My Top ∞ Radio Songs #21: Radio One (Part 1)

I've been listening to a few of the Radio One 50th anniversary shows on the Radio 1 Vintage pop up station. Till now, I've mostly talked about either Radio 2 or local radio in this feature, but like most young people, I did have my Radio 1 years... in fact, I had them twice.

The first time was in the mid-80s, and it started with Janice Long's Friday evening Select-A-Disc show, which was basically just a request show... but it sounded fascinating to me, because it was full of teenagers ringing up to request The Eurythmics - There Must Be An Angel (this song, more than any other, says Select-A-Disc to me) and Long chatting to them about who they fancied at school, whether they were going out on a date that weekend, snogging, discos... this arcane world I'd suddenly realised was out there and I might one day be a part of (it never happened). Perhaps Janice Long held the answers.

Soon after, I became a Radio One junkie, listening all through the day (except for the Breakfast show - I have never been a regular listener to the Radio One breakfast show: it was either Wogan or... no one, I guess. I certainly didn't listen to Derek Jameson when he took over while old Tel was on the telly). It started with Simon Bates. Our Tune. Corny, but I was at the right age for corny. Then Gary Davies. There are those who will tell you Gary Davies was a great DJ. He wasn't. He was cheese on a stick. Ooh, Gary Davies. Terrible, but I listened. And then... Steve Wright.

I've already talked about Steve Wright, but there's one story I haven't yet told. It happened around the time I was doing hospital radio, and it is my great radio shame. Let's pull the plaster off quickly then, shall we?

I recorded an audition demo tape to try and get a job on Steve Wright's posse. I did it at the hospital radio station, early one weekend when nobody else was around. It wasn't long, it wasn't even a proper demo. It was just me, with a bit of music, telling Steve Wright how he needed a Yorkshire teenager on his posse: to bring a bit of wit or diversity or youth or something to his programme... god knows what I thought I had to offer. I recorded it onto a C30, put it in a padded envelope, and posted it to the BBC. I still remember the moment I posted it. The exact postbox I popped it into. Time seemed to stand still in those seconds... I was so certain this was the moment that would define my life. Soon there would be a phone call and I'd be invited down to London and the rest would be history.

I can't imagine what I'd have done if Steve Wright had called. I couldn't have moved to London. I hated cities. I was a country boy. That place would have killed me... if I hadn't bottled it first. But 17 is a very confusing time. Jarvis sums it up perfectly in today's radio song...

Oh I was seventeen,
When I heard the countdown start, it started slowly,
And I thought it was my heart but then I realised,
That this time it was for real there was no place to hide,
I had to go out and feel,
But there was time to kill,
And so I, I walked my way around town,
I tried to love the world,
Oh but the world just got me down...

My God, you've got to understand,
That I was seventeen!
I didn't, I didn't know a thing at all.
I've got no reason,
No reason at all,
Oh no.

I wasted all my time on all those stupid things that only get me down
Get down, oh
And the sky, is crying out tonight,
For me to leave this town.
So I'll leave this town.

The sky, is crying out tonight,
For me to leave this town,
Yeah, I'm gonna leave this town

21. Pulp - Countdown

Soon after, I realised it was never going to happen. I hope I gave Steve Wright and his London media tossposse mates a good laugh at the stupid northern child who sent that tape. I can still hear them laughing at it now. There's a dark part of me thinks Wrighty kept that tape, that he gets it out and plays it at his big showbiz media idiot parties and they all guffaw themselves stupid.

Who could blame them if they did?




More on Radio One next time...