got an argument.

Know your poison.  If you’ve dealing with a programmer who treats research like the Holy Grail, you must make your argument using familiar tools.  Make your pitch armed to the teeth in your won research.  After you’ve taken the time to have the programmer explain research to you, come back with a bag full of the same type of research.  Sure, it might be from a different market or a different core, but at least it will give you something on which to base your case.  But if you’re trying to convince a died-in-the-wool research hound that your record should be added, you can’t make that pitch based on the flimsy argument that, “…it’s doing really well on WXXX.”  Provide specific research that will convince the programmer you’ve done your homework.  If nothing else, the programmer will appreciate your understanding and attempt to deal with an add based on familiar logic.

Also understand that some programmers use research as an excuse when they don’t really believe in a record.  Many are reluctant to say they just don’t like a record, because it opens up an argument that isn’t based on facts the programmer can control.  It’s easier to say that a record isn’t testing well…most promotion people don’t know how to respond to that argument.

You must also be consistent.  If you’re going to hang your hat on research, you must live and die by the sword.  Don’t try to use research to convince a programmer, then have the research go upside down and have to fall back on another excuse.  Find out how to attack each programmer specifically and be consistent in that approach.  Programmers look for inconsistency in promotion people and once they find it, the promotion person’s credibility is dead.

When I became PD of KFRC San Francisco, I made a point of stating that I didn’t use research to determine what records I added.  I either liked a record and added it…or didn’t like a record and didn’t add it.  One particular promotion person praised me for this trait.  He said he was tired of people who relied too heavily on research.  He was happy I was programming KFRC…until I didn’t add his record because I didn’t like it.  What did he do the next week?  Provided me with research to prove I was wrong.

It didn’t work then and it won’t work today.  Provide the programmers with specific information they trust in making their decisions.  If that doesn’t work?  Fly a few winners to Hawaii…with the PD, of course.

It’s amazing how much better a record tests in Maui.

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.