Gerry Cagle

2/19/1999

Fat Tuesday.  Nope, not a week when you got a lot of adds on your record, but the beginning of the end in New Orleans.  That would be The Gavin convention in the French Quarter.  Many of us will be there trying to pretend we’ve really getting a little work done.  Some will be putting on long faces in an effort to convince their bosses that they really aren’t having fun.

It’s all bullshit…the act and the convention.  Everyone knows the only convention where you can really bond with those from the business is the Network 40 Summer Games III June 24-26 in Lake Tahoe. But that’s another Editorial…or is it?

This year’s Gavin convention is full of questions.  The air is full of whispers and rumors of new mergers and further cutbacks.  It’s hard to be merry when you don’t know what’s going to happen to your company tomorrow..or is it?

If you’re looking to hide or have fun (or maybe both), you can do a lot worse than New Orleans.  So forget why you’re there…I mean, what is The Gavin, anyhow?  No Bill…no Dave Sholin…no Ron Fell.  Oh, but there’s David Dalton.  What was the original question?

Dalton tolerates me like an English lord who has to have dinner with a wealthy Irish farmer.  New money always pisses off old money…especially when there’s more new than old.  If David’s nose was a little longer, he would’t even see me.  David can’t help it.  He’s English, for God’s sake.  The English have no sense of humor.  They believe things are “cute” and “quite nice” and may give in to the occasional tight smile, but they’ll never laugh.  And certainly never at themselves.  They’re too serious.  Am I talking about the English or The Gavin?  Is there a difference?  What do I care?   I didn’t read The Gavin when Bill was alive.  I only go because Bobby Galliani gives me free passes.  And that’s really a sham.  It’s payola money he owes me from KFRC in the ‘80s.  What?  You think he managed to buy all those apartment buildings on the Atlantic local’s salary?

So, you’re wailing in New Orleans.  Can I give you a bit of advice?  Run!

There are only two things to do in New ORleans:  Eat and drink.  And there is no better place to do either.  In New Orleans, the bars are open all night, so be careful. Take it from one who grew up in the Vieux Carre, there’s nothing comparable to having fun drinking all night, then opening the door to the bar and having the morning sun slap you right in the face.  It’s the worst feeling imaginable.  Now you know why Dracula lies down long before sunrise.

Body language is extremely important at The Gavin.  Remember never to look someone in the eyes when you’re speaking with them.  Always look over their shoulder for someone more important.  It’s known as the “100-foot stare” in the business.

“The Glance” is extremely important.  When approached by someone at the convention, always glance at their name tag since there’s no chance you’ll actually know who they are.  Once they engage you in conversation, you can’t peek.  They’ll be watching for it.

And let’s not forget the language required.  Conventionese.  Is this your first convention?  You’re not familiar with the speech?  Please, allow me to help you out.  In the following paragraphs, you’ll find phrases (and the meaning) you’ll need to bob and weave your way through this, or any other, convention.

“When jagit in?”  This means I don’t know you very well, I don’t care to know you any better, we have nothing in common and I’m only talking to you because I can’t find anyone more important…right now.

“Where ‘ya stayin’?”  This means I don’t know you very well, I don’t care to know you any better, we have nothing in common and I’m only talking to you because I can’t find anyone more important…right now.

“Can I buy you a drink?” This means you’re really ignorant because nobody buys drinks at a convention except record people.

“Who does your stagers?” This immediately identifies you as a small-town PD. Even if you get an answer, you couldn’t afford it.

“Got any drugs?”  This used to signify someone who was looking to score pot, blow or LSD.  Now, it’s someone with an upset stomach looking for Zantac.

“How long is this award thing going to last?”  This means you’re an amateur.  Only those who actually win an award attend…and they’re told in advance or they wouldn’t show up.

“Want to come to dinner with us?”  This is asked by record people.

“Mind if I join you for dinner?”  This is asked by programmers, but it isn’t asked often since there aren’t many PDs at The Gavin Convention.

And the number one phrase that will be heard at The Gavin convention this year?  “When are the Network 40 Summer Games?”

June 24-26 in Lake Tahoe

July 23rd, 1999

I write this editorial at the height of the hype over the tragic consequences that led to the death of John F. Kennedy, Jr.  It is quite possible that by the time you read these words, the story will be old news (thankfully) and you will have passed onto something else.  That is, in fact, my hope.

Like everyone, I was saddened by the news that JFK, Jr. was lost at sea.  The thought of another tragedy befalling the Kennedy family made me pause and remember the days of his father.  John F. Kennedy didn’t change my life, but he changed the way I look at life.  His brief presidency breathed oxygen into the decaying process of politics, which was, until his ascension, dominated by fat, old men in bad suits  You could smell the stench of cigars, booze and back room deals through the flickering tv images, which were as blurred as their morals and promises.

No one will forget JFK.  Everyone from my generation can tell you where they were when notified of his death.  The loss was cataclysmic.  It made you ponder your place in life…and history.

Now, his son is gone and the media frenzy that followed his final blip on the radar screen is over the top.  Enough already.

The media has become a medium that celebrates celebrity…with a passion.  I watched, disgusted at the coverage from all networks, “broadcasting live from the  Kennedy compound in Hyannisport.” Producers scrambled to put together pieces that chronicled the “exceptional life” of JFK, Jr.  I counted 26  “close, personal friends” who were interviewed.  Each told extraordinary stories.  I tuned out when they interviewed a sad-faced man who was JFK, Jr.’s camp counselor.

Give me a break.

With all due respect to JFK, Jr., the media event that accompanied his disappearance was bigger than his life.  John was, by all accounts, a normal student.  Upon graduation from law school, it took him four tries to pass the bar exam.  He dabbled as an Assistant DA before using some of his considerable fortune to establish a new magazine. George is cute, fun and political.  The truth is, George is widely read only inside the beltway.  Circulation outside of D.C. is moderate , at best.

Let’s face it, JFK, Jr. was best known as the son of an icon and as People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.”

This isn’t criticism, but an honest account of his life.

Yet, the media turned upside down to portray his death as a tragedy of epic proportions.  The “tragedy” will touch normal americans Americans as much the death of any good looking, wealthy young man.  It’s terribly sad.  But that’s all.

Why are we so hooked on the life and times of celebrities? What makes celebrity so great? Do you get smarter? Do you get wiser? Does it make you do more for others?  Generally, it makes you richer. And a jerk.  That’s it.

The news people who hype the death of JFK, Jr. do so more as a self-serving ritual than for any moral sense of right. Their intrusive cameras, set up across the street for a fleeting glimpse of a Kennedy through a window, are done to “capture an exclusive” rather than to give us pictures of breaking news.  Anchors line up across the street and proudly end their reports, “Live, from the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport,” only because it makes them feel important.  It makes me want to vomit.

If this tragedy and the surrounding hoopla that rises well over knee-deep doesn’t prove the point I’ve been trying to make for years.  Nothing will.  We aren’t what we do.

It’s easy to criticize.  It’s much tougher to do something about it.  So between my moods of abject hatred of vampires of the network news, I began to question my own worth.  Who am I? What do I do? If I augered a plane straight down into the ocean tomorrow, what legacy would I leave?

Who do you think you are?

What have you done that stands for something?  Don’t pretend records you worked or ratings you won count.  Those accomplishments hardly last a week until there’s another.  That’s only your job.

What about your life?

I write this editorial with mixed emotions.  There’s a lot of hypocrisy at work here. Network 40 serves as a vehicle to promote the very celebrity I’m criticizing.  But hopefully, we do it because it makes calculated business sense, not because we believe it’s our salvation.  There’s nothing wrong with harmless hype for personal gain and glory…as long as we don’t buy into the hype that what we do makes us better.  It only makes us successful.

What you do at home when nobody’s watching or listening is what ultimately matters in your life.

For those of you who don’t agree, I can only say, “Live from Hollywood. I’m Gerry Cagle.”

December 3rd, 1999

Included with this regular issue of Network 40 is a special edition that salutes Crossover radio and music.  The Crossover issue has great significance to all of us at Network 40 and particularly to me, personally. The past 20 years have seen the development of Crossover from what was once considered a “niche” format into a format that stands alone.  In the past year, with the increased sucess of Top 40, Crossover has broken more records into the Mainstream than any time since the 1980’s.

I would know.

As mentioned in the Crossover issue, I was lucky enough to program what many consider to be the first Crossover station in history: KFRC in San Francisco.  When I arrived in KFRC in 1980, the station had been trending down for nearly two years.  A former AM heritage Top 40, KFRC’s audience had been badly eroded by the FM onslaught.  The station had drifted to a more AOR stance without any success. FM stations of all formats had gained bits and pieces, but no FM had gained a position of dominance, due in part to San Francisco’s hilly terrain. Few in the industry gave KFRC any chance of success.  I was just ignorant enough to believe the opposite.  Besides, I didn’t have a choice.  I had just run for Congress in Mississippi.  (My supporters said it was more like a walk.) Shortly after losing the election, I ran for the border!

After arriving in San Francisco and studying the market, it became apparent to me that there was only one way to go.  The only station in the city with positive ratings over the last two years was Urban KSOL.  Their upward trend seemed to coincide with KFRC’s decline.  When General Manager Pat Norman asked me what we should do, I said “the only way I know how to program is uptempo Top 40 with a heavy emphasis on R&B.  We’ll either win that way or drive this pig into the bay at 100 miles an hour!”

He agreed.  Then again, he didn’t have a choice.  Few people wanted to be the programmer in charge when KFRC went belly-up.

And away we went.

I would like to say I was a genius for what happened over the next four years , but it was more like a living example of the old adage.  “Necessity is the mother of all invention.”

And KFRC was a mutha!

We began adding a ton of R&B and pure Urban music to the mix and KFRC took off. The station became the powerhouse of the early 80’s.  This was also another one of those times when everyone was predicting the death of Top 40.  When “The Big 610 KFRC” began playing “Crossover” music, there wasn’t a Top 40 station in New York or Los Angeles.  All the trades screamed, “Top 40 is dead.”  Fortunately for us, few San Francisco listeners could read.

KFRC began playing “unknown” artists like The Gap Band, Lakeside, Rick James, Kool and the Gang, Dazz Band, The Time, Junior, Frankie Smith and many more, including the the first rap song “Rappers Delight, “ by the Sugarhill Gang.  Sure, you’ve heard them all now, but back then, it was beyond the pale.  We even had to publish a “fay” playlist that didn’t include the R&B music we were pounding.  When advertisers complained, we would show them the list loaded with the Doobies, Boz Skaggs and Jefferson Starship.  This was before the BDS, so nobody could prove the only time you heard these songs was after midnight.

In between the music, some great radio was made.  KFRC built and operated the first mobile studio, enabling us to be a part of our audience and broadcast from all over the Bay area.  The mobile station was nicer than the real one on Bush street.  None of the jocks wanted to have to go into the station.

And who were those jocks? Some of the very best in the business.  Dr. Don Rose held down mornings.  Dave Sholin was on middays.  if you don’t believe me, ask Dwayne or Kilgo.  Other “legends” who passed through those doors during that time period include:  Harry Nelson, Mark McKay, Bobby Ocean, Big Jack Armstrong, Shotgun Tom Kelly and Bill Lee.  Keith Naftaly’s first job in radio was answering the request lines at KFRC.

Local record people who were getting their records played at KFRC haven’t done badly either.  Careers whose origins can be traced back to San Francisco include Burt Baumgartner, Brenda Romano, Jim Burruss, Bruce Hix, Jeff Trager, Bob Galliani, David Foreman and David Newmark.

How did it sound? Ask some of those whose careers were influenced like Dan Kiely, Steve Rivers or Bill Richards.

It was a special time.  We didn’t know we were making history.  We didn’t know we were inventing Crossover.  All we knew was that the music was great, We were having a blast and Ernie made a fortune!

3/9/1999

Welcome to (The Magazine That Doesn’t Care About) Radio & Records, The Bellagio of trade publications.  You can only play if you’re in markets #125 or better. Come on in and play our wonderful games of chance.  We’ve only got one name, actually.  Craps.  Hey, #126, get away from the table.  You can’t play here anymore.  We used to let you play, but now you’re not big enough. You’re not good enough to play with us anymore.  There was a time when we pretended to like you…but those those times are gone.  We don’t like you anymore. Get out!

The controversy surrounding R&R’s alliance with Mediabase and the ultimate downsizing of their charts continues.  I get glowing praises for ‘telling it like it is.”  It’s almost sad that in our world of bullshit, the occasional honest opinion sticks out so blatantly.  We’re so politically correct.  Wouldn’t it be nice if you could always say what you really feel?  If you could tell the PD the radio station really sucks? Or if you could tell the promotion executive the record really blows?

All too often, we couch our opinions in the soft velvet cushion of political correctness instead of letting the chips fall where they may.  Jack Nicholson’s lines are never more appropriate than when used in connection with the radio or record industries: “You want the truth? You cant handle the truth!”

With the accolades for saying what needs to be said comes the occasional complaint that I go too far…that I get too personal.  Radio people understand.  When dealing with your competition, it is personal.  It’s all about counter-programming.  Can I help it if I’m a better PD than Sky or Tony? Please.

Decisions made by those in power at R&R are personal, no matter how much they profess the opposite.  Every PD knows that.  Every PD knows the agony of begging R&R to grant status, even after qualifying under the ever changing criteria.  Every PD knows that those in the executive tower at R&R are patently unfair and use the power of the position to further their private agenda.

It would be different if the self appointed dictators at R&R were actually qualified to make such judgements.  By and large, they aren’t.  Mediocrity rules at R&R.

But this isn’t an Editorial about mediocrity.  It’s about trying to make those responsible for detrimental changes in the lives and times of radio and records take responsibility for their actions.

The dictators at R&R have made a decision to change the reporting status of many of their reporters, but they aren’t telling you exactly what’s going on. Do you know why?

Could it be about money?

I don’t hold making money against any person or company.  Greed is good.  If I was against the concept, I would write more Editorials about Hits…and I don’t.  Capitalism is cool.  If Network 40 wasn’t profitable, you can be sure I wouldn’t have this forum.  You would be reading my opinions, if you cared at all, on some obscure website in cyberspace.

There are a couple of questions that haven’t been answered in my precious Editorials.  Surprised? Me, too. I thought all the ground had been covered.  But many of you have written in with questions.  I’ll continue to beat the dead horse as long as you supply the whips.

R&R says it will still care about smaller markets, even though markets below #125 won’t be used in making up the charts.  We’ve already given you our reasoning on this ridiculous concept.  The only thing more irrational than R&R making this statement are those few stations below #125 who actually believe it.

Don’t you wonder why R&R is waiting until June 11 to let you know exactly what they’re doing?  You know the dictators have already made their decisions., so why the foot-dragging in telling the rest of the industry?

Could it be that R&R is waiting for those convention checks to clear?  You can bet on it.

Network 40, in conjunction with the Nevada Sports book, is starting an over/under betting line on the exact date when R&R will let you know how badly they intend on screwing you.  We’ll let The Monitor hold the money.

There are also parlay bets on the following: Since R&R “conviction, “ I mean convention, begins June 10, will they have the guts to show a list of the small-market losers before the event and then catch heat from those suckered into coming to the “concussion” for nothing?

Will R&R show the list at the “confession, “ but have some sort of Trojan Horse panel that shows how “virtually important” their importance is?

Or will R&R be totally gutless and withhold the list of losers until after the convention is over?

New shooter coming out.

Its R&R.

Bet the Don’t Pass.

10/15/1999

Something happened at the Moonitor convention in Miami last week that still has people talking.  I mean, besides the fungus growing on the sheets in the hotel.  Besides the constant construction to seal the rat holes.  And besides the programmer’s wife who came in a day early and found her husband with a transvestite.

One of the panel discussions actually caused controversy.  (Makes me think about instituting panels at The Network 40 Summer Games.)  In a group gathered to discuss the differences between R&B and Rhythm stations, tempers got a little out of control.

Wow!  Such emotion.  Too bad they don’t exhibit the same passion for the music.

Anyhow, some valid and invalid comments were made that still have people forwarding annoying e-mails across the ethernet.

People, please.

The points I choose to address in this Editorial are the following, not necessarily in order of their importance:  Programmers of Crossover stations not returning calls from the Urban departments of record companies and being accused of racial bias; radio stations being listed under different formats by trade magazines; and credit for breaking artists given to different departments within record company.

First of all, playing the race card against programmers or promotion people is without credibility in our business.  If I was Black or Hispanic, I would probably wake up angry every morning.  The racial injustice of our world (although diminishing drastically with each year that passes) is unfair.  But anger is a wasted emotion topped only by jealousy.  The combination of the two is a combustible mixture guaranteed to burn anyone to ashes.  To single out the radio and music industries is unwarranted.

No other industry is as color blind as the music business. Nobody cares what the color is, only if it’s a hit.  If you’re really steeped in anger, you can point to the many artists who were ripped off in the ‘50s and ’60.  You would be right.  It was about color.  The color of money.

It’s about money in this business…as in every other business.  We can talk about art for art’s sake, but the bottom line is the bottom line.  Today, more than ever.  That’s why it’s called the music business.

It’s easy to hide behind the race card as a reason for your inability to do the job.  But it’s not the right card to play.  If you can’t get a programmer on the phone, perhaps it’s because he doesn’t want to talk to you.  Or doesn’t have time.  Or because he doesn’t know you.  Or any of a hundred other reasons.  PDs have every excuse in the book not to take your call.  Trust me:  Race isn’t on of them.  Dan Kieley and Scott Shannon don’t pick up every time I call.  And it isn’t because I’m white.  More likely because I’m annoying.

Blaming radio stations for format descriptions is also an empty argument.  Better to blame trade magazines that decide where to put particular radio stations. I’ve beaten this point into a pulp over the past several years.  Trade magazines have absolutely, positively no right to define a radio station’s format.

That’s up to individual radio stations.  Network 40 never has and never will assign a format to a station.  We let the stations make those decisions.  We either accept their description or we don’t take their reports.  Trade magazines that segregate should be blamed.  Most PDs don’t care what you call their radio stations…they just care that their audience listens.  Why take it out on a PD whose station is listed as Crossover, yet plays the same records as an Urban in the same market?  Record companies can’t change radio stations, but record company dollars can change how trade magazines reflect formats.  You want to be angry?  Be angry at your company for supporting trade magazines that don’t recognize your distinctions.

While we’re on record companies, let’s discuss who is responsible for breaking a Mainstream artist.  Is it the Urban department?  The Crossover department?  The Pop department?  Hold on to your seat.  It isn’t any of you.  It’s the people who listen.  Record companies spend countless millions in promotion and marketing trying to move records across formats.  Companies succeed only when the mainstream record buyers like the record.  Three cheers for those of you who take Urban product to Top 40, but if the listeners don’t like it, it isn’t a hit.  If it is a hit, the credit should goto the artist and the promotion department as a whole, not a particular division.

You want to end racial tension in our business?  Start in your own department.  Urban, Crossover and Top 40 must work together to break records…regardless of color.  Then you’ll all share equally in the glory…and the best color of them all.

Green.