If a radio station broadcasts but no one listens, does it really exist?
Of course it exists. I'm sitting here listening to it. But then again, no one else is listening at the present moment. Last week I think I set some sort of audience record for The Last Radio Station when 14 people were on the stream. I seem to have a lot of listeners in office cubicles. I also recieved an email from a guy in Holland who said he was enjoying it, so that puts me in the international leagues, just like the Voice Of America.
I have always found the image of the late-night disc jockey to be almost romantic in a weird sort of way. There was a time when late-night radio could be mischievious and almost subversive. Very few people were actively listening, so why not cut loose and be adventurous? Talk TO the people rather than AT them. Sadly, that particular animal is extinct today in all but the biggest markets. With the advent of the Jack format, the suits have achieved their dream: radio stations that run themselves with little or no human participation. We have arrived at a point where most stations that are on the air overnight merely rebroadcast whatever comes in from the satellite dish, with the occasional insertion of local stuff cued by the "bird". Entire clusters of stations are run this way, with no one in the building after regular business hours. You can voice-track an entire 6-hour shift in two hours or less. One of these days that practice is going to backfire in a big way on some station cluster, but for now, that's standard practice.
Of course I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth here. My webcast is automated and voice-tracked. I do that because I can't sit here and play deejay 24 hours a day. As I write this, I see I have gained 2 listeners. Not exactly the sort of figures that make advertisers salivate, but I'm glad they're sharing the experience with me. Better than zero at any rate. My goal is to make them turn and stare at their speakers in amazement and say "what the FUCK did I just hear? I can't believe they played that!" When that reaction occurs, my work is done. Usually when that happens, two things occur: they turn it off and never listen again, or they bookmark it and become a regular listener. When wide-area wireless broadband internet access becomes a reality, that's when The Last Radio Station will really take off.
Tomorrow I go to meet with the new owner-publisher of the Greenville Times. Susan Daughtry sold it to a guy who runs a graphic design firm in the trendy part of downtown Greenville. I don't know how much experience this guy has in running a biweekly publication, but if he has any connections at all I intend to exploit them fully. I'm so fucking fed up with being squeezed out of jobs I'm perfectly qualified for by the local Purple & Gold mafia. None of the jobs I mentioned in previous postings panned out, which sucks. Having your lips firmly glued to Petey The Pirate's posterior would seem to be a prerequisite for almost any gainful employment in this neck of the woods. Maybe this time it will be different.
I have always found the image of the late-night disc jockey to be almost romantic in a weird sort of way. There was a time when late-night radio could be mischievious and almost subversive. Very few people were actively listening, so why not cut loose and be adventurous? Talk TO the people rather than AT them. Sadly, that particular animal is extinct today in all but the biggest markets. With the advent of the Jack format, the suits have achieved their dream: radio stations that run themselves with little or no human participation. We have arrived at a point where most stations that are on the air overnight merely rebroadcast whatever comes in from the satellite dish, with the occasional insertion of local stuff cued by the "bird". Entire clusters of stations are run this way, with no one in the building after regular business hours. You can voice-track an entire 6-hour shift in two hours or less. One of these days that practice is going to backfire in a big way on some station cluster, but for now, that's standard practice.
Of course I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth here. My webcast is automated and voice-tracked. I do that because I can't sit here and play deejay 24 hours a day. As I write this, I see I have gained 2 listeners. Not exactly the sort of figures that make advertisers salivate, but I'm glad they're sharing the experience with me. Better than zero at any rate. My goal is to make them turn and stare at their speakers in amazement and say "what the FUCK did I just hear? I can't believe they played that!" When that reaction occurs, my work is done. Usually when that happens, two things occur: they turn it off and never listen again, or they bookmark it and become a regular listener. When wide-area wireless broadband internet access becomes a reality, that's when The Last Radio Station will really take off.
Tomorrow I go to meet with the new owner-publisher of the Greenville Times. Susan Daughtry sold it to a guy who runs a graphic design firm in the trendy part of downtown Greenville. I don't know how much experience this guy has in running a biweekly publication, but if he has any connections at all I intend to exploit them fully. I'm so fucking fed up with being squeezed out of jobs I'm perfectly qualified for by the local Purple & Gold mafia. None of the jobs I mentioned in previous postings panned out, which sucks. Having your lips firmly glued to Petey The Pirate's posterior would seem to be a prerequisite for almost any gainful employment in this neck of the woods. Maybe this time it will be different.