Off Air

I've given up my programme on CHYFM. I'd always wanted the chance to present some music but, when it came to it, I didn't enjoy it as much as thought I would. For one thing, it was rather lonely.

There was never anyone else at the station when I was on air and the frequent lack of light bulbs late on a Friday night, coupled with the slightly damaged sound-proofing on the walls, the teenage carvings on the desk-top, and the generally down-at-heel air had a lowering effect. So did the phone calls, always requesting Britney or Kylie. "Why don't you play some new stuff?" one asked. Well, I was playing new stuff. It just wasn't Britney or Kiley. I found that very depressing. I preferred the drunks, on the whole. Lack of any sense whatsoever is easier to handle then lack of appreciation. One of them did say: "I don't like any of the stuff you're playing. What about Midnight Oil?" I rest my case.

Then I realised that I didn't know one person who listened to the programme. A new colleague of Sara's tuned in one night by mistake, I think, and her verdict was something like this: "We heard one long, boring track, then Richard's voice. he's got a very good voice. Then we turned off." (If that was a Jim White track, I'm hurt, deeply hurt). So now that I'm working full-time, I can see no point in continuing to devote a minimum of three nights a week to it, including preparation time.

I'm thinking of turning to that vast, warm, welcoming home of all lost causes and personal enthusiasms - the web. What interest there was came from the playlists I posted each week. I even had a New York record company emailing me, offering me an album. That was some weeks ago and nothing's arrived yet but, hey, that's rock n roll and, in any case, you get my point. It's the thought, or the email, that counts. In due course, no doubt after a titanic battle with technology, something will emanate from Sandy Beach to the handful of faithful scattered across the world. And, yes, there will be no Kiley. Or Midnight Oil.