Radio done the Wright way
THERE are some celebrity deaths that just stop you in your tracks, aren’t there? People who you don’t know, have never met and yet their departure hits you like a tonne of bricks.
Steve Wright was one of those. Here was a bloke who was ostensibly just a DJ yet for so many people he provided the soundtrack to their lives; a seemingly permanent fixture always there in the background.
His ‘big afternoon show’ ran for 23 years, a backdrop for the nation whether you were picking the kids up from school or working in an office or shop or on a building site or revising for your GCSEs.
It often sounded like chaos; that was the trick. He pioneered the idea of “zoo radio” in this country where a posse of others – travel presenters, weather reporters, the occasional “old woman” – sounded as if they were crammed into the studio with him just for a laugh.
Then there were the comedy bits – the factoids, the banter – as well as the serious interviews with everyone from actors to authors and politicians. And always the music.
He made it all sound so easy, thrown together even, but as tributes have shown, he worked very hard indeed to ensure what he did hit its mark every time. More than that, though, he understood as few others did (or do) that the listener is king. He perfected the art of making you feel as if he was in the room with you, and only you, chatting as you did the washing up or made a brew. He was the friend you never met.
All this set me to thinking about the power of radio. We are all so focused on the “next big thing” on the telly, aren’t we? What’s the newest big hitting show we need to binge watch or stream; the latest reality TV, the hottest new face on our screens? Who is the new viral sensation on TikTok or Insta star we have to follow?
Yet we can forget just how wonderful and enriching the good old radio can be.
We can take for granted its presence there in the corner of the room, quietly going about its business to entertain and inform and, most important of all perhaps, make us feel connected.
I work from home but if you popped in on any given afternoon you’d find the radio on in the kitchen, whether I am in that room or not.
It’s on in the bathroom too, first and last thing and through the day, so I can catch the news.
The voices on there, the programmes, the music, keep me company like nobody on TV can. I suspect that’s because it’s a linear thing – there are no flashing lights or big sets – just sound.
It’s much harder to double or triple screen when you’re listening to something. Does it rival the telly and celluloid? Yes it does. Because when it hits its stride – as Steve Wright understood so well – the pictures it paints are better.
Here was a bloke who was ostensibly just a DJ yet for so many people he provided the soundtrack to their lives.