So far in the merry, merry month of May, we've seen any number of events transpire, paramount of which is the elimination of the most wanted villain in the world. Then, in no particular order, there's been Major League Baseball taking control of the Dodgers, while the team achieves mediocrity on the field; We're watching another TV season end with, as usual, reality shows topping the ratings; and last, but certainly not least, the struggle of man's best friend to perform an evacuation for his doting, spandex-clad mistress. Yes, even the great Canine Constipation Caper merits note in this month's myriad of observations.
THIS IS A BULLETIN FROM CBS NEWS...
That's how they would slate it in television's first 15 years. A bulletin, like one would receive on an Associated Press ticker. Sunday May 1st, the slate read CBS NEWS Special Report, crawling at the bottom of the screen while 60 Minutes continued. I was on air, executing an innocuous weekend, TV on, as usual. It's pretty much a good idea to always have it on during an important ball game, or tuned to news, in case something of note should occur. Music stations don't pay for the Associated Press, anymore, and the internet is not as fast at breaking news as the networks and news channels on TV.
When CBS semi-interrupts its signature news program with a crawl that reads the "President of the United States will speak in half an hour," it gets your attention. What the hell could be happening on a Sunday night, 7:30 PDT, 10:30 Eastern Time? What topped my mind was, would I have to go on air with what ever is happening? Music stations do not, as a rule, stop the music unless there's a local emergency, war is declared, or someone of political prominence as been assassinated.
This is how I came to deliver the news that Osama Bin Laden had been killed by Navy Seals in a surprise attack. I wasn't the first to break the news. I had to call the boss, then waited until the music sweep came to it's end at 8:18, just before President Obama addressed the nation. By then, all the networks had confirmed that Bin Laden was dead, but those in their cars listening to KRTH got it first from yours truly.
Even while playing a small role in the announcement of an historic moment, a student of journalism or "news junkie," can't help but observe how a major event is reported. Anyone my age or older remembers where they were and what they were doing when JFK, RFK and MLK, Jr. were assassinated; when Neil Armstrong stepped foot on the moon's surface; when Nixon resigned; when the Challenger exploded...and when those jets struck the twin towers and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001.
All I can tell you about November 22, 1963 was that the news came on, and wouldn't stop. No cartoons. Such is the perspective of a Four-year-old. My sister remembers the tears in Walter Cronkite's eyes as he broke the news. She was seven, and her recollection predates the thousands of times the moment has been replayed in the last 30 years. Usually, it's something like that which will stand out during the reporting of a crisis.
All of us vividly recall the late Peter Jennings in his shirtsleeves, on the air, day and night after Tuesday, 9/11/01. He was in control, calm and collected, and asking his director to linger on a shot of firefighters draping a flag across the roof of the Pentagon, nearest to where the intentionally crashed jetliner had left a gaping hole.
Sunday May 1st, because I was on the air, and had to quickly and concisely draft a bulletin for delivery on a music station (short and to the point), I didn't sample all the networks, but saw that NBC (reporting first on MSNBC, then breaking over the NBC network) had their first team working, regardless of the hour, and irrespective of it being Sunday night. David Gregory, host of Meet the Press, was first on, followed by White House Correspondent Chuck Todd, then Brian Williams, the nation's top-rated news anchor.
I had the studio TV on CBS, of course, with an occasional eye on 60 Minutes. It was Lara Logan's first appearance since her horrible assault in Egypt. I wrote an earlier post on this blog about Lara. It was as if our worst nightmare came true when she was attacked by that mob in February. Her disturbing account of the assault had concluded around 8:20, PDT. Within twenty minutes, she was back on the air, jarringly, describing Bin Laden and Al-Qaeda, in her role as CBS Chief Foreign Correspondent. In New York, hours had passed. Here, it made your head jerk! My God...this woman's resiliency! For now, it's the thing that stands out about what I saw, Sunday night, before the President spoke. There was something else I noted, though: Where were the rest of the CBS first-teamers?
Poor, sedate Russ Mitchell, seemed almost too calm, and over matched. The rest of the CBS crew gave good, hard news reports, but they are not well known at all. Bob Orr, David Martin, Chip Reid at the White House. If ever a network suffered from being in third place for twenty years, and if there were ever proof that it doesn't pay to not have a news channel under your company umbrella (as NBC does), CBS is it. Katie Couric will be gone, June 3rd, probably to ABC for a talk show, in 2012. The talent paid millions to be the face of the news organization was not to be found when the network reported that, at long last, Bin Laden was dead.
I couldn't help thinking back on the talent that went through CBS in the 60's, 70's and early 80's. SERIOUS journalists who were out front and ahead on every story from Moonshots to Vietnam, from Watergate to The Iran Hostage situation. My bookshelves are filled with memoirs by Roger Mudd, Dan Rather, Walter Cronkite, Bob Sheiffer, Daniel Shorr, and others who tell the story of how television journalism (specifically at CBS News) took shape, kept the country informed, and created a hefty sense of internal pride. They are trying to restore that pride. For nostalgia's sake, I certainly hope the company has their day once more.
D-O-D-G-E-R-S TEAM, TEAM, TEAM, TEAM...
What a mess. And I'm not just talking about their play on the field (we'll get to that later). In January of 2004, when Frank McCourt first stood before a press gaggle as "owner" of the Dodgers, I was listening to Big Joe McDonnell one of the most cogent and accurate sports voices in L.A. After ten minutes of McCourt, Big Joe went on and surmised that the guy was full of it, and that his highly leveraged acquisition of the team would lead to nothing but trouble. Did I say Joe's thoughts were cogent and accurate? In ten minutes he heard what it took Major League Baseball seven years to build a case against. Neither Joe nor MLB could have known that Frank and Jamie McCourt would have a messy divorce, but no one needs a crystal ball to have seen how they used the money gleaned from the teams assets.
After the Los Angeles Times reported that McCourt had to borrow 30 million to meet the Dodgers April payroll, Commissioner Bud Selig swooped in at last. They won't call it receivership, but what other term would one use when you take control of a franchise away from an owner?
For his part, McCourt has been on a media blitz, talking to any and every one with an open microphone...sort of like Charlie Sheen without the Tiger's Blood or the porn stars...trying desperately to win a public relations offensive based on flash, not substance. Guess what team won't meet payroll again, this month? Mr. McCourt should, for the sake of this great ball club, give up the ghost and cash out. There are any number of names with deep, deep pockets and community cache who would bring the luster back to Chavez Ravine--on and off the field.
The horrific beating of Giant fan Brian Stow has really cast a pawl over the start of the season. For reasons I've yet to determine, this incident resonated more than the killing of a Giant fan in the parking lot a few years ago, or the stabbing death of a fan outside Angel Stadium in Anaheim in 2009. It may well be because Mr. Stow was an EMT, and it was his life's work to come to the aid of his fellow man. It may also be that Dodger fans are fed up with whom they have to share the stadium with. It's been a poorly kept secret that fights have been a frequent occurrence in both outfield pavilions at Dodger Stadium, and in the Field level corners by the foul poles. That's where, in 2000, I saw a Giant fan pop a beach ball, hand his eye-glasses to his wife, then head into the aisle to meet four punks in Dodger-garb. They swarmed the Giant fan like they were back on the prison yard. And those not engaged in the beat-down looked on--some with toddlers seated on their shoulders so the kids could see the fight. It sickened me. It's been eleven years, and I still won't buy tickets in those sections.
Whoever purchases the Dodgers once MLB takes full control and kicks McCourt to the curb for certain, will have the money to make the team and the stadium experience much better. Even before Mr. Stow was attacked, and long before the Commissioner castrated Frank's ownership, I viewed the guys on the field as doomed to mediocrity-- nothing better than a .500 season looms. I wish I weren't right, but injuries and some obvious needs make the 2011 Dodgers worthy of all the empty seats you see at the stadium. Aside from Andre Ethier and Matt Kemp, L.A. is ordinary. Clayton Kershaw's curve is amazing, but, like his right-handed counterpart, Chad Bilingsley, there's usually one inconsistent inning per game that staves off greatness.
In short,(and mostly because McCourt has no money) they let their catcher, Russell Martin go, rather than pay him like a veteran. The Yankees are very happy to have him, as they cruise first place in the American League East. L.A. needs more punch at first base, a younger third baseman, an RBI man in left field, an established ace to lead the pitching staff, and a true closer, because Big Jon Broxton will give us all heart attacks, even when his elbow is healthy. McCourt's penny-pinching has a hand in all this. And yes, regardless of his performance-enhancing-drugs embarrassment, there would never have been a Mannywood, and the exciting close to 2008, had the Red Sox not paid all of Ramirez remaining salary for that season. The Dodgers got him free, essentially. Then they paid him...and he promptly got caught.
Steve Garvey says he's lined up two deep-pocketed investors. Rumors abound that the hallowed former owner of the Dodgers, Peter O'Malley, would come back to run the team with the right money behind him. Magic Johnson is interested in putting together a consortium. Mark Cuban, owner of the NBA Dallas Mavericks is always looking to own a baseball team. There are options, here, to putting the Dodgers back on top. My Blue Blood is up! I hope something happens before the team has to play in front of no one but cleaning crews.
WHAT THE HELL IS SO REAL ABOUT REALITY?
I'm fed up with the talent shows, amateur hours, and anything that entails people performing a task, then being judged by three to four effete, supercilious entities who either weep for the poor varlots, or revel in their own superiority. These shows are relatively cheap to produce, and viewers are watching in droves. This perplexes me, because it means not too many share my viewing habits (speaking of reality shows-- ten years ago, who would have guessed Christina Aguilera and Kelly Osbourne would swap physiques? But I digress...). Folks, you are missing some funny shows:
Community, NBC Thursday, 8pm--You want laughs, you got 'em. Chevy Case hasn't been this amusing since Christmas Vacation.
The Office, NBC Thursday, 9pm--Steve Carell is gone, but he began to annoy me, anyway. The other characters are funny enough to carry the day.
Parks And Recreation, NBC Thursday 9:30pm -- In the mold of The Office. Amy Poehler has never been funnier. Rashida Jones is lovely and a great comedic actress. Like tThe Office, the other outrageous characters will both appall and amuse.
30 Rock, NBC, Thursday 10pm---Getting a little long in the tooth, but Tina Fey is a great writer. Alec Baldwin's comic timing is a true gift. The first few Emmy-winning seasons were the best.
Modern Family, ABC, Wednesday 9pm -- Again, like The Office and Parks and Recreation, filmed in documentary style, the writing here is crisp and never fails to deliver. Even if you have no sense of humor, Sofia Vergara is worth a look...or a good healthy stare!
Cougar Town ABC, Wednesday 9:30pm -- I feel like I'm the only person watching this. I'd rather laugh at a bunch of borderline boozers than absorb the pursuit of a mutilating serial killer on the competing Criminal Minds, or try and guess if evil will prevail on whatever verison of Law and Order that NBC is offering, these days. The mind behind Scrubs is the mind behind Cougar Town. That's enough for me, and Courteny Cox is holding up quite well, thank you.
...and the Dramas...
NCIS, CBS, Tuesday 8pm-- The humor, the camaraderie, Cote De Pablo? It's frequently the highest rated drama for a reason. And it holds its own against American Idol! Seacrest, OUT!!
The Good Wife, CBS Tuesday, 10pm -- The best written drama on TV. The casting is perfect. I've been a fan of Juliana Margulies since her days on ER. Some have called this a woman's show, but then they call every program that doesn't entail explosions "a woman's show." It has story arcs, yes, but there's nothing soapy about it. Watch an episode and tell me it's not superior to an hour of Trump browbeating
D-list celebrity messes.
Hawaii Five-O CBS, Monday 10pm, and Harry's Law, NBC, Monday 10pm-- Record one and watch the other. Hawaii Five-o had a tough task trying to re imagine a classic. With its casting and action sequences, I don't think Hawaiians will come to hate it as they did Jack Lord and the original, back in the late 60's/early 70's. As for Harry's Law, it's a David E, Kelly creation,which means quirky characters and peerless scripts. NBC will bring it back this Fall, for sure. Remember when they were the network that surmised everyone needed an hour of Jay Leno each weeknight at ten? See? We, as viewers, do have the power to stop corporate greed: stop watching shit!
AND FINALLY, A DOG DAY AFTERNOON
The last observation for May came as I tooled down the road between the mall and the former location of an Armstrong's Nursery. Call it a "Scene from the Suburbs": To my right was a grassy berm, in lieu of a sidewalk. In all of seven seconds, I saw a stunning woman, tightly wrapped in spandex and sneakers, wearing a visor just above her Sophia Loren-sized sunglasses, her pony tale bobbing around. In her right hand was a lime green plastic bag, in her left, the leash that controlled a beautiful Golden Retriever. As this good-looking lady jogged in place, the Golden Retriever assumed the position atop the berm, haunches quivering, face twitching, body shivering--it's as if this poor animal were trying to pass a Heisman Trophy! During these short, seven seconds of life, it occurred to me that this sexy woman, devoted, ready and willing to pick up after her distressed beast, would do anything for her dog--yet had neglected to put more fiber in his diet.
And no, I didn't look back to see if he'd "...made for mommy."
Thanks for your attention, and for more, check out my other blog at Lamediawatch.com, a new media sight from the imagination of Sky Walker. Click on "LAMEDIABLOG" for the story of "The Bag Man," a hilarious true to life radio tale of dead air and galloping gonads.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
A BAD CASE OF THE "WHAT IFs"
We've all done it. Everyone has played "Kreskin" with our lives or historical events. Or, wondered, as Yogi Berra might put it, "What would have happened if what happened didn't happen?"
One-time speech writer and long-time Journalist Jeff Greenfield has put himself in front of a crystal ball and tried to determine the "what ifs" from our political landscape, and how our destinies would have been affected, in his new book, "Then Everything Changed." It's interesting fiction, and disturbing in some ways. Greenfield takes three events from the last 50 years and fleshes out what he imagines would have been the result: If what happened...hadn't happened. Without spoiling the plots, I'll just go over the events.
Greenfield reveals that a second-thought by a twisted mind really did prevent John F. Kennedy from behind blown up by a suicide bomber, as he left for church in Palm Beach, Florida, December 11, 1960. The would-be bomber didn't want to harm Jackie, who'd accompanied the then-President-Elect to the front door of their winter home, holding the new-born JFK, Jr.. Few were aware of this event, including historian Robert Dallek, who published a definitive JFK biography in 2003. Greenfield uses his immense political knowledge to fictionalize what might have been, had the bomber gone through with his plot, annihilated JFK, and left the country without a President-elect.
The second event under the microscope is the assassination of Robert Kennedy. What if RFK's brother-in-law, Stephen Smith, had been walking in front of Bobby, as he usually did, when the victorious candidate entered the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel, June 4, 1968? What if he'd prevented Sirhan Bashera Sirhan from hitting his target?
The third destiny-altering speculation considers the 1976 debate between Democrat Jimmy carter, and Republican President Gerald Ford. What if Ford had recanted or clarified his off-handed comment that there "...would be no Soviet domination of Poland and Czechoslovakia under a Ford Administration." In truth, the comment put his campaign in damage-control mode, and stopped Ford's climb in the polls--just long enough for Carter to eventually eek out an electoral win. What if?
Greenfield's tome is fictional food for thought. Entertaining, sometimes outlandish, and in the case of what would have taken place had there not been a JFK administration, depressing. But, as with his political reporting for ABC, CNN and CBS over 40 years, his book is well considered, and excellently put to paper. It gave me an idea of my own, as all my reading material does: What would have happened had comedy, drama, and variety on radio survived the onslaught of television? What if there had not been the need to employ announcers to spin records? Had there been no such profession as the Disc Jockey? This one gives me pause. But if Jeff Greenfield can wonder aloud how a President Lyndon Johnson would have handled the Cuban missile crisis, surely I can conjecture a world without disc jockeys (the way my career has gone these last three years, the world's damned near been without THIS one!).
First of all, the birth of Rock and Roll would have been protracted. The crossover of R&B would have taken a great deal more time without a medium through which the music could be heard regularly. The social ramifications of this are almost too ponderous to explore in one sitting. What can be determined is...what would have become of the Disc Jockey?
That's easy. The talented, the greats, the legends, would still have been enormous successes in broadcasting. The age of comedy, drama and variety on radio was a tremendous playground for dialecticians and enunciators. By the early 1950's when the era was on the wane, Jack Webb was striving for more "natural" actors. Radio would have continued to create work for performers of all kinds who actually had the goods.
Now--what of the cavalcade of dumbshits, babblers, con artists and sex predators who helped heap shovelful after shovelful of dirt on disc jockeying, through their idiocy and marginal talent? The recipients of nepotism, cronyism, payola, plugola and practitioners of ethics that make Bernie Madoff look like Mohandas Ghandi? What of them? These are the folk who made it possible for consultants and programmers to comb through data, and rationalize that radio is better as background, etc. These are individuals who got wealthy by accident of fate. What would these people have done with themselves if they'd needed another venue for their deft application of office politics?
Hmmm. I can imagine a cluster of big-voiced buffoons auditioning to be Ronald McDonald in some local community. Or as clowns at children's parties (God help the kids!). Bellowing imbeciles warbling "Itsy-Bitsy Spider," to frightened boys and girls, who would, in turn, beg their moms and dads to whisk them from the presence of this narcissistic specter!
I can imagine a plethora of used car salesmen, telemarketers, and loud-mouths engaging in fisticuffs over infomercial hosting jobs. Alas, there would be precious few Doctors, engineers or rocket scientists with deep voices. In some cases, the number of interior decorators would overwhelm the market! And, sadly, welfare rolls would have increased incrementally...had there never been a need for disc jockeys.
In the end, though, what we have is a talent like Jeff Greenfield to come up with a fascinating premise for a novel, and entertain us by musing, "What if?"
One-time speech writer and long-time Journalist Jeff Greenfield has put himself in front of a crystal ball and tried to determine the "what ifs" from our political landscape, and how our destinies would have been affected, in his new book, "Then Everything Changed." It's interesting fiction, and disturbing in some ways. Greenfield takes three events from the last 50 years and fleshes out what he imagines would have been the result: If what happened...hadn't happened. Without spoiling the plots, I'll just go over the events.
Greenfield reveals that a second-thought by a twisted mind really did prevent John F. Kennedy from behind blown up by a suicide bomber, as he left for church in Palm Beach, Florida, December 11, 1960. The would-be bomber didn't want to harm Jackie, who'd accompanied the then-President-Elect to the front door of their winter home, holding the new-born JFK, Jr.. Few were aware of this event, including historian Robert Dallek, who published a definitive JFK biography in 2003. Greenfield uses his immense political knowledge to fictionalize what might have been, had the bomber gone through with his plot, annihilated JFK, and left the country without a President-elect.
The second event under the microscope is the assassination of Robert Kennedy. What if RFK's brother-in-law, Stephen Smith, had been walking in front of Bobby, as he usually did, when the victorious candidate entered the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel, June 4, 1968? What if he'd prevented Sirhan Bashera Sirhan from hitting his target?
The third destiny-altering speculation considers the 1976 debate between Democrat Jimmy carter, and Republican President Gerald Ford. What if Ford had recanted or clarified his off-handed comment that there "...would be no Soviet domination of Poland and Czechoslovakia under a Ford Administration." In truth, the comment put his campaign in damage-control mode, and stopped Ford's climb in the polls--just long enough for Carter to eventually eek out an electoral win. What if?
Greenfield's tome is fictional food for thought. Entertaining, sometimes outlandish, and in the case of what would have taken place had there not been a JFK administration, depressing. But, as with his political reporting for ABC, CNN and CBS over 40 years, his book is well considered, and excellently put to paper. It gave me an idea of my own, as all my reading material does: What would have happened had comedy, drama, and variety on radio survived the onslaught of television? What if there had not been the need to employ announcers to spin records? Had there been no such profession as the Disc Jockey? This one gives me pause. But if Jeff Greenfield can wonder aloud how a President Lyndon Johnson would have handled the Cuban missile crisis, surely I can conjecture a world without disc jockeys (the way my career has gone these last three years, the world's damned near been without THIS one!).
First of all, the birth of Rock and Roll would have been protracted. The crossover of R&B would have taken a great deal more time without a medium through which the music could be heard regularly. The social ramifications of this are almost too ponderous to explore in one sitting. What can be determined is...what would have become of the Disc Jockey?
That's easy. The talented, the greats, the legends, would still have been enormous successes in broadcasting. The age of comedy, drama and variety on radio was a tremendous playground for dialecticians and enunciators. By the early 1950's when the era was on the wane, Jack Webb was striving for more "natural" actors. Radio would have continued to create work for performers of all kinds who actually had the goods.
Now--what of the cavalcade of dumbshits, babblers, con artists and sex predators who helped heap shovelful after shovelful of dirt on disc jockeying, through their idiocy and marginal talent? The recipients of nepotism, cronyism, payola, plugola and practitioners of ethics that make Bernie Madoff look like Mohandas Ghandi? What of them? These are the folk who made it possible for consultants and programmers to comb through data, and rationalize that radio is better as background, etc. These are individuals who got wealthy by accident of fate. What would these people have done with themselves if they'd needed another venue for their deft application of office politics?
Hmmm. I can imagine a cluster of big-voiced buffoons auditioning to be Ronald McDonald in some local community. Or as clowns at children's parties (God help the kids!). Bellowing imbeciles warbling "Itsy-Bitsy Spider," to frightened boys and girls, who would, in turn, beg their moms and dads to whisk them from the presence of this narcissistic specter!
I can imagine a plethora of used car salesmen, telemarketers, and loud-mouths engaging in fisticuffs over infomercial hosting jobs. Alas, there would be precious few Doctors, engineers or rocket scientists with deep voices. In some cases, the number of interior decorators would overwhelm the market! And, sadly, welfare rolls would have increased incrementally...had there never been a need for disc jockeys.
As for me? It's hard to think I could have had even less success doing something else. I would never had heard The Real Don Steele when I was an adult (hearing him when I was a kid doesn't count). I wouldn't have veered from sports to music presentation, and maybe would have been spared the occasional sociopath or megalomaniac as a direct supervisor. Who knows? I would have tried to write. We can never have any idea.
In the end, though, what we have is a talent like Jeff Greenfield to come up with a fascinating premise for a novel, and entertain us by musing, "What if?"
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
FREAKS AND CELEBRITY SLOP
As long as human beings have lived in communities, there have always been what we've colloquially (and not endearingly) called "freaks." From the village idiot to the court fool, from the afflicted to the deranged, these poor, misbegotten creatures have been the spectacles that drew mixed amounts of fascination, merriment and scorn.
P.T. Barnum made a fortune trotting out what were then called pinheads, bearded ladies, limbless souls, Siamese twins, all for perusal, derision, revulsion, and the almighty buck.
Society has advanced, thank God. The damaged among us are protected from exploitation by law and the evolution of our thinking. This does not mean our thirst for "freaks" has abated. Not a chance. Not as long as there are celebrities, and as long as money can be made exploiting their human condition.
Cases in point: One Carlos Estevez, AKA Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and the beauteous train-wreck-to-be named Christina Aguilera.
How is watching Charlie Sheen' s recent media blitz any different than answering the call of the Carnival Barker a hundred years ago, paying ten cents, and gaping at the Elephant Man? If Charlie weren't a wealthy, famous celebrity, we'd refer to him as that loadie, that perve, or, more kindly, "...that eccentric guy down the street with two broads. " We'd say he's crazy. We'd say he needs help. Since he's Charlie, most of us just watch the meltdown like the TV show it is, and wait for the pay-off. And once it happens, and Sheen disappears into either treatment or the abyss, our curiosity will take us somewhere else. Our curiosity--aided and abetted by the breathless reporting on all forms of media.
Should we feel remorse for our voyeurism? Should we point out that in the 1800's, families used to pack a picnic lunch to attend hangings? Is it our responsibility to police our primal urge to leer at the less fortunate, or that of the modern day P.T. Barnums of our world to sacrifice ratings, internet hits, and the priceless word of mouth gained by keeping Charlie's public pain in our faces?
He's hard to miss. There's a quote that describes Sheen's ubiquitousness over these last few days. It's what the late New York Yankee manager Ralph Houk said to a then-unknown sports reporter named Howard Cosell, in 1961: "You're like shit--you're everywhere." In this case, it's both Charlie, those willing to exploit him, and those of us eager to watch, that are everywhere... and feeling shitty about it.
Unlike Barnum's Freaks, some celebrities learn to make the exploitation work for them. Fifty years ago, Lindsay Lohan would have been disgraced and treated as radioactive. Today? Well, no, she can't land an acting job, but her perp-walks into court are carried live on local TV stations and cable networks. Can a young woman get the help she needs if she knows it will result in less attention?
Britney Spears has been largely off the radar since her celebrated breakdown. It's hard to forget, though, that she'd lost it, grabbed a pair of clippers and turned herself into Curly from the Three Stooges, a few years ago. At the time, her former Mickey Mouse Club mate, Christina Aguilera, shook her head and offered platitudes about Britney's behavior.
Judge not lest ye be judged, right? A few years have passed, and now it's Christina screaming for help--and a lot more distinctly than she sang the national anthem!
Miss Aguilera's is a case that draws our focus more sharply because she is so incredibly beautiful, and blessed with a voice that can make buildings shake. Sadly, Christina's public problems have been pushing on her fault-lines in wait of a quake. If her singing rattles buildings, her probable meltdown will make the structures tumble.
This is a woman gifted as a young child, who witnessed an abusive father in action, and took the bullying of classmates jealous of her precocious talent. This is personal baggage that gets unloaded publicly when fame and fortune manifest themselves. The results are predictable--young, lithe, pretty beyond reason, she was drawn to (and exploited by) older guys who could administer the maintenance she demanded--the maintenance that made her (according to a long list of people who've dealt with her) very difficult to work with.
You could see it in the succession of albums. Then the "Dirrty" video, the metal studs marring a face with porcelain features; marriage, a baby...the tabloid tidbits about wild sexual appetites...divorce, a new boyfriend not nearly as rich and famous as she was, and then the drinking. The drinking presaged the fiasco with the national anthem at the Super Bowl, the copious weight gain, and the tumble taken at the Grammy Awards.
Her now legendary difficulty has made it impossible for many to feel empathy. And it is only the antics of Charlie Sheen that have kept her arrest Tuesday morning from becoming a more full blown media event. The L.A. County Sheriff's Department only took her into custody for the night because they'd arrested her boyfriend on a DUI, and she was just too incapacitated to move.
Too drunk to take care of herself. Screwing up "The Star Spangled Banner" is one thing, a reason to snicker at her and view as just desserts for her being a difficult person. Drinking oneself into imbecility, however, doesn't happen without reason.
We'll watch, we'll behold, and cluck our tongues. Most of us will find within us the hope that Christina, Charlie and Lindsay will eventually entertain us with their talent, again...and not their desperation. It is a faustian bargain, the quest for fame.
P.T. Barnum made a fortune trotting out what were then called pinheads, bearded ladies, limbless souls, Siamese twins, all for perusal, derision, revulsion, and the almighty buck.
Society has advanced, thank God. The damaged among us are protected from exploitation by law and the evolution of our thinking. This does not mean our thirst for "freaks" has abated. Not a chance. Not as long as there are celebrities, and as long as money can be made exploiting their human condition.
Cases in point: One Carlos Estevez, AKA Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and the beauteous train-wreck-to-be named Christina Aguilera.
How is watching Charlie Sheen' s recent media blitz any different than answering the call of the Carnival Barker a hundred years ago, paying ten cents, and gaping at the Elephant Man? If Charlie weren't a wealthy, famous celebrity, we'd refer to him as that loadie, that perve, or, more kindly, "...that eccentric guy down the street with two broads. " We'd say he's crazy. We'd say he needs help. Since he's Charlie, most of us just watch the meltdown like the TV show it is, and wait for the pay-off. And once it happens, and Sheen disappears into either treatment or the abyss, our curiosity will take us somewhere else. Our curiosity--aided and abetted by the breathless reporting on all forms of media.
Should we feel remorse for our voyeurism? Should we point out that in the 1800's, families used to pack a picnic lunch to attend hangings? Is it our responsibility to police our primal urge to leer at the less fortunate, or that of the modern day P.T. Barnums of our world to sacrifice ratings, internet hits, and the priceless word of mouth gained by keeping Charlie's public pain in our faces?
He's hard to miss. There's a quote that describes Sheen's ubiquitousness over these last few days. It's what the late New York Yankee manager Ralph Houk said to a then-unknown sports reporter named Howard Cosell, in 1961: "You're like shit--you're everywhere." In this case, it's both Charlie, those willing to exploit him, and those of us eager to watch, that are everywhere... and feeling shitty about it.
Unlike Barnum's Freaks, some celebrities learn to make the exploitation work for them. Fifty years ago, Lindsay Lohan would have been disgraced and treated as radioactive. Today? Well, no, she can't land an acting job, but her perp-walks into court are carried live on local TV stations and cable networks. Can a young woman get the help she needs if she knows it will result in less attention?
Britney Spears has been largely off the radar since her celebrated breakdown. It's hard to forget, though, that she'd lost it, grabbed a pair of clippers and turned herself into Curly from the Three Stooges, a few years ago. At the time, her former Mickey Mouse Club mate, Christina Aguilera, shook her head and offered platitudes about Britney's behavior.
Judge not lest ye be judged, right? A few years have passed, and now it's Christina screaming for help--and a lot more distinctly than she sang the national anthem!
Miss Aguilera's is a case that draws our focus more sharply because she is so incredibly beautiful, and blessed with a voice that can make buildings shake. Sadly, Christina's public problems have been pushing on her fault-lines in wait of a quake. If her singing rattles buildings, her probable meltdown will make the structures tumble.
This is a woman gifted as a young child, who witnessed an abusive father in action, and took the bullying of classmates jealous of her precocious talent. This is personal baggage that gets unloaded publicly when fame and fortune manifest themselves. The results are predictable--young, lithe, pretty beyond reason, she was drawn to (and exploited by) older guys who could administer the maintenance she demanded--the maintenance that made her (according to a long list of people who've dealt with her) very difficult to work with.
You could see it in the succession of albums. Then the "Dirrty" video, the metal studs marring a face with porcelain features; marriage, a baby...the tabloid tidbits about wild sexual appetites...divorce, a new boyfriend not nearly as rich and famous as she was, and then the drinking. The drinking presaged the fiasco with the national anthem at the Super Bowl, the copious weight gain, and the tumble taken at the Grammy Awards.
Her now legendary difficulty has made it impossible for many to feel empathy. And it is only the antics of Charlie Sheen that have kept her arrest Tuesday morning from becoming a more full blown media event. The L.A. County Sheriff's Department only took her into custody for the night because they'd arrested her boyfriend on a DUI, and she was just too incapacitated to move.
Too drunk to take care of herself. Screwing up "The Star Spangled Banner" is one thing, a reason to snicker at her and view as just desserts for her being a difficult person. Drinking oneself into imbecility, however, doesn't happen without reason.
We'll watch, we'll behold, and cluck our tongues. Most of us will find within us the hope that Christina, Charlie and Lindsay will eventually entertain us with their talent, again...and not their desperation. It is a faustian bargain, the quest for fame.
Monday, February 14, 2011
FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK...
The results are in. It should be no surprise that the question I posed in the previous post produced exactly the results I expected.
Question: Do you still like humor in the presentation of your favorite songs on the radio? No scientific methods at work, here. No perceptuals, no pollster like Pat Caddell, no equations or word manipulations from a Frank Luntz--just a very informal question with some varied, but like-minded answers. All of them, predictably, in the affirmative. It might well have been informative to find someone who is so addled they don't enjoy humor on the radio, but then I'd have to reach out more to people so distraught they can't conceive of (or handle) anything thing but a morose, funereal presentation of the music. Unless, of course, we are being deceived. That would account for the ratings that keep stations with a "no humor policy" in big business. I suspect, as is the case with questions prepared for a political poll, it's how the query is posed. I'll return to that point after a look at what you have to say.
Radio veterans replied most to my question. George in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley was very brief with his answer: "Funny jocks aren't getting jobs." It's true.
Mark in San Diego left his view in the comments section, here. "As long as it's not drop your pants type humor." In presenting music, I agree. The edgy stuff is more apropos to morning shows, and not necessarily while riffing over a song intro aimed at women ages 25-54.
Kevin in Long Beach has more to say on this, in his comment. Click comments to read it in its entirety. In short, he says the business is in a spiral toward "never ending suicide."
From Brooklyn, New York, Bill writes, "Sure, the wit enhances the presentation. I've known non-radio people who will remember for YEARS a silly crack made by some guy on the air, and the guy who made it. A well-placed zinger in the middle of the formatics goes right to the bulls eye with the guy on the street. Slick programmers [though] have trouble with non-funny [jocks] trying to be funny, and typically overreact to creative content. Of course, the genuinely talented guys on the staff are then unfairly restricted. That problem has to do with the programmer's taste and intelligence...a whole different issue.
"Sure. great radio humor is as important today as ever. Pity, however, the funny performer who's career is controlled by an administrator who is intimidated by the guy's talent. The manner in which that administrator can short-circuit a man's future is decidedly UNfunny."
I've personally found out how true that can be!
Darryl in North County, San Diego, says its a problem throughout the entertainment business: "I'm of the mind that well thought out and clever/intellectual humor MUST be part of any decent broadcast. Station programmer/management types and so called "consultants" have ruined the radio markets with forced and monotonous playlists.
How could they have any idea about what radio audiences want with the inaccurate means of ratings measurement currently in use? Consider, it is they who have conditioned the minds of listeners to the degree of having no taste or actual opinions. The result?
The music industry, in keeping with similar schools of thought, has taken part in stifling true creativity and talent in favor of manufactured, gimmick-laden music, with no lasting or redeeming qualities whatsoever."
Ouch! True...and the subject of another blog at a future date that should inspire some realllly lively conversation!
John in the state of Washington touches on what Bill observed--that an unfunny jock, unlike the proverbial bad apple, can rot the barrel for us all.
"...I'm pretty sure the reason, in regard to radio, that people would say that they don't want to hear humor [in the presentation of music] is because so much of the humor tossed out on the air is bad...'hey, there's a traffic jam on the 405...well, they must be listening to ME...hahhahahahah...' and worse. It's often so bad, that's it's truly embarrassing, and as a listener, you can't help but want to turn the station or put in a CD.
Radio takes ordinary people and makes them think they are instant experts. A guy who used to sell cars gets a radio sales job and becomes an overnight expert on advertising and the song selection of a given format. A former fast-food worker gets an internship which leads to a board op position [one responsible for what's on the air, executes the elements, but doesn't ordinarily open the microphone], then gets to do the weather on air and suddenly they're a comedian. From there they go to work at a talk station, become instant experts on politics, or become part of the morning show on a music station and 'presto,' they're an expert on love relationships...oh...and they are also a comedian...."
Strong opinions, here.
A former programmer tells us radio is slowly squeezing itself into non-relevance by leaving its strengths, as MTV did. His post is here in the comments section, and speaks to the point: It's pretty much up to the programmer to insure that the station (the jocks) compels return visits by listeners...and well-placed humor is a part of the "personality" that makes them come back.
Finally, Dave in Woodland Hills pointed out that because of consolidation, companies have figured out a strategy that makes virtually everything said between (or over) song intros relate to the station, a current contest, or tease of what's coming in the next few minutes. And this should be constant. We've seen this on TV news, when the teases for a particular story about, say, side-effects of mixing Viagra and Flintstone vitamins, will add up to more air time than the actual story itself. To certain programmers, this squeezes humor off the agenda, even though talented jocks could toss off the tease in a very funny way.
All of this input is dead-on. No one wants ill-prepared jocks filling the air with attempts at humor that drives us to hit the seek button on the car radio. Yet declaring humor a felony inappropriately, regardless of what skewed statistics say, goes agin the human grain. Yes humor is subjective, but man has been laughing out loud since the earliest Neanderthal slipped on a banana peel. How hilarious it must have been to see that hairy bastard flying feet first and landing on his arse! I love a story told by author Robert Metz in his 1979 book, The Tonight Show, which chronicled the rise of the NBC show and offered a brief history of comedy's place in our world. In examining the path to be trod by Steve Allen, Jack Paar and Johnny Carson, Metz wrote of the fourteenth century German comic master, Til Eulenspiegel:
"Til was cruel in exercising his wit. In the village of Budenstetten, he was engaged by a parish priest with whom he was constantly in and out of trouble as he practiced his merry pranks--including a gross maneuver which caused the priest to relieve himself during mass. As stage manager of the Easter play, he situated an old foe, the priest's venerable chambermaid, at the tomb of Jesus to play the angel of the Lord. Til and two peasants took the parts of the three Marys. When the chambermaid-angel asked "Whom do you seek?" one of the peasants, on instructions from Eulenspiegel replied, "We are looking for an old, one-eyed concubine belonging to the priest." In the uproar that followed, Til was once more forced to flee."
I wonder how Til Eulenspiegel would have fared presenting music on the radio in 2011? Methinks he'd, once more, be forced to flee.
We love to laugh and make each other laugh. No one, from Captain Bligh to his current day, media counterparts, should forsake us that right--especially over the radio.
Question: Do you still like humor in the presentation of your favorite songs on the radio? No scientific methods at work, here. No perceptuals, no pollster like Pat Caddell, no equations or word manipulations from a Frank Luntz--just a very informal question with some varied, but like-minded answers. All of them, predictably, in the affirmative. It might well have been informative to find someone who is so addled they don't enjoy humor on the radio, but then I'd have to reach out more to people so distraught they can't conceive of (or handle) anything thing but a morose, funereal presentation of the music. Unless, of course, we are being deceived. That would account for the ratings that keep stations with a "no humor policy" in big business. I suspect, as is the case with questions prepared for a political poll, it's how the query is posed. I'll return to that point after a look at what you have to say.
Radio veterans replied most to my question. George in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley was very brief with his answer: "Funny jocks aren't getting jobs." It's true.
Mark in San Diego left his view in the comments section, here. "As long as it's not drop your pants type humor." In presenting music, I agree. The edgy stuff is more apropos to morning shows, and not necessarily while riffing over a song intro aimed at women ages 25-54.
Kevin in Long Beach has more to say on this, in his comment. Click comments to read it in its entirety. In short, he says the business is in a spiral toward "never ending suicide."
From Brooklyn, New York, Bill writes, "Sure, the wit enhances the presentation. I've known non-radio people who will remember for YEARS a silly crack made by some guy on the air, and the guy who made it. A well-placed zinger in the middle of the formatics goes right to the bulls eye with the guy on the street. Slick programmers [though] have trouble with non-funny [jocks] trying to be funny, and typically overreact to creative content. Of course, the genuinely talented guys on the staff are then unfairly restricted. That problem has to do with the programmer's taste and intelligence...a whole different issue.
"Sure. great radio humor is as important today as ever. Pity, however, the funny performer who's career is controlled by an administrator who is intimidated by the guy's talent. The manner in which that administrator can short-circuit a man's future is decidedly UNfunny."
I've personally found out how true that can be!
Darryl in North County, San Diego, says its a problem throughout the entertainment business: "I'm of the mind that well thought out and clever/intellectual humor MUST be part of any decent broadcast. Station programmer/management types and so called "consultants" have ruined the radio markets with forced and monotonous playlists.
How could they have any idea about what radio audiences want with the inaccurate means of ratings measurement currently in use? Consider, it is they who have conditioned the minds of listeners to the degree of having no taste or actual opinions. The result?
The music industry, in keeping with similar schools of thought, has taken part in stifling true creativity and talent in favor of manufactured, gimmick-laden music, with no lasting or redeeming qualities whatsoever."
Ouch! True...and the subject of another blog at a future date that should inspire some realllly lively conversation!
John in the state of Washington touches on what Bill observed--that an unfunny jock, unlike the proverbial bad apple, can rot the barrel for us all.
"...I'm pretty sure the reason, in regard to radio, that people would say that they don't want to hear humor [in the presentation of music] is because so much of the humor tossed out on the air is bad...'hey, there's a traffic jam on the 405...well, they must be listening to ME...hahhahahahah...' and worse. It's often so bad, that's it's truly embarrassing, and as a listener, you can't help but want to turn the station or put in a CD.
Radio takes ordinary people and makes them think they are instant experts. A guy who used to sell cars gets a radio sales job and becomes an overnight expert on advertising and the song selection of a given format. A former fast-food worker gets an internship which leads to a board op position [one responsible for what's on the air, executes the elements, but doesn't ordinarily open the microphone], then gets to do the weather on air and suddenly they're a comedian. From there they go to work at a talk station, become instant experts on politics, or become part of the morning show on a music station and 'presto,' they're an expert on love relationships...oh...and they are also a comedian...."
Strong opinions, here.
A former programmer tells us radio is slowly squeezing itself into non-relevance by leaving its strengths, as MTV did. His post is here in the comments section, and speaks to the point: It's pretty much up to the programmer to insure that the station (the jocks) compels return visits by listeners...and well-placed humor is a part of the "personality" that makes them come back.
Finally, Dave in Woodland Hills pointed out that because of consolidation, companies have figured out a strategy that makes virtually everything said between (or over) song intros relate to the station, a current contest, or tease of what's coming in the next few minutes. And this should be constant. We've seen this on TV news, when the teases for a particular story about, say, side-effects of mixing Viagra and Flintstone vitamins, will add up to more air time than the actual story itself. To certain programmers, this squeezes humor off the agenda, even though talented jocks could toss off the tease in a very funny way.
All of this input is dead-on. No one wants ill-prepared jocks filling the air with attempts at humor that drives us to hit the seek button on the car radio. Yet declaring humor a felony inappropriately, regardless of what skewed statistics say, goes agin the human grain. Yes humor is subjective, but man has been laughing out loud since the earliest Neanderthal slipped on a banana peel. How hilarious it must have been to see that hairy bastard flying feet first and landing on his arse! I love a story told by author Robert Metz in his 1979 book, The Tonight Show, which chronicled the rise of the NBC show and offered a brief history of comedy's place in our world. In examining the path to be trod by Steve Allen, Jack Paar and Johnny Carson, Metz wrote of the fourteenth century German comic master, Til Eulenspiegel:
"Til was cruel in exercising his wit. In the village of Budenstetten, he was engaged by a parish priest with whom he was constantly in and out of trouble as he practiced his merry pranks--including a gross maneuver which caused the priest to relieve himself during mass. As stage manager of the Easter play, he situated an old foe, the priest's venerable chambermaid, at the tomb of Jesus to play the angel of the Lord. Til and two peasants took the parts of the three Marys. When the chambermaid-angel asked "Whom do you seek?" one of the peasants, on instructions from Eulenspiegel replied, "We are looking for an old, one-eyed concubine belonging to the priest." In the uproar that followed, Til was once more forced to flee."
I wonder how Til Eulenspiegel would have fared presenting music on the radio in 2011? Methinks he'd, once more, be forced to flee.
We love to laugh and make each other laugh. No one, from Captain Bligh to his current day, media counterparts, should forsake us that right--especially over the radio.
Monday, February 7, 2011
ANSWER ME THIS...
I've had a thousand thoughts and opinions rumble through my head since I last updated this blog. It is true, I probably won't drone on about politics very much, anymore. As much a s I would contribute to the national discussion, I'd rather make you laugh, or inquire your opinions. Most of the comments to my blogs have been spam from overseas websites of...dubious nature.
This month I'd really like some answers from everyone who reads my blathering and blithering. Because I need an answer.
"The Radio" has been my career for three decades, now. For those of you who share this profession, a long recounting of what has changed in broadcasting (and changed for the worst) is not necessary. And those who are in the business also know that, to keep working and keep winning, we sometimes adjust our ideas to "go-along and get-along." But I must ask all of you, fellow broadcasters, personalities, friends or just the person who still flips on the radio for a little music or talk:
Do you still like a little humor with the presentation of your favorite songs?
Among the many ways the radio biz has gone south in the last decade has been the purge of humor from the delivery of music. Some of this approach comes from "perceptuals," or "polling" by consultants. The lighter the fare, the less humor. The younger the music...the less humor.
Write a comment to this post if you enjoy a laugh with music as its presented. It's not a real Focus Group, not a scientific poll, but it goes a long way to proving what I believe: That well placed zingers augment the music and enhance the station.
What say you?
This month I'd really like some answers from everyone who reads my blathering and blithering. Because I need an answer.
"The Radio" has been my career for three decades, now. For those of you who share this profession, a long recounting of what has changed in broadcasting (and changed for the worst) is not necessary. And those who are in the business also know that, to keep working and keep winning, we sometimes adjust our ideas to "go-along and get-along." But I must ask all of you, fellow broadcasters, personalities, friends or just the person who still flips on the radio for a little music or talk:
Do you still like a little humor with the presentation of your favorite songs?
Among the many ways the radio biz has gone south in the last decade has been the purge of humor from the delivery of music. Some of this approach comes from "perceptuals," or "polling" by consultants. The lighter the fare, the less humor. The younger the music...the less humor.
Write a comment to this post if you enjoy a laugh with music as its presented. It's not a real Focus Group, not a scientific poll, but it goes a long way to proving what I believe: That well placed zingers augment the music and enhance the station.
What say you?
Friday, September 3, 2010
THE LAST POLITICAL BLOG...FOR A GOOD, LONG WHILE
Either I'm on a path toward more prolonged happiness, or I'm just too fed-up to waste otherwise positive energy ruminating on the operations of the body politic, and media coverage of same.
In days gone past, I would have attributed this to the deep, abiding cynicism that invaded my psyche as a young man. Not now. I look at things too clearly. Instead of the accusatory and judgemental "They," I use the inclusive "we," because every human being is capable of the same lapses and foibles. Not everybody has the fondness for, or sense of history I posses. That's just a personal idiosyncrasy. Just about everyone, however, tends to view politics pejoratively, now...but not for the same reasons.
In my case, it's a realization that the benign civics lessons we try and teach children combine fact and apocryphal. Ours is a republic, with candidates elected to represent our interests, etc. Lifelong immersion in the machinations of government, governing and campaigning for said, reveal a filthy process. Millions remain blissfully ignorant of the dirt, and how the manipulation and exploitation are used to make ordinarily decent people vote against their own interests and the interests of the nation on a whole.
The individuals most susceptible to this are my age--the guy at the half-century mark, frustrated because life hasn't been all he'd hoped it would be. As disappointment, the rigors of child-rearing, divorce, job loss, aging, et al, build up, the interest in politics and the rants begin--against taxes, government, races, genders...issues that they'd never given a living shit about start to make their bile bubble up.
Decent people, by and large. Good human beings who still believe that a candidate or a party embody what they stand for: God, Country, and Family Values, dammit! The salt of the earth, who faithfully absorb the opinion that passes for news or fact, not knowing their inner fears and fires are being cynically stoked, and their religious fervor is being whipped up in a revival tent larger than the Caribbean Sea.
I'm not that guy. At 5-0 plus 1, now, I'm fatigued with having my buttons pushed. I was interested in politics at 13, when at the same age, many of these other fellows were smoking dope and sneaking out of their bedroom windows late at night (there'd have been hell to pay had I tried either). I read Time or Newsweek, watch some of the talking-head shows, and realize the agitation is not worth it. And there is continual agitation. Thirty years of being involved in broadcasting teaches one that all reporting is not intended to be informative. Much is written to churn up a maelstrom. The panel shows are there to pit two ideologues against one another, not to come to a resolution, but to bang heads, cause sparks, and create ratings.
Politics. Inflame and assail. Foment hate and derision. Governing? Stop the other guy by any means necessary. Party loyalty? Republicans found the power of the pulpit 30 years ago. Somehow, in a world of all-too-human hypocrisy, fundamentalism cohabitates with cold ambition and lock-step uniformity. Democrats, liberal, progressive, willing to fight for issues concerning something other than personal gain, show human weakness of their own: They lack the desire to piss off the guys who are being whipped into a frenzy by the Republicans. And the G.O.P. plays offense much better than Democrats play defense. The hostility chip that seems to operate in conservative ideology is not present in liberals, not where politics is concerned. Thus the difference in approaches, and results.
Me? I have watched and read and written of the political world, and have seen a man with actual intelligence elected overwhelmingly to the Presidency. How often can you say that? JFK had those smarts, that charisma. You have to be over 55 to remember his brief years in office, and his assassination obscures the fact that he was cautious about much, stymied by congress, and loathed by crackpots. Imagine if they'd know what he was hiding (poor health, probably sex addiction)?
Does that all sound familiar? JFK had major newspapers and (essentially) two and a half television networks to contend with. President Obama has millions of internet bloggers, and a channel that masquerades as a news organization, while decimating the complete agenda of his opposition (Fox). On cable, at least, objectivity (CNN) means playing devil's advocate. The so-called lefties (MSNBC, after sunset) give Obama grief as well. A cerebral President who uses his scholarly resolve is not popular among the hot-headed motormouths who need a constant vortex whirling to provide content.
The problem is, fellows my age still look at TV and Radio as the voice of official fact and reason. They're neither. They are hell-bent on creating conflict that equals ratings, that equal money. Period. Otherwise, how could broadcasters with a modicum of intelligence take Sarah Palin seriously? The history of popular culture in our country is riddled with characters like her, whose glibness hides an insidious, venal, covetousness. The kind we're told is sinful. How many parents tell their kids to finish what they started? How many of these same parents now worship at the feet of this person who resigned elective office to go make money, then (I'll bet) run for yet a higher office. Do our like minded opinions spin us into denial, as far as politicians are concerned? Do people need a leader to believe in so badly they'll inhale whatever hot air is blown in their direction?
Apparently so. And in a world where ex-Disc Jockeys evolve into talk-show hosts, sometimes appropriating political talking points they don't believe, getting riled up is no longer worth it. I take verapmil and atenlol to control blood pressure. My own radio career is held in limbo, and essentially I'm alone. Is the current body politic (with only the new media making it different from what's gone on in politics since the Roman senate) worth the agitation.
I say no. And look toward a little more happiness in life.
HEY LAAAAAAAAAAADY!!!
Many of you will read this once the holiday is over. You may or may not have seen 84-year old Jerry Lewis cry and drop his pants once more, in his honorable, never-ending, herculean effort to raise funds for the MDA, and find a cure for these dreaded diseases. I no longer watch. Besides getting sick of politics, I've gotten sick of telethons, and would rather send a donation than suffer the maudlin proceedings. Telethons used to be entertaining. Now they use the same marketing techniques as any other business that wants to attack your emotions and separate you from money. I'll send my check (If I don't, Jerry will send envelopes all year, anyway), but will take a pass on the pathos.
In days gone past, I would have attributed this to the deep, abiding cynicism that invaded my psyche as a young man. Not now. I look at things too clearly. Instead of the accusatory and judgemental "They," I use the inclusive "we," because every human being is capable of the same lapses and foibles. Not everybody has the fondness for, or sense of history I posses. That's just a personal idiosyncrasy. Just about everyone, however, tends to view politics pejoratively, now...but not for the same reasons.
In my case, it's a realization that the benign civics lessons we try and teach children combine fact and apocryphal. Ours is a republic, with candidates elected to represent our interests, etc. Lifelong immersion in the machinations of government, governing and campaigning for said, reveal a filthy process. Millions remain blissfully ignorant of the dirt, and how the manipulation and exploitation are used to make ordinarily decent people vote against their own interests and the interests of the nation on a whole.
The individuals most susceptible to this are my age--the guy at the half-century mark, frustrated because life hasn't been all he'd hoped it would be. As disappointment, the rigors of child-rearing, divorce, job loss, aging, et al, build up, the interest in politics and the rants begin--against taxes, government, races, genders...issues that they'd never given a living shit about start to make their bile bubble up.
Decent people, by and large. Good human beings who still believe that a candidate or a party embody what they stand for: God, Country, and Family Values, dammit! The salt of the earth, who faithfully absorb the opinion that passes for news or fact, not knowing their inner fears and fires are being cynically stoked, and their religious fervor is being whipped up in a revival tent larger than the Caribbean Sea.
I'm not that guy. At 5-0 plus 1, now, I'm fatigued with having my buttons pushed. I was interested in politics at 13, when at the same age, many of these other fellows were smoking dope and sneaking out of their bedroom windows late at night (there'd have been hell to pay had I tried either). I read Time or Newsweek, watch some of the talking-head shows, and realize the agitation is not worth it. And there is continual agitation. Thirty years of being involved in broadcasting teaches one that all reporting is not intended to be informative. Much is written to churn up a maelstrom. The panel shows are there to pit two ideologues against one another, not to come to a resolution, but to bang heads, cause sparks, and create ratings.
Politics. Inflame and assail. Foment hate and derision. Governing? Stop the other guy by any means necessary. Party loyalty? Republicans found the power of the pulpit 30 years ago. Somehow, in a world of all-too-human hypocrisy, fundamentalism cohabitates with cold ambition and lock-step uniformity. Democrats, liberal, progressive, willing to fight for issues concerning something other than personal gain, show human weakness of their own: They lack the desire to piss off the guys who are being whipped into a frenzy by the Republicans. And the G.O.P. plays offense much better than Democrats play defense. The hostility chip that seems to operate in conservative ideology is not present in liberals, not where politics is concerned. Thus the difference in approaches, and results.
Me? I have watched and read and written of the political world, and have seen a man with actual intelligence elected overwhelmingly to the Presidency. How often can you say that? JFK had those smarts, that charisma. You have to be over 55 to remember his brief years in office, and his assassination obscures the fact that he was cautious about much, stymied by congress, and loathed by crackpots. Imagine if they'd know what he was hiding (poor health, probably sex addiction)?
Does that all sound familiar? JFK had major newspapers and (essentially) two and a half television networks to contend with. President Obama has millions of internet bloggers, and a channel that masquerades as a news organization, while decimating the complete agenda of his opposition (Fox). On cable, at least, objectivity (CNN) means playing devil's advocate. The so-called lefties (MSNBC, after sunset) give Obama grief as well. A cerebral President who uses his scholarly resolve is not popular among the hot-headed motormouths who need a constant vortex whirling to provide content.
The problem is, fellows my age still look at TV and Radio as the voice of official fact and reason. They're neither. They are hell-bent on creating conflict that equals ratings, that equal money. Period. Otherwise, how could broadcasters with a modicum of intelligence take Sarah Palin seriously? The history of popular culture in our country is riddled with characters like her, whose glibness hides an insidious, venal, covetousness. The kind we're told is sinful. How many parents tell their kids to finish what they started? How many of these same parents now worship at the feet of this person who resigned elective office to go make money, then (I'll bet) run for yet a higher office. Do our like minded opinions spin us into denial, as far as politicians are concerned? Do people need a leader to believe in so badly they'll inhale whatever hot air is blown in their direction?
Apparently so. And in a world where ex-Disc Jockeys evolve into talk-show hosts, sometimes appropriating political talking points they don't believe, getting riled up is no longer worth it. I take verapmil and atenlol to control blood pressure. My own radio career is held in limbo, and essentially I'm alone. Is the current body politic (with only the new media making it different from what's gone on in politics since the Roman senate) worth the agitation.
I say no. And look toward a little more happiness in life.
HEY LAAAAAAAAAAADY!!!
Many of you will read this once the holiday is over. You may or may not have seen 84-year old Jerry Lewis cry and drop his pants once more, in his honorable, never-ending, herculean effort to raise funds for the MDA, and find a cure for these dreaded diseases. I no longer watch. Besides getting sick of politics, I've gotten sick of telethons, and would rather send a donation than suffer the maudlin proceedings. Telethons used to be entertaining. Now they use the same marketing techniques as any other business that wants to attack your emotions and separate you from money. I'll send my check (If I don't, Jerry will send envelopes all year, anyway), but will take a pass on the pathos.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
JULY WAS GREAT IN '88
One of the advantages of being born in July is that it's summer...at least in the northern hemisphere. The July's have piled up thick and strong, now, and each has its special place in my memory. Coming across an ancient TV commercial on YouTube can take me back to being a 7 year-old, in 1966. Affairs of the heart, and the occasional flare of youthfulness can conjure up 1976. It's when the month is unusually mild, as this one has been, that I recall July 1988.
Something as simple as a sea breeze can do it. For a few reflective seconds, I'm 29, leaving San Diego as if with a knapsack on a stick. Fleeing the repressive formatics, inane lack of leadership, and the hideous overnight shift at what was then Y-95-FM. I landed in Oxnard, at Top 40,
Q-105. One of the questions I was asked when interviewing for the night job was, "Why in the world are you leaving San Diego to come here?"
The question was valid. San Diego was beautiful, its beaches breath-taking, a small town/big city. I had left the nation's 18th largest radio market for number 88, or something lower on the list. It took an entire weekend to make my decision to go. I'd be leaving friends, a nice apartment in a great neighborhood, with reasonable rent, and I wouldn't be paid any more...in fact, for the first few weeks, it would be less.
I left to get off the overnight shift, yes, but also to play the hits, and bring my natural humor to the air. The suffocating atmosphere at KWLT (which became KKYY, Y-95) was more than I could bear. Along with production man John Nixon (who's reading this, I'm sure), more fun was had in the halls, and the studio making amusing spots than any time spent on air with the listening public. Adult Contemporary radio, as its called, makes money, but it's wall paper. Background noise. It stifles talented people. And it's no place for someone as young a 29 as I was.
When I got to Q-105, regardless of the dilapidated shack we broadcast from, and the fact the place was permeated with the scent of the cow, pig and chicken manure used to fertilize the surrounding strawberry fields, I was ecstatic. To be able to display my innate enthusiasm, to embrace the vibrancy and freshness of Top 40 music, and to crack wise over the air...at will? A hefty burden had been lifted from my shoulders.
The 70 degree summer temperatures and soft Oxnard breeze immediately brings back the positive vibe, and the energy of July 1988--and the music. Whether it can be considered good music or not, only a musicologist can say. I can't be critical about it. It reminds me of feeling free on the air for the first time, even though a review of recordings from that summer reveal a jock trying desperately to break free of the repression that was lingering in his head. I was horrible. But I felt good!
These are some of the song titles you'll never hear, you'll never see on a list of 1988's major hits, but they are songs that immediately bring forth the rush of excitement I felt playing them for the first time, that summer:
Rush Hour - Jane Weidlin
Summer Girls - Dino
Spring Love - Stevie B.
Simply Irresistible - Robert Palmer
Another Part of Me - Michael Jackson
Jackie - Blue Zone
The Twist - The Fat Boys, with Chubby Checker
Shake Your Thang - Salt and Pepper
Parents Just Don't Understand - D.J. Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince
The latter was number one on the Top 8 at 8 (brought to you by Saturday's Fashion store in The Oaks Mall) the night my U-Haul rental rolled into Port Hueneme, where I'd live for two years.
The pay would improve a little, my talent would develop, especially by summer, 1989, and I would never leave Ventura County (although I miss the sea breeze). All that mattered in July of 1988, was that, after 7 years being suppressed in both San Diego, and earlier in Public Radio, I was playing the hits...being young, and ready to burst with enthusiasm for what I was doing. I flush with moments of that feeling when a zephyr brings back a song--I'd love to feel that all the time, just once more in my career.
PUSHING BUTTONS THROUGH THE YEARS
While I'm thinking about all this, I'm reminded that I hardly listen to music at all while I'm in the car. Call it maturing, call it getting older, call it not associating positive memories with what I'm hearing. I think we can all, however, recall what the buttons on our car radios were set to as life rolled along. I certainly do.
On the buttons of my first car in 1977, equipped with a factory, Philco, AM radio, I punched up, from left to right, KABC (Dodger games) KRLA (I could never resist the oldies..and in '77 they had a current play list. It was Art Laboe, Johnny Hayes, the music, and that's it), KTNQ, The new Ten-Q (new home of the Real Don Steele, but they sped their music up 3 to 4 percent...sounded like the Chipmunks sang every song), KHJ (coming to the end of it's long run as THE Top 40 station in L.A.), KGFJ (the heritage "soul" station), and 1580, KDAY (the preeminent "soul" station). If you didn't have FM in your ride, you missed KMET, K-EARTH, KLOS, KUTE, the new "Disco" station, and jazz on KKGO.
Flash ahead ten years, as I settled in at Q-105, and my '83 Corolla has six AM and three FM buttons. On the AM: KMPC (not for the big band music, but for the remarkable, funny sports reporter Jim Healy, who's daily 5:30pm, 30 minute, drop-in filled shows could not be missed); KABC (Dodgers, as always), and KNX for news. FM: K-EARTH (who knew I'd wind up working there, someday?), Q-105 (where I worked, then) and KIIS (the leading Top 40 in the '80's).
The state or radio and car radios themselves have changed. Not having Sirius/XM, my six AM presets, today, are occupied by sports talk--710 KSPN, 1090 out of San Diego, KNX for news, KFWB, for my friend Maggie McKay (Phil Hulett's on too early for me to catch while driving) and KABC (Dodgers...back home again, although surrounded by some fairly hostile right-wing hosts, and weekend infomercials). I have 18 FM presets I used for no more than four stations: The Sound, KLOS, KIIS, and K-Earth, though I rarely listen when I'm not in the building.
Enjoy the summer, enjoy listening to what you dig, whether the radio delivers it or not. And if you surf the net for what radio used to offer, enjoy my friend Kevin Poore's "Nights at The Sound Table" Wednesday nights at 7:30, PDT, at www.ustream.com. A panel determine what music sucks and what doesn't. It's a lot of fun.
Something as simple as a sea breeze can do it. For a few reflective seconds, I'm 29, leaving San Diego as if with a knapsack on a stick. Fleeing the repressive formatics, inane lack of leadership, and the hideous overnight shift at what was then Y-95-FM. I landed in Oxnard, at Top 40,
Q-105. One of the questions I was asked when interviewing for the night job was, "Why in the world are you leaving San Diego to come here?"
The question was valid. San Diego was beautiful, its beaches breath-taking, a small town/big city. I had left the nation's 18th largest radio market for number 88, or something lower on the list. It took an entire weekend to make my decision to go. I'd be leaving friends, a nice apartment in a great neighborhood, with reasonable rent, and I wouldn't be paid any more...in fact, for the first few weeks, it would be less.
I left to get off the overnight shift, yes, but also to play the hits, and bring my natural humor to the air. The suffocating atmosphere at KWLT (which became KKYY, Y-95) was more than I could bear. Along with production man John Nixon (who's reading this, I'm sure), more fun was had in the halls, and the studio making amusing spots than any time spent on air with the listening public. Adult Contemporary radio, as its called, makes money, but it's wall paper. Background noise. It stifles talented people. And it's no place for someone as young a 29 as I was.
When I got to Q-105, regardless of the dilapidated shack we broadcast from, and the fact the place was permeated with the scent of the cow, pig and chicken manure used to fertilize the surrounding strawberry fields, I was ecstatic. To be able to display my innate enthusiasm, to embrace the vibrancy and freshness of Top 40 music, and to crack wise over the air...at will? A hefty burden had been lifted from my shoulders.
The 70 degree summer temperatures and soft Oxnard breeze immediately brings back the positive vibe, and the energy of July 1988--and the music. Whether it can be considered good music or not, only a musicologist can say. I can't be critical about it. It reminds me of feeling free on the air for the first time, even though a review of recordings from that summer reveal a jock trying desperately to break free of the repression that was lingering in his head. I was horrible. But I felt good!
These are some of the song titles you'll never hear, you'll never see on a list of 1988's major hits, but they are songs that immediately bring forth the rush of excitement I felt playing them for the first time, that summer:
Rush Hour - Jane Weidlin
Summer Girls - Dino
Spring Love - Stevie B.
Simply Irresistible - Robert Palmer
Another Part of Me - Michael Jackson
Jackie - Blue Zone
The Twist - The Fat Boys, with Chubby Checker
Shake Your Thang - Salt and Pepper
Parents Just Don't Understand - D.J. Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince
The latter was number one on the Top 8 at 8 (brought to you by Saturday's Fashion store in The Oaks Mall) the night my U-Haul rental rolled into Port Hueneme, where I'd live for two years.
The pay would improve a little, my talent would develop, especially by summer, 1989, and I would never leave Ventura County (although I miss the sea breeze). All that mattered in July of 1988, was that, after 7 years being suppressed in both San Diego, and earlier in Public Radio, I was playing the hits...being young, and ready to burst with enthusiasm for what I was doing. I flush with moments of that feeling when a zephyr brings back a song--I'd love to feel that all the time, just once more in my career.
PUSHING BUTTONS THROUGH THE YEARS
While I'm thinking about all this, I'm reminded that I hardly listen to music at all while I'm in the car. Call it maturing, call it getting older, call it not associating positive memories with what I'm hearing. I think we can all, however, recall what the buttons on our car radios were set to as life rolled along. I certainly do.
On the buttons of my first car in 1977, equipped with a factory, Philco, AM radio, I punched up, from left to right, KABC (Dodger games) KRLA (I could never resist the oldies..and in '77 they had a current play list. It was Art Laboe, Johnny Hayes, the music, and that's it), KTNQ, The new Ten-Q (new home of the Real Don Steele, but they sped their music up 3 to 4 percent...sounded like the Chipmunks sang every song), KHJ (coming to the end of it's long run as THE Top 40 station in L.A.), KGFJ (the heritage "soul" station), and 1580, KDAY (the preeminent "soul" station). If you didn't have FM in your ride, you missed KMET, K-EARTH, KLOS, KUTE, the new "Disco" station, and jazz on KKGO.
Flash ahead ten years, as I settled in at Q-105, and my '83 Corolla has six AM and three FM buttons. On the AM: KMPC (not for the big band music, but for the remarkable, funny sports reporter Jim Healy, who's daily 5:30pm, 30 minute, drop-in filled shows could not be missed); KABC (Dodgers, as always), and KNX for news. FM: K-EARTH (who knew I'd wind up working there, someday?), Q-105 (where I worked, then) and KIIS (the leading Top 40 in the '80's).
The state or radio and car radios themselves have changed. Not having Sirius/XM, my six AM presets, today, are occupied by sports talk--710 KSPN, 1090 out of San Diego, KNX for news, KFWB, for my friend Maggie McKay (Phil Hulett's on too early for me to catch while driving) and KABC (Dodgers...back home again, although surrounded by some fairly hostile right-wing hosts, and weekend infomercials). I have 18 FM presets I used for no more than four stations: The Sound, KLOS, KIIS, and K-Earth, though I rarely listen when I'm not in the building.
Enjoy the summer, enjoy listening to what you dig, whether the radio delivers it or not. And if you surf the net for what radio used to offer, enjoy my friend Kevin Poore's "Nights at The Sound Table" Wednesday nights at 7:30, PDT, at www.ustream.com. A panel determine what music sucks and what doesn't. It's a lot of fun.
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