On my desk sits a skimmer tape of a young air talent, sent in by his general manager, with the question, “What’s wrong with this guy?” There’s something missing from his performance and the boss can’t put his finger on it. The kid has a pleasing voice, he enunciates well, follows all the rules, gets in his basics like clockwork, remembers the positioning statements, back-announces, front-announces, does the weather, station promos and PSAs without being too wordy. “How come his ratings are in the cellar?”
You asked the right guy, Mr. G.M. Your jock isn’t doing a thing wrong; in fact, he may be doing exactly what you or your PD told him to do. And little else. The problem is, he isn’t doing anything important, that’s “right.” Not once in the course of a four-hour show did I hear him “reveal” himself.
There was never a response to a song, a personal comment about the weather, a warm chuckle — not even a raised voice, except “where the script called for it.” When they perfect a human voice simulator — and I understand they’re well along the way — he’ll be the first one it can replace.
This performer has developed “hiding” to a fine art. Even when he takes a contest winner live on the air, the exchange is all according to formula. By the book, word-for-word: he says everything he’s supposed to, right down to, “And what’s your favorite radio station?” But there is no warmth. No humanity. No sign of caring about the person he’s talking to. No sense that this is a human being on the radio.
Do we simply label him a “cold fish” and let it go at that? Not me. I’d like to know what kind of training he’s gotten, and what kind of instructions the PD has given him. Has anyone ever said to him, “Your announcing is fine. Now, we want you to kick back a little, and get real”?“We don’t want you to be ‘wordy,’ just say something now and then that shows you’re alive, and enjoying yourself, and aware of your listener’s presence.”
It’s not something we DJs come to naturally. In every other branch of the performing arts that I can think of, one is taught early on to become familiar with his or her own emotions, and use them to lend credibility to their performances. Not jocks. Oh, we’re told to “Just be yourself,” but we quickly learn that there’s nothing “just” about it. It’s more like, “Be yourself, but say this, this, and this with feeling and then shut up and play the music.” I’ll bet that’s what the kid I’m talking about was taught.
It’s not enough. Not enough for the listener who came for some companionship along with the music; not enough to distinguish your sound from the other local stations playing similar mixes; not enough to preserve a jock’s job when the front office discovers they can get the same sterile presentations from half a dozen different syndicators — for less money than they’re spending now – and not enough to draw listeners who’ve been tempted with commercial-free satellite radio.
Showing one’s self is not a natural thing for any performer. For radio performers it’s even harder. The actor has to find his own emotions, true; but everyone understands that the words he speaks are someone else’s, so his soul is protected by his role. For most of us in radio, the only role we get to play — or can play with any credibility — is ourselves. That means taking risks — letting our feelings show through.
Giving strangers access to our souls — it’s a brave act that many of us aren’t ready for. Some of us never will be, and most of us have never learned just how to go about it. Well, I’ve written about the methods many times in the past, and will again in the future: the Personal Listener, life content, sharing events which caused you strong emotions, and so on. This week I just wanted to sketch out the problem. It is a problem — one which our GM is going to have to help this jock get past, before he can sound anything but mechanical.
Jay Trachman is publisher of “One to One,” a weekly information and humor service for broadcasters. Jay can be reached at: phone (559) 448 0700, fax (559) 448 0761, e-mail at 121@att.net, or www.121online.net. Reprinted with permission.
