Three Parts Of Prep

The last in an enduring series written by my friend and hero, Jay Trachman:

One of the nice things about teaching is that it helps one to organize his own thoughts. While explaining to a Jock Doc student recently about how to create Life Content, it occurred to me that the process has three distinct parts, which ought to be kept separate, lest they pollute each other.

Life Content: you, talking about your own life; Sharing the little emotion-causing experiences with your one listener. A lot of them seem so trivial when you're experiencing them, that you forget them by the time you're on the air. Yet these are the kind of raps that individualize you, reach your listener, and bond you to him or her.

Part one of the process is "research": gathering, "standing outside yourself" and noticing that something just caused you a significant emotion.

Then, "getting it down," saving the thought until you can deal with it more thoroughly. The best tools for doing this are a pocket pad, a microcassette or mini-sound recorder. When something happens that you think you might enjoy Sharing with your mate or your best friend -- make a note of it!

You see, when you're talking to someone in real life, the two of you go back & forth in conversation. Eventually, something will remind you to mention the experience in question. When you're talking with your listener, you get no such outside cues; you have to do all the work. That's why you have to make the notes. My own, collected over the past few days: "hummingbirds" ... "wind while biking" ... "radishes."

The second step is your show prep. Here you take the notes you made, and flesh them out into raps. "We've got hummingbirds in our garden! I never saw one in my life until yesterday, except in books, and I'm out watering the garden when all of a sudden, this thing that looks like a fat butterfly swoops in and *stops*! I mean, he's hovering in mid-air, wings beating a mile a minute, this pint-sized miracle, right in front of me! Then off he goes! For a minute, my heart was beating as fast as his wings!"

• "Did you ever notice while biking, that you're always pedaling into the wind? Whenever I go to the post office, I can feel the wind in my face as soon as I turn the corner, and I always say to myself, 'Brisk wind today; it'll be nice when I'm coming home...' And then when I'm on the way back, instead of a nice tail-wind, it's still blowing into my face... Because, obviously, there really isn't much wind; it just seems that way when you're pedaling... Sometimes I think life's a little like that, don't you?"
• "I guess this is the end of the cool-weather crop season; my radishes and lettuce have both started to bolt; we're picking them as fast as we can, but they're still setting flower heads; one of the radishes blossomed overnight -- which means it's no longer edible, right? Right. Another little lesson, learned the hard way -- pthbthbthbt!"

Notice how I've led to a feeling at the end of each bit; with any luck, you (or my listener) experienced some feeling in response. That's the whole reason for doing the bit.

Now comes part three of the process, and I can't over-emphasize the importance of keeping it separate from the other two: the editing. You don't ever want to be editing while you're gathering or writing, because it shuts down the creative process. I'd rather throw a bit away later, than miss one because my "censor" was working, and I told myself, "Naah -- that's not worth Sharing..."

Editing means taking the bit I created, then examining it to decide which details are necessary to set up the ending ("kicker") and which just add time. Also, does the structure set up the ending? Does the kicker express my feeling strongly enough so there's a good chance my best friend will respond?

The research is your life... The prep is taking your experiences, identifying the emotions you experienced, and figuring out how to make your best friend feel something, too... The editing is making it fit within the format requirements of brevity and structure, making sure the kicker is strong enough. These are the three distinct parts of creating raps. Keep them separate. You'll enjoy the process more, and find yourself working more productively when you do.

The Wrong Profession

I don't care so much about the ones who won't do the work; the people who sign up with The Jock Doc, pay their money and expect that just by talking with me for fifty minutes a week, they'll somehow improve.

No, the ones who really get to me are those who practice and think and do their assignments, and yet, after six weeks together, I'm pretty sure they'll never make it as radio personalities.

I'd be the last one to tell them that, and it's not because I'm afraid to hurt their feelings; it's because there's an old radio truism: everybody in this business, me included, has had one person along the way to say to them, "You're never going to make it in radio." I don't want to be that person in anyone's life. I don't want anyone spending the next ten years proving me wrong. Sometimes those students I fear may be "hopeless" just may find their stride, just may overcome their problems, just may end up highly successful radio personalities. I can be wrong.

In cases like these, I want to be wrong.

That said, I'd like to review some of the characteristics I find among jocks that makes me reasonably sure they're in the wrong career...

Foremost among these are people who can't speak well. Radio seems to attract them, almost as though they sense they have this small speech defect, and are determined to have a career where their success will prove there's nothing wrong with them.

It's uncanny how many entry-level jocks you hear who can't pronounce the suffix "ing." Pointing it out doesn't help much; try as they may, it always seems to come out "een."

I don't think it's a question of motivation or will. No, I have to believe that there are some people who are physically incapable of saying "ing." Is it because their motor control is somehow flawed, or could it be a perceptual problem that springs from the way they hear? I really just don't know.

I want to avoid spending much time teach people how to talk. My principal thrust is to help you focus on whom you're talking to and how to reach him/her. Nonetheless, there I find myself, working on pronouncing words, instead of on conveying thoughts. It seems, so often, like a hopeless task.

Can they succeed in radio?

Maybe -- if they're unique enough, appealing enough -- sure; I'm willing to believe anyone can make it if he or she has enough talent and individuality going for them. But that's not the way I'd bet...

There are others you hear once, and just know they're in the wrong profession -- or at least the wrong area of it. These are people who are emotionally flat, for instance. Often they're lovely folks. They just don't excite you. They operate at a lower level, emotionally. Successful performing, be it on the stage or behind a microphone, requires a high level of emotional expressiveness. Some of it gets lost in the transfer, so that unless I start out more emotional than "normal," by the time you perceive it, I sound flat.

You can tell these people they ought to be more emotional, but if they're truly operating at a less excited level than you or I -- as opposed to just needing permission to express what's really there -- all you get is more sing-song speech, which sounds a little less than credible. Like the way you sound, after the PD has told you to "pick up the pace."

Not everybody is cut out to be a radio personality. It's hard to know who just needs more time, and who ought to quit before he or she wastes any more. Often, these people, who are hard-working and dedicated to radio, eventually end up in sales, engineering and management; I think that's great. I'd hate for our business to lose anyone who cares so much about it.

Sometimes years go by before they realize, on their own, that they've been kidding themselves; we waste so much time growing up. My only point is to get you asking yourself these questions: "Given enough time and hard work, do I have the talent and the physical abilities to earn a good living as a radio personality? Or is there some fundamental problem which will hold me back, no matter how hard I work at it?"

The answer requires a great deal of self-honesty. But then, so does success as a performer.

    --by Jay Trachman, circa 1995 

Something To Say

Jay Trachman wrote this in August 1995 and I think it's still relevant today:

I heard the Classical version of the "paid-by-the-word" jock this week:  "That was the Piano Concerto #1 in the key of B-flat minor, Opus 23, by the composer Peter Ilyitch Tchaikovsky..." He's soul-mate to the jocks who say "Ten minutes before the hour of 12..." and "The temperature in Metroville is 79 degrees; the temperature in Burbtown is 77 degrees and the temperature outside, right now, is 78 degrees, looking for a high today of..." (We know it's degrees and if we didn't, we knew it after the first time... and we didn't think you meant the temperature inside the studio!)

Where did we get the idea that adding unnecessary words makes us sound better? Unless your audience is mainly people who speak English as a second language, the opposite is true. The fewer words we can use to ourselves, the more significant things we can say and be heard saying.

These people are first cousins to the jocks who read the sports scores -- all the scores -- because it's something to say... regardless of whether any of his/her listeners care about the teams involved... And to the ones who read both the local and regional weather bureau forecasts verbatim, followed by the extended forecast, God help us, all in the name of "something to say." Add to this group the ones who "pound home" the station slogans and positioners -- often adding one or two of their own -- more often than they're required -- because it's "something to say."

These are some of the more obvious over-talkers, but there's a more insidious form of the same sin: writing your own raps, and then failing to edit them for word efficiency. If a bit really takes sixty seconds for the setup, body and kicker, well, okay... But if it could be done in fifteen -- you've just wasted enough time for another whole bit! No wonder consultants like Jaye, Mike and Becky come in and shut these guys & gals up! No wonder you often get the impression there are only two kinds of jocks -- those who have nothing to say, and those who won't shut up!

Here's a clue: you are not paid to talk on the radio. You are paid to provide entertainment and information to a listener. The information, in order to be worthwhile, has to be something of likely interest to your listener. If there isn't any, why give it?  If it takes ten seconds to convey, how will you be perceived, when you take thirty seconds to say it?

"When am I supposed to do my entertaining?" jocks ask me. "The PD doesn't want us prattling on during stop sets; I've got to do the weather, the positioning statement and maybe a PSA and then it's time to get back into music!"

The secret is in compressing your words. Don't say the conditions three times in your forecast, if they're going to be consistent through the period: "Cloudy through Wednesday..." does it just fine, and is more likely to be heard and understood, than "Partly cloudy today; partial overcast tonight; then partly cloudy tomorrow..."

PSAs can be compressed routinely. Then, when you get one you really relate to, you can take the luxury of expressing some emotion about it, without appearing "too wordy."

This is such an easy problem to fix. All you have to do is believe in the concept of word-efficiency, and listen to your own air check once in awhile.

You can hear the wasted words. The next day, eliminate them. Oh, you may find a few hanging on because they've become habit... But over the course of a few weeks, listening to your air checks daily, you can wash them all out.

It's a principle newscasters have discovered, but a lot of us never seem to have caught onto the lesson: the shorter you make each bit, the more time you have for others. The more you compress each routine informational bit, the more real entertaining you'll have time for. And the less likely that you'll be perceived as "too wordy."

The Basic Basics

The next in a continuing, intermittent series of Jay Trachman treasures:

Being by The Book always bends me back toward basics. (Too bad alliteration isn't one of them...)

Here are the most basic basics of all, in brief...

1)  Talk to someone.  Not your target demographic; not a picture on the wall or a cardboard cut-out. Certainly not "the great unwashed." I mean a specific individual whom you can count on to enjoy your company. An individual; someone you know, or wish you knew. Someone with a name, a height and weight, an occupation, a history, relationships and feelings.

Intimacy is one of the last few remaining strengths of radio. If we blow it, there isn't much standing between us and iPods, Sirius and all the others we keep trying not to worry about.

Consider: our music isn't as good as what a real music lover can program for him or herself on an MP3 player. Even if it is -- even if a listener likes the mix we offer or is too lazy to "shuffle" his or her own iPod, the great odds are your music isn't discernable from half a dozen other stations in the market. The hottest hits, the longest sweeps, the fewest interruptions -- these are mechanical functions that your competition can duplicate successfully, and probably will. Seems like a hard way to win in the ratings.

Our news credibility has been pre-empted by (the internet and) TV; unless a boob tube isn't available, that's what most people choose for their primary information source these days. The weather: decades of inaccurate forecasts have left serious questions about whether anybody believes them now.

All that's left, besides our local-ness, is our intimacy -- the companionship we provide -- our ability to reach a listener and make him or her feel like they're not alone. As far as I know, in order to achieve that, you *must* be convinced you're really talking to someone.

2)  Have something to say. So obvious. So elusive. Personality radio isn't in trouble because the DJ's talked too much; it's in trouble because we said too little that was worth hearing. Talk about your community, this day, your listener's life and your own. How are you going to sound intimate and real if you never ever Share something real from your own life with your friend, the listener? If all your raps have the same inflection, and you never express a true feeling?

3) Here's the most basic of basic principals for personality jocks, so obvious it shouldn't need to be said:  TIME MATTERS.

Put it on the bulletin board. Tape it to the wall in the control room. My experience is, there's probably nothing that needs to be said *more* to today's personality jocks.

Time matters! You are a guest in peoples' minds. Don't abuse the privilege! Prep your raps. Make them lean and mean. Remember that your listener, fan that he/she may be, still only has perhaps twenty or thirty seconds to devote his mind to you. If you haven't hooked him by then, you're just blowin' smoke.

4)  Stop when you're done. Painfully obvious, again. Every rap ends with a "pay-off" - a punchline or emotional response. It's the one line in a rap that practically needs to be scripted, so you can get it just right. And, so you'll know where you're headed before you even start.

When you get there, you're done! Bam, into the next event! Either the rap has worked at this point, or it never will. There is nothing more you can do, except to establish yourself as insecure and undisciplined. Another thing you don't do is go into another piece of talk -- if you can humanly avoid it. The "one thought per break" rule is as valid today as ever. You can't observe it all the time, but when you violate it, you should have good reason for doing so.

The rules of formatics are often complex; but once you've mastered them, that's all there is, cut & dried. You follow them, execute them, and with any luck, they rarely require much thought. The rules of effective personality radio, on the other hand, are wonderfully simple. Except, the application can take a lifetime...

Form And Substance

Written for the ages by Jay Trachman:

One of the things we worry about as the "new technologies" whittle away our listener base is that they're not all wall-to-wall music. There are plenty of channels that offer DJs, and they set our own air personalities in competition with these "syndication quality" talents. This isn't always so - a lot of the jocks are hired simply because they live near the studios where the feed originates - but the level of performance is generally high. 

How can local-origination stations compete, with what they have to spend for talent? Some broadcasters talk as though they only have two choices: hire low-cost inexperienced performers, and nurture them till you lose them, or hire mediocrities who may stay put. (I know of station managers who actually opt for the second...)

It's always been that way. This creates problems and expenses for employers, but it's in the nature of the entertainment business. Suppose the record companies operated that way? Hiring so-so artists they could hang onto, rather than the brilliant flashes-in-the-pan who may turn out to be "one-hit wonders," or change labels as soon as their contracts are up? Artist development is an expensive, never-ending chore -- but it comes with the territory, in entertainment.

I believe it is possible for "young, inexperienced" personalities to win against the Big Bird.

Here's how to train them:

I believe the right thing to teach young jocks is this: "Here is our format. I expect you to follow it strictly...unless you have good reason. If, for a few minutes, these rules interfere with something you're passionate about, something you're sure both you and your listener will enjoy, then by all means, do it!  Be prepared to explain your reasons to me later. If they're good, I will not only approve,  I may even take you to lunch. If they're not, well, you had my permission, so let's talk it over and see how we can fine-tune your approach."

A station doesn't become appealing because of formatics or slogans; it becomes appealing because of substance. You can regulate jocks and make them follow every rule, but after you're done with that, you still don't necessarily have anything people will listen to. Training and seasoning can't just mean formatics and smoothness. It has to include what your jocks are saying and to whom.

Perhaps the core of it is understanding of the listener. One of the principal problems with beginning personalities is that they forget the person they're supposed to be talking to. They lose sight of attention span.

They talk to massage their own egos. The conventional remedy is to tell him or her: "Shut up and play the music." Maybe the right answer is, "Think!  Who are you talking to?"

Have you ever heard a "diamond in the rough" on the air? Someone who was "breaking all the rules," and yet so appealing in his or her unique way that you couldn't tear yourself away? These people are going to draw listeners no matter what mistakes they make.

Formatics, they can learn; smoothness, they'll acquire -- provided they don't get so bummed out over programmers telling them, "Just be yourself - while reading these liner cards!" -- that they leave the profession.

Seasoning and formatics count. But they're only of prime importance when no one offers anything else. I don't think you need ten years of major market experience to do an appealing show and compete with the syndicators.

I think what you do need is something to say that the listener enjoys and can't get anywhere else. Even if it is a little "rough." I think small market managers and programmers need to learn how to guide creativity, instead of confining it.

That's not a new problem, and the new technologies didn't create it.

Ego

Jay Trachman wrote many wonderful Talent Tips for his "One To One" readers - some of radio's most-famous personalities over more than three decades.  My goal continues to be to since his 2009 death to keep his influence and memory alive by occasionally reprinting his classics:

"He'd do okay here, if only his ego didn't keep getting in the way." If you're like me, you've heard that a few times in your life, and once in awhile, about yourself. You're probably aware that people with weak, rather than strong, egos tend to become performers. (The ones with the strong egos become salesmen.)

There was a fascinating article about strong and weak egos in the New York Times which I think is worth Sharing because it offers some insights to the performer's mind...

Here's what Dr. Paul Ornstein of the U. of Cincinnati said at a conference on narcissism: "Self-esteem depends on how well-developed your sense of self is. We're all exceedingly protective to the extent we feel vulnerable."

Hmmm.

The great psychiatrist Alfred Adler said: "The deeply narcissistic person feels incomplete, and uses other people to feel whole."

Anyone we know?

The Times said, "Up to a point, narcissism can help a person be more successful and happy, but in more extreme cases it causes serious problems in relationships and careers."

Ever have any of those?

Then they displayed a chart comparing "healthy" versus "unhealthy" narcissism. I'd think of it as "strong ego" versus "weak," but you'll find stuff in here that's familiar...

Healthy: Appreciates praise, but does not live for it. Unhealthy: Has an insatiable craving for adulation. Needs praise to feel momentarily good about self.

Healthy: May be hurt by criticism, but the feeling passes. Unhealthy: Is enraged or crushed by criticism, and then broods for long periods.

Healthy: Feels unhappy but not worthless after a failure. Unhealthy: Failure sets off feelings of shame and worthlessness.

The dumbest thing I could do at this juncture is to point to the "unhealthy" ones and say, "Don't be like that!"

That's about as helpful as saying, "Just be yourself!"

 More on this topic tomorrow.

Hiring An Employer

Jay Trachman had a way with words.  That's why I treasure his memory and try to reprint one of his evergreens at least once a month.  Read and learn:

"How do you know if a station is a good place to work? Especially if it's across the country? There is a station in this market which is notorious for hiring people, then letting them go just short of the time when they'd be able to collect unemployment. How does one go about avoiding traps like that?" 

Almost everybody takes at least one or two jobs which they later regret. Because of our nature as performers, we're inclined to "fall" for anyone who appreciates us. To anyone who picks me out from a crowd, I'm willing to give the benefit of a lot of doubts. That's a plus, but it can mask a lot of minuses. Here are a few guidelines which may help you to minimize the risk.

There is almost no way you can know all you need to about a station without visiting there. As a rule of thumb, beyond entry level, I would not go to work for an outfit more than 200 miles away that was not willing to fly me in for an interview, feed me and put me up at a reasonably nice motel. Far from just ego-massaging, this is your earliest, most powerful indication that this management places importance on talent, and is willing to spend some bucks to get the best. Sign up with a station that pinches pennies on interviews, and you can bet they'll do it on salaries, raises, and everything else.

One thing we often forget to do, unfortunately, is to "interview the interviewers."

In a sense, you are hiring them as your bosses.

A few questions are in order.

"How's your turnover rate here?" If they don't offer contracts, "What is your policy on raises?" "Do you have a promotion budget?" "Do you believe in using the 'red phone' to correct a jock's mistakes during his/her show?" "Does the station pay for DJ materials, such as prep services?" (Another small item, monetarily, but symbolic of that all-important question: how important do they consider their talent?)

I have a tendency to judge people on an intuitive basis, shortly after I meet them. In social situations, it causes me problems.

In an interview, never.

I've found that the subtle signs which tell me, "He is not being completely honest with me," or "I bet in a pinch he could be treacherous," always seem to come true over the long run.

Sure, it's hard, when you're being brought in as the "fair-haired boy" (or girl).

These people have chosen you, and it's not easy to think negatively about them in the face of that. But in my experience, if you don't ask the hard questions -- of them, and of yourself -- you'll live to regret it.

At every opportunity you get, whether falling asleep or waking up in your motel room, or driving with the PD to lunch, listen to the station.

Do the jocks sound like they're enjoying themselves? Or are they mostly on auto-pilot? Do they sound like they're important to the operation, or are they all interchangeable ciphers?

The equipment: is it a "toilet"? Is the studio "held together with Scotch tape? Or are the boards and decks at least modern and in good working order?  State-of-the-art equipment won't make this a good place to work, but an ancient facility in disrepair makes another strong statement about the importance of programming to this company.

Above all, don't make any decisions on the spot.

Remember, the boss is probably a salesman. He's gotten where he is by being good at getting others to make the decisions he wants. You need time for the glow to fade, to sleep on what's just happened to you, and to review it in the cold light of day.  48 hours, minimum.

If offered a contract, don't be pressured into signing it on the spot. "I'd like to have my lawyer take a look at this before we finalize it."

Any honest businessman should respect that; he or she wouldn't do it, either.

Conversely, don't you go home on a "We'll let you know," and start calling the next day. If they want you, they'll call -- believe me!

I keep coming back, in my mind, to the overwhelming knowledge of how difficult it is for me to say "no" to people who like me. Yet I know, inescapably, the importance of rational judgment in this kind of situation.

Don't make the critical decision until the glow has faded. Take your time.  Be careful. And don't be afraid to say "no."

If these people like you, then surely there must be others out there, too.

Clutter Or Companionship

Another Jay Trachman treasure:
They're an Adult Hit FM station, traditionally a market leader, but recently newcomers have knocked them out of the top slot, down to #3 in their target demographic. Their main competition has a reasonably appealing morning man, followed by continuous music during the day.  Our station, which is intelligently programmed and research-oriented, also sees weakness in the 25 to 34 cell of their target. They have a good morning team, and personality through the day.

How can they get the #1 spot back, and increase their younger numbers?

The conventional wisdom is, make the morning team (somehow) better, and then cut back on the talk throughout the day. Will that do it for them?

Some will say "yes."

Not me.

How come?

Several reasons...

• First, if this station has a good reputation as a personality outlet -- and it does -- then that's what should be built on, if the position is at all salvageable. In focus groups conducted for the client, "too talky DJs" was one of the most-mentioned negatives for the station. Interestingly enough however, of the other stations they asked people about, the "too talky" negative was roughly equal for their competitors.  I would not ask a station to give up something they have the potential of doing well, to make themselves more like others who do it poorly.
• Second, if the competition's strength is continuous music, then that's the last thing you want to imitate. One of the most basic principles of marketing warfare is: You don't make a frontal assault on your enemy's main strength. You either attack from your own position of greatest strength in a flanking move around the enemy, or if that's not possible, you wage "guerrilla warfare" by defining a small, uncontested niche, and pouring all your strength into it. It helps if you're attacking in an area where the opponent can't fight back effectively, without weakening his own position.
• Third, while continuous music might increase their numbers in the younger portion of their target (and it might not), it could also damage them in the one demographic where they're reasonably secure: the 35 to 49 cell. These listeners are presumably content with the programming as it stands.

So, my answer is to examine their current strength -- a lot of music, with real humans in between -- and look for ways to enhance that on air. They also need strong, effective marketing and promotion to remind former listeners that they're still there, and better than ever.

My part of the job is to help the air staff communicate more effectively.

"Too much talk" can mean exactly that -- but it more likely means that what's being said often isn't worth hearing. That's why the listener views it as "clutter."

Can their personalities be taught to make their words count?

Sure!

Follow the basics of raps, prep your bits before you air them, and it's rare that you can't commit entertainment in twenty or thirty seconds.

Remember:

1. billboard.
2. elaboration.
3. response, or kicker.

Always, always, always, know what your kicker - your final sentence, your emotional pay-off - is going to be, before you open that mike. Pretty simple stuff.

Everything you say on the air should be directed at someone -- your "real" listener (not the station's "target" listener).

Nearly all you talk about should focus on your life and your listener's life, at home and in the community, and what's going on this day.

If you can do that without blabbing on endlessly, and make sure your raps are each designed to "reach" the listener -- ultimately to make him feel like you're a "friend" of his, then your talk won't be perceived as clutter, but as companionship.

Easier said than done, certainly. It takes plenty of prep, a fine sense of your personal listener's presence, and a never-ending awareness that Time Matters.

Finally, I'm advising them to pay more attention to their commercial content.

I believe this is a major weakness in adult-formatted stations today. Anything you're spending 20 to 30% of your time in is perceived as a significant part of the "programming."  Thus: the commercials have to be worth hearing, not just for the message, but for the delight of listening.

Funny - they don't think that's at all unusual with TV spots; how come we settle for so much less on radio?

If all the competition is selling is tons of music, then your attack must be based on everything else.

It can be done; it's more complicated than just playing "more music" in a row... But the rewards will justify the effort.

P.D. In Absentia

Another Jay Trachman Treasure:

What a beautiful phone call I got today.  "You were my PD."

The caller explained that the PD they had wasn't very bright or experienced, and my writings taught him about how to be a real personality. "I was his PD????"

I thought... I hope I did the job well...
 
Did I impress upon him the importance of having something to say? It should be so obvious, but it isn't -- not to a lot of young jocks and their PDs: the importance of entering the studio each day with more material than one could use. Last week, I ran into Chuck Carson at the post office. He was morning man to my mid-day "housewife" shift when the two of us were both brought to Fresno by Triangle Broadcasting, decades ago. After not seeing Chuck for many years, practically the first reminiscence we Shared was about how we were suddenly required to do show prep. It was probably the most important thing we learned, on that job.
 
Did I help him to understand that entertainment is about helping another to experience emotions, and that one emotion is as good as another? At that very job, on KFRE, I started out hiding behind jokes and "oddities in the news." Then, one day, I happened to look out the window while walking between the on-air studio and the news room, and saw the most magnificent double rainbow I'd ever seen. I Shared it with my listener -- I must have gushed all over it -- and the phones lit up like I'd never seen them before; everyone had his or her own descriptive phrase or impression to add, and very quickly I learned that there were better ways than comedy to affect -- and infect -- my listener.

Did I teach him how to talk to one person, and why it matters?  I remember Mildred, the older woman who had the "hots" for me; she was out of the target demographic and her devotion sometimes bordered on frightening... But, needy as I was, I found it easy to talk directly to her on the air, knowing that she understood -- not just my words -- but my emotional tone... Over time, I realized that when I spoke directly to Mildred, many people felt like I was talking to them. At later times in my career, my Personal Listener was Bonnie, and then Steve... It mattered not; it was the idea of talking to one specific person, that made me sound intimate and real, and "liberated" me to show the spectrum of my emotions.

Did I help him to develop the self-confidence to show his real self to his listeners? Perhaps it was the day when I was just coming down with the flu -- I wasn't sick enough to stay home yet, but I felt like death re-heated. I told my listener about it, and invited everyone to phone in with their own special versions of "poor baby" for me. It was one of the most powerful bits I ever did; there were offices full of people saying it in chorus; someone doing it in Spanish, someone else serenading me, and the phones stayed lit beyond the end of my show. Tell your listener you feel crummy? It worked so well for me, I was ready to risk trying a few other emotions...

Did I impress him with the idea that radio is a business, as well as an art? Oh, what a tough lesson that one was for me. I was "Jay Trachman, DJ hero!" Don't mess with my programming, don't try to tell me what music to play, and don't bring me spots thirty minutes before they're supposed to air, on a Friday afternoon. Ultimately, the station was sold, the new owners deemed me more trouble than I was worth, and I was shown the door. The saddest, most embarrassing thing about it was, on reflection years later, I understood that they were right.

Did I teach this successful radio manager, back in his early days, well enough to help him become successful in a rough business? Oh, I hope so.  Being a program director -- even in absentia -- involves a great responsibility to the people you're trying to "direct." One needs, not only to lay out the ground rules and formatics, but to help them to put forth their best each day, to celebrate their job, their work, and each other, and constantly, to grow better at what they do. I hope I was up to the job.

How Much Is Too Much?

My picture appeared in my high school yearbook over the caption, "I wonder if he thinks...as much as he talks..." (another in a continuing series of Jay Trachman treasures)

I never bought that yearbook, but today, decades later, I know they were onto something...

I listen to an aircheck and I know instantly that h/she talks too much.

He goes from one thought to another, with a few diversions along the way, like a map-less tourist in the general area of what she's trying to say.   I have to play the tape twice before I can figure out his point. By then, I can hear her PD saying, "Just shut up and play the music already!"

I hired a new secretary and she talked too much. She babbled happily on and on and at first I thought it was entertaining. Then I realized her chatter masked a serious problem: she didn't listen. It reminded me of the old joke about how, for a teenager, the opposite of talking isn't listening, it's waiting to talk.

I have a relative who talks too much.

"How are you?" is an invitation to tell you, in the greatest detail, about everything she's done or thought for the past few days, without regard to whether or not you're interested. If you try and divert the conversation, she'll listen politely until you come to the end of a thought (or stop for a breath) and then pick up with, "But anyway..." As though your comments were an interruption. She knows they call her "motor-mouth." She doesn't let on if she minds; she even jokes about it.

And then does it again.

I talk too much. I'm the typical "Ask me what time it is; I'll tell you how to build a watch"... I enjoy talking; I delight in conveying my knowledge and opinions to anyone who seems interested...

Unfortunately, sometimes they aren't nearly as interested as I think they are...

Why do some of us "talk too much"? Is there a common thread running through us? How much talk is "too much," and how can you tell when you get there?

I suspect there's a defensiveness that runs through us talkers; it's as though, while we're talking, we're controlling the situation. If we stop, others may take over. It was clearest to me with the new secretary I had to let go after a week on the job. Ask her a question, she'd reply obliquely, as if she only talked on her own agenda. Bring her back to the question, and she'd take you away from it again until you practically had to grab her by the collar -- verbally -- and say, "Here is the question. Now answer it, for God's sake!"

My relative is that way, to a lesser extent. When she's talking, the room is in her thrall. She is controlling. She relinquishes control grudgingly, and only for as long as necessary. Her performing is a means of dominating. She is - in some strange sense - attempting to entertain...

What these observations in myself and others implies is that we tend to talk, not for the benefit of Sharing with others, but to control. To control ourselves, the people around us, our universe. When we're talking, we feel secure.

So what's wrong with that? What's the common mistake all of us talkers make?

I'll tell you: we forget about the needs, wishes and interests of the ones we're talking to.

Other people become mere dots in a carefully crafted constellation; foils, objects, targets of what we must do to maintain our security. Well, if your foil is the family member who would sooner die than allow you to think he's rejecting you, you're more or less safe. If the object is your boss and he's already tried to warn you that you're talking yourself out of a job, then maybe you've been doing this so long that you've forgotten how to stop. And if it's your listener you're babbling at - guess what? He or she has buttons on the radio!

The moral of this little insight? That talking -- for all people, but especially for we who do it for a living -- must always be measured against whom the talking is for and how they are likely respond to it.

How much talking is too much?

One word more than you are certain your listener will be interested in hearing.

My Inscrutable Blog Post

Sometimes attempting to "explain" something that simply didn't make much sense in the first place only serves to further cloud an issue.

I hope to avoid doing that here.  My New In 2007; Obsolete In 2013 post made sense, I hope, to the people I work directly with since it was designed to serve as a somewhere coded, confidential and personal reminder.

However, a comment came in over the weekend from an innocent reader who can be forgiven for feeling that it was...

Completely biased and useless rhetoric. I have no idea what this post was intended to accomplish. Could you clarify? I mean, how does an iPhone age and model relate to an elder and youth relationship? And what is the goal of a new phone as compared to the goals of each an elder and younger in a mutually satisfying relationship? What are you saying?

I appreciate the feedback and emailed my commenter:  "As I travel and listen to radio, I hear too many personalities talking to an audience that maybe existed at one time - "next hour, we'll..." "more details on our website" etc etc and I keep trying to get their attention and tell them to talk like real people do by reminding them that the only way to avoid cultural obsolescence is to be sharing emotions and telling stories each time you open your mouth. I use Dick Clark and Ed McMahon, rest their souls, as examples as I coach this point by noting that Dick was remaining relevant right to the end as he counted them down every New Year with Ryan while Ed was selling adult diapers and insurance to old people.  Staying fresh, current and contemporary is a personal choice, requiring the breaking of deeply-ingrained old habits which die hard.  Am I a voice in the wilderness?"

My correspondent replied, perhaps teaching the lesson far better than I did...

I believe the essence of radio has always been company, entertainment, and information for the masses. But it has always been one sided. Interactive media like web blogs, chat, and social sites like Twitter have influenced this, clearly, as they cater to individual interaction. The question may have become how can radio become more interactive? Less pretense and more camaraderie is appreciated and demanded by the radio audience today, in my view. And to at least sound (believably) interactive is crucial.

Why didn't I think of that?

Any time you read this blog and feel like improving on it, please add a comment or clarification.  Help me to "at least sound interactive."

New In 2007; Obsolete In 2013

An internal Apple memo now calls the original iPhone, launched less than seven years ago (to put it more kindly) "vintage."

How are you doing in that department?

Fortunately, there aren't many areas of our culture moving faster than the tech world, but move they do.

If you're still talking to the same "personal listener" you created when you first got into radio, it's likely that you're as "today" as American Family Publishers.

Every parent knows:  young people aren't going to make the effort to understand and relate to their elders.

If anyone in an older person to younger person relationship is going to "speak the language" of the other person, only the older of the two is fully-equipped to understand and communicate to the other.

Take a bite out of today's "apple" before it takes a bite out of you.

Terrestrial Radio

Another from my intermittent series of "Trachman treasures:"

As opposed to radio that's bounced off a satellite or grabbed from "the world wide web."  In other words, "us." Or, what's left of us.

Somebody expects us to need a descriptive word in the near future. It reminds me of "the private sector" - which, by implication, legitimizes every business the government cares to get into.

It used to just be "business." It used to just be "radio."

Well, fellow terrestrials, what can we do to ensure our survival in an era when we're just one segment - perhaps some day, even a minor segment -- of all the radio that's out there?

Come close and listen carefully; I have a plan.

Here are six ways we can survive this new competition, or any competition:

1.  Listener and community involvement.
This is radio's most natural turf. Talking about, and participating in community events on the air.
Instructing DJs to use packaged material only as a back-up. The main source of raps should be about the DJ's life in the community, and how he or she responds to it. Encourage him to talk about his children's school; the local athletic teams, the traffic on Main Street, the colorful late-night movie host on TV, the latest campaign to clean up the downtown area.  Encourage some expressions of opinions; it doesn't matter whether everyone agrees or no one does. What you need now, above all else, is live humans behind the mike. Start a station campaign that reflects a community wish or un-met need. Any time some big event is going on in town, don't just send a news team to report it; send staffers to participate. The goal is to make your station central to everyone's perception of the community.  Be there and be visible!

2.  Timeliness.
Another of radio's inherent strengths that we've ignored.  Jocks should be informed, not just about what's going on in the community in general, but also about what's happening at this minute. On an elementary level, every DJ on the air should pop his/her head out the window once an hour, to see if (regardless of what the forecast says) it's raining. Or fogging or snowing. Or windy or partly cloudy; if the sky looks "ominous" or "glorious" or whatever else. But timeliness is not limited to weather. Are there local streets blocked off today because of construction or a parade?  Is some recording act appearing in town today (even if the competition is sponsoring them, it's still your town)? Music is generic.  Real personality is specific to this place, at this moment.

3.  Real personalities.
"Where can I find some?" asks the GM. Well, you grow them. You hire people who are passionate about life, and teach them how to do it within the confines of a radio format. (It's what Jay Trachman  wrote about every week of his life as long as I knew him.) Helping to develop and guide them is part of what he did, and now I do. If your management needs help, have them email me. I have a dog-eared old copy of "The Art Of Personality Radio," I'll share with you.  (Really.)

4.  Identity.
Your station should be perceived as a "thing," an identifiable entity that stands out from everything else in the market. And the fact that you play twenty Classic Hits in a row isn't going to do it for you, any more than saying the right liner cards will. Not for much longer.  What is your station "about"? What sets it apart -- that the listener can perceive -- from everything else available?  If the music you play is the only answer you can give, you're headed for trouble.

5.  Promotions that cause chatter.
Ask programmers to tell you their favorite contests, and many respond by telling you about their biggest or most unusual prize. The contest itself should be fun to listen to, and make your listener want to share the experience with others. When it all comes down to the competition saying, "The fifth caller wins $1 million!", your station ought to be someplace else.

6.  Being fun to listen to. 
I believe a station becomes fun to listen to when it is perfectly obvious that the DJs are having fun themselves. You can't mandate it; "Have fun, or you're fired." But each of the items above helps build an atmosphere of fun for the performers. When they're involved with this community on this day, participating in the life of the listener, expected to be creative, invited to respond to events, I think you'll find most of your staffers are having fun on the air, and that's contagious. As Jay mentioned over and over again for as long as he lived and wrote, "Having Fun Is Good For You."

If You Want To Be A Radio Personality

It has been too long since I recycled a Jay Trachman treasure:

Focus on four areas, which I think are universal necessities for putting yourself across as a "friend" -- someone who's "for real" -- and training the listener to pay attention.

1.  You've got to be speaking to someone specific.
Not a demographic, not an average - someone who is very real to you (even if it's a fantasy), and with whom you feel comfortable. Two reasons: first, the safety this Personal Listener affords you - to block out the masses and picture yourself with this one valued friend - allows you to display a spectrum of emotions you'd never reveal to a crowd of strangers. (More about this in a moment.) Second, when you truly believe you're talking to one person, everyone listening who seeks companionship from his/her radio will fantasize that this person is them.

The Personal Listener has a name, a family, a history, an occupation, a hair color and all the other attributes required so you can picture him or her in your mind when you open the mike. And their primary reason for being there is not the music or the information you offer; it's to spend time with you, because he or she enjoys your company. Not what you do - who you are.

2.  You've got to be focusing on the person you're speaking to, rather than the words you're saying.  
Otherwise one hears strange inflection patterns and often a hyped energy level that sounds phony. A programmer tells the young jock, "Be up and bright!" It's nice when you are, but it's not appropriate coming out of a soft ballad. When you say the station identifier - no one could possibly be that enthusiastic about something they say every five minutes for four hours. You can announce those words and say them authoritatively - but when you feign enthusiasm, you destroy any chance that the listener will relate to you as a person.

3.  In order to be perceived as a friend, you must behave like one.
That means doing the things all human beings do. Among them: showing the spectrum of your emotions. Sometimes people are happy; sometimes they're sad. Sometimes they're angry and sometimes they're tender. You don't have any friends who don't show all these emotions - and more - to you, over a period of time. It's something people expect from one another. You can't achieve emotional intimacy - friendship - with your listener without doing it.

4.  You have to prepare material for your show.
Most important, you need to be armed with Life Content when you walk in the studio. Life Content:  brief bits about your life experiences and your responses to them. Anything which caused you strong feelings is worth talking about with your listener. Most jocks don't do show prep - especially after the morning show. I've heard every excuse in the book. But the bottom line is, they almost uniformly fail to entertain.

Most of the jocks I hear who don't prep rely on station slogans, positioners, promos and whatever other liner-card junk they can come up with. One of the hallmarks of the DJ who has nothing to say is that those crutch phrases get repeated way more than the programmer or consultant requires. These DJs train the listener to tune them out anytime they open the mike. Ultimately, a survey-taker comes along and asks people what they like least about the station, and they'll reply, "The DJs talk too much!"  They don't talk too much - they don't say anything worth hearing!

Entertainment means: enabling another to experience his or her feelings in a safe environment.  Make a person laugh, make them cry, make them shake their fists in anger - you have committed entertainment. Every bit you do should lead to an expression of emotion, calculated to make your listener feel something in response. This is exactly what the music you play does.  You need to do it, too.

Being a radio performer isn't rocket science... But it does require some understanding and a good deal of work - both before air time and during.

Or... you could settle for being an interchangeable jock who wonders why you can never make much more than minimum wage...

Try Softer

Jay Trachman wrote the following article seven years ago.  If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know that one of my goals in continuing it is to help keep his memory and amazingly prescient advice alive:

Occasionally, you hear something just at that point in life when you need to. Shortly after I first came to Fresno to work at KFRE-AM (now ESPN radio), I heard a commercial that changed my thinking. It was a Bekins Moving ad -- probably a trade for having moved my belongings here from Ohio -- and the sixty-second spot was one of those little-theater-of-the-mind "playlets." The scene was a big  warehouse where they train new Bekins men. You hear the instructor telling the trainee, "Now I want you to pick up this piano and take it across the room, without breaking any of these eggs we have scattered all over the floor."

Then you hear a grunt as the guy hefts the piano, then takes a few steps, and the inevitable "crunch crunch" of egg-shells (great sfx!). He says, "I guess I'll have to try harder." The instructor replies, "No -- here at Bekins, we try softer!"

What a revelation that was to me -- the inveterate harder-tryer. Sometimes you gotta' try softer... I often work with talents who need to try softer.

Perhaps the same impulse that leads so many of us to become performers -- insecurity about our own social acceptance -- inclines us toward savage self-criticism. With these jocks there's rarely a problem helping them to spot their mistakes. There's always a problem helping them to spot their strengths. "If only I had tried harder, the break would have been perfect."

"He should've tried harder." An epitaph line you can file alongside "He had a lot to learn."

One of the results of this mental set is a tense, back-of-throat delivery that works adequately when your "announcing mode" is called for, as in liner cards and slogans, but prevents you from ever sounding quite "normal."

The ultimate answer is that you have to change your fundamental view of yourself and your listener; to acquire the confidence that your listener doesn't expect perfection, doesn't care about -- often doesn't even hear -- your mistakes, and enjoys you most when you're truly "being yourself."

You have to have enough confidence in your listener to know that he or she enjoys hearing you talk about something from your life which evoked strong feelings.

The ability to be (and thus, to sound) intimate on the air flows from self-confidence. It's a by-product of feeling good about who you are and how well you do what you do. For most of us, this comes with maturity. I don't know any way to rush it. I didn't begin to acquire that kind of self-acceptance until I was past thirty. But perhaps my pointing out to you that this is one of the keys to success as a performer will help aim you in the right direction.

Here are some tricks you can use to sound more intimate; their purpose is to help you speak from your mind and heart to someone you know and care about.  Warning: if you use them just to change the pitch of your voice, instead of as aids to allow you to express true feelings, they will make you sound "affected."

Here's the first: pull off your cans. Those headphones seem to steer us toward deep, throaty resonances, turning us into "boss-jock" wannabees, instead of authentic personalities. Once your hearing is "normal" again, you hear what you sound like talking to "real" people when they're in the room with you. If necessary, pick up one earphone and hold it to your ear. But to the extent that it's practical, get out of those cans, and back into the real world.

Second, get as close to the mike as you can without popping "p's," and adjust the volume so you can speak without projecting. This is the very essence of "trying softer." Then, close your eyes and conjure up the image of your listener.

These devices can make you uncomfortable for awhile. That's the idea. By significantly changing the way you sound to yourself, you find you have to think to make things work, instead of merely coasting on "auto-pilot."

This will provide you with an opportunity to hear yourself being intimate.  But these are just "tricks." I can help you to sound more human. But it's up to you to find your own, unique ways to be human.

Ego

Another "Talent Tips" treasure by Jay Trachman

"He'd do okay here, if only his ego didn't keep getting in the way." If you're like me, you've heard that a few times in your life, and once in awhile, about yourself. You're probably aware that people with weak, rather than strong, egos tend to become performers. (The ones with the strong egos become salesmen.)

Here's what Dr. Paul Ornstein back when he was at the U. of Cincinnati said at a conference on narcissism: "Self-esteem depends on how well-developed your sense of self is. We're all exceedingly protective to the extent we feel vulnerable."

Hmmm.

The great psychiatrist Alfred Adler said: "The deeply narcissistic person feels incomplete, and uses other people to feel whole."

Anyone we know?

The NY Times, reporting on Ornstein's presentation 15 years ago said, "Up to a point, narcissism can help a person be more successful and happy, but in more extreme cases it causes serious problems in relationships and careers."

Ever have any of those?

Then they displayed a chart comparing "healthy" versus "unhealthy" narcissism. I'd think of it as "strong ego" versus "weak," but you'll find stuff in here that's familiar...

Healthy: Appreciates praise, but does not live for it. Unhealthy: Has an insatiable craving for adulation. Needs praise to feel momentarily good about self.

Healthy: May be hurt by criticism, but the feeling passes. Unhealthy: Is enraged or crushed by criticism, and then broods for long periods.

Healthy: Feels unhappy but not worthless after a failure. Unhealthy: Failure sets off feelings of shame and worthlessness.

Healthy: Feels "special" or especially talented to a degree. Unhealthy:  Feels superior to everyone else, and demands recognition for that superiority.

Healthy: Does not feel hurt if no special treatment is given. Unhealthy:  Feels entitled to special treatment, that ordinary rules do not apply.

Healthy: Is sensitive to the feelings of others. Unhealthy: Is exploitative and insensitive to what others need or feel.

If some of your responses fall into that "unhealthy" category, what can you do about it? Of course, the article doesn't say, so you'll have to settle for my own thoughts on the matter.

First of all, the only thing they've achieved so far is to stick labels on human responses: "healthy," "unhealthy."

The dumbest thing I could do at this juncture is to point to the "unhealthy" ones and say, "Don't be like that!" That's about as helpful as saying, "Just be yourself!"

The truth is, I'm not sure there is any "cure," in the ordinary sense, for this "unhealthy narcissism."

No one ever cured me of those naughty characteristics. And yet, I'm not that way today (at least, not most of the time.)

If there's some process by which you can "cure" the unhealthy narcissist, I don't know of it. The passage of time is what mainly did it for me, as it probably will for you, too.

I only have one suggestion here: when people give you compliments, listen to what they say.

Try to be open to the knowledge that at least some people like, not just what you're doing, but who you are.

And if you worry about being perceived as an "egotist," remember that egotism is rooted, not in superiority, but in insecurity.

The Experiment

Another in a continuing series of Jay Trachman treasures:

There's nothing wrong with pounding home the "basics": call letters, frequency, your name, the station positioner or slogan. You've got to give people your "address," so they can get back to you. And, the theory goes, if they hear it enough times, just maybe they'll remember when the rating diary falls into their hands.

It may be true, but it's not the whole story.

So let's explore the topic in a little more depth...

Imagine you're at a party where you meet a lot of strangers. If you're like me, you'll forget most of them by tomorrow. Of those you remember, what sticks in your mind? Three principal things: name, appearance and personality.

Who will you remember? The ones who impress you in some way, either positively or negatively. People with whom you've carried on a conversation, found you're on more or less the same wavelength, felt you'd like to know them better. Or, the one who made the biggest fool of him or herself.

Now, try this fantasy: supposing you were introduced to a lot of people, several times. "I'd like you to meet Joe, Mary, Steve, Shirley and Andy.  That's Joe, Mary, Steve, Shirley and Andy. Got that? Joe, Mary, Steve, Shirley and Andy." An hour passes, and none of these people distinguish themselves from the rest of the crowd in any way that matters to you. By now, how many names do you think you'll remember? If you're like me, maybe one. (Usually, the most attractive woman.)

On the other hand, supposing, at this party, you make three new friends, and spend some time chatting with each one. Mentally, you hope to get together with them again after tonight. How many of *them* do you think you'll remember?

See my point? Let's re-cast this as a listener with a dial full of radio stations, punching the "seek/scan" button. And every time they stop at a new station, they hear the call letters, frequency or slogan. How many do you think they'll remember?

But now, our fantasy listener hears something that catches her attention:  her favorite song? Perhaps. Maybe a DJ who's saying something to which she responds emotionally. She likes what she's hearing; she enjoys the brief experience. I submit, this is the one station she will remember, because she is motivated. Motivation is more important than repetition in this process.

Why would a new listener want to remember your station so he or she could find their way back? Because you play the most songs in a row? Because you play the hottest hits? Or the most favorite oldies or the "truest" Country Music?

Don't make me laugh.

When everybody's playing more or less the same music, all in a row, you may think that your slogan or positioning statement is important to your listener, but the evidence is that he or she can't tell your station apart from all the others that are doing essentially the same thing.

Yet that's how 90% of the radio stations attempt to position themselves today. "Most hits, best variety?" If you were a listener with a choice between stations that play 10 in a row, 20 or 30 in a row, would this have meaning to you? What are you offering that he or she can't get anywhere else, and that has meaning to them?

The station must be doing something the listener can perceive as unique, and the DJ has to be talking about things that no one else in town is. Like... his/her own perceptions and responses to life, his experiences as a husband or wife, as a parent, a music lover, a shopper, a jogger, blogger, biker or bowler; above all, as a citizen of this place on this day.

Appeal to me as a fellow human being; that's what I need to motivate me to remember those call letters and that positioning statement.

No matter how many times you say it.

All About Me

I read an article about narcissism the other day. It was scary as hell. I kept saying, "That's me!" "That's not me!" "That's me!" "That's not me!"

Of course, the more I thought the article was "all about me," the more narcissistic my behavior was.

Narcissism, egotism, insecurity - they seem to be variations on a single theme. How useful -- or harmful -- is this trait (the article called it a personality disorder) to performers?

Ask any mentor, "What should I talk about/write about/paint about?" and the first answer is always, "What you know/Your personal experience." When do we cross the line from "creatively Sharing" to "Hopelessly self-involved?" The answer is: when your self-involvement reaches the point of forgetting the other guy/gal, when you're so busy thinking about yourself that the needs of the ones you're addressing never even occur to you, you're past that line.

"I'm avidly conscious of the people around me," I like to think, knowing it's only true most of the time. I'm capable of being so self-involved, I'm oblivious to others sending up cues. I'm also able to work so hard at pleasing someone who's important to me, I can come across as a total suck-up. These things don't happen every day, but they happen.

Then, yesterday, another characteristic of narcissism reared its painful head. The temple choir I sing with was performing in a city-wide interfaith concert. I screwed up. Singing a repetitive line one time too few, I reached the end of the song and shouted "Hey!" eight bars too early.

I could have crawled under the floor. Never mind that everyone I talked to later either didn't hear it at all, or said it was No Big Deal. I know in my heart of hearts, I'm incapable of screwing up quietly.

The radio analog to this is that one complaint you receive, amidst all the compliments. "Love your work, Jay!"

"You sounded great today, Jay!" "Loved your story about..."

"You egotist -- it's all about you, isn't it!"

Which one are you going to believe?

THERE'S the vulnerability all that self-centered activity has been erected to cover.

Insecurity is a part of narcissim, and expresses itself as a need for validation from others. Everyone loves to be complimented or, when the chips are down, forgiven. But for us, it's a matter of degree. Only the passage of time will dull the embarrassment I went to bed with last night, and woke up thinking about. Yes, it's all about me...

Now, let's try putting the brightest possible face on this. This sensitivity, this awareness of self, this need to talk about ourselves in public -- it may cause us to be seen as egotists, it may make us "difficult to work with," and yes, it surely makes me oblivious, sometimes, to what everyone else can see. But it also makes me interesting, appealing and entertaining. Take the microscope with which I constantly examine my own life and feelings; use it to reflect my creativity and my joy of expression, and you've almost got a performer capable of enthralling, at least occasionally.

There's another other critical ingredient, I believe... Maybe I can't change who I am, but knowing the personality trait that puts others off -- audiences, colleagues, lovers, friends -- I can bend over backwards to make it work for me. Our first instinct is to ask, "What does he/she think of me." Our second is, "How can I please him/her?" Our third is "What does he/she need or want?" That third one is the useful one for us performers.

Awareness of others -- whom you're affecting and how -- the other person's needs... It comes so naturally to some. I grieve that I have to work at it -- and even then, I don't always get it right. When I do, I can be ten feet tall and bullet-proof for a day. When I screw up, I'll be wounded long after everyone else has forgotten. When I focus on the needs of the people around me, I can please them to the point of worship. When I lose sight of them, I'm just another long-winded egotist.

    -- another Jay Trachman treasure (this one from November 2002)

Where You Can Shine

Another Jay Trachman treasure (click to learn why I occasionally reprint these wonderful articles which Jay wrote weekly for more than three decades):

I had a fascinating discussion with a person who works for one of the satellite programming companies. He suggested that well-done satellite syndication can "sound" as local as necessary, through the use of devices like pre-cut liners, and insertions of local information.

When I replied that "liners" don't make a station sound local, his response was, "Just how local do you want it to sound?" The weather is local, the PSA's are local, the news is local -- how much more do you need? He went on to point out how, if local-ness is any standard, they must be doing it adequately, because they're beating dozens of stations in market after market.

I can't argue the point. It appears that well-executed non-local radio will beat out poorly executed local radio almost every time. But I also believe, on a level playing field, comparing top-notch satellite radio with top-notch local radio, the local will win -- provided they sound local.

Local does not mean simply repeating, six times an hour, "Jayville's home-town radio!"

It does mean that most of what the jocks talk about should be derived from what's going on in their lives in the community today. It means that most personality raps should be written by the personality him/herself.

It means the personality should live in the community, should involve himself in local activities as much as he can, should read the local section of the paper every day, should participate in the life of the area.

It means the station should try to have air-staff show up at events (paying for their time when appropriate), and that the programming department must have a way of systematically informing the jocks of what events are coming up and what artists are performing locally.

One of the simplest things you can do is to stick your head out the window at least once an hour. Does it look like rain? Is it clearing up? Are there still a few leaves left on the trees? Californians: does it look like "earthquake weather?" Midwesterners: tornado weather? Does today remind you of some Christmas past? These go beyond the forecasts, and make you shine as a person involved in the town.

When reading the paper, don't just skim the front pages; read the births, marriage announcements, "community calendar" features and even the ads. Is someone holding an event, but didn't bother to inform your Public Service Department? Don't ignore them -- talk about it in an informal way. "I see the Rotary Club is getting ready to pick out next year's crop of exchange students... I have a friend whose daughter is in France this year, through the Airport Rotary Club, and from her letters, it's like she's been 'adopted' in a foreign country. I wish I'd gotten mine involved in something like that..."

Remember, the purpose of local content is not to "inform," but to Share. To get the listener to respond by saying, "Hey, me too." Your observations while driving, while shopping, while raising kids in the local schools -- these are all things nobody based outside the town can have. Share your responses, and over a period of time, you'll give your listener a sense that you're keyed in to what's going on in his or her life.

The station benefits when the entire staff is actively supporting this. I remember doing a very successful bit after a salesman came in during my show one morning and said, "You should see the jam-up on Shaw Avenue! They're re-painting the traffic lines in the street, and it's backed up all the way from Fashion Fair to the college..." That's not just a traffic report, that's a universal and a commentary on life in my town. "They always pick the worst possible times to re-paint the lines, right?" And with that, the phones began lighting up, with half a dozen calls from listeners with similar experiences, or suggestions.

No satellite could have done it.

What they can do is talk slickly and interestingly about the music, the artists, the season, their own lives and responses.

But the main area where they're unable to compete is "today, right here."

You can.

Good Intentions (From A&O's 'Trachman Files)

I suspect a lazy streak runs through most creative people. We tell the world we're looking for a *better* way to do things, but what we're really after, deep down, is an *easier* way. Why else would we choose a profession which, at least from the outside, looks like the easiest of all? To get paid for simply talking; to sit and listen to music for several hours a day -- tell me that isn't a large part of what drew you to this Biz... No matter that you soon found out it's more complicated than that -- by then we were stuck, committed, and yet, beneath it all, still questing for that ideal on-air job, where they pay you more than you can spend, just for being yourself
behind a mike...

More evidence of our laziness: we pay lip service to many wonderful ideas that never get put into practice. I teach DJs how to prepare material for their shows; they almost always agree that this is a good idea. Yet, if, months later, I ask to see their prep sheets, not one in ten will be doing
any...

I invite talents on client stations to send me tapes so we can critique them together. On the phone, they respond like I have just offered them part of my soul. Four out of five never send the tape and of those who do, it can be months before we find an hour to spend together listening to it.

I urge PDs to critique their jocks regularly, and there isn't one who's ever said to me, "That's a low priority; maybe I'll get around to it some day when I have time." And yet -- well, you know...

I present workshops at radio stations, and when they're over, often I'm walking on air, delighted at how well my ideas were received. As if to underscore my perception, they invite me back months later to do it again.

They can't have been just "shining me on" -- they're spending money to have me return! But when I arrive, I often wonder if I've ever been there. None of those bright ideas have actually been embraced. Nobody's doing any real show prep, the PD has never gotten around to critiquing on a regular basis and the station sounds pretty much as it did before...

What gives?

I think it's that lazy streak I referred to earlier. I don't mean this in a judgmental way and I most certainly include myself in the group. I could tell you a hundred things I should have done over the past ten years, that I just never got around to. Is there an answer? Or are we doomed to continue sliding by with a minimum of effort, following the path of least resistance on down to oblivion? When they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, this must be what they mean...

The antidote is already well known to your sales and management colleagues, although they may have different names for it: rational selfishness; identifying your own, long-term best interests, and acting on them.

It is in your own selfish interest to prep material for your show. That's how you become the sort of personality that draws people back to hear more.

That's how you advance your on-air career, survive "house-cleanings," get better jobs, earn more money. If that doesn't motivate you, then you're not just lazy, you're plumb self-destructive!

It is in your best interest to get critiquing, and if you can't get it from the PD or from me, get it from someone else; a colleague, a spouse, even your child. Maybe you know more about radio than they do -- so what? "Wise men learn more from fools than fools ever learn from wise men."

The truth is, performing requires a different set of talents than coaching or critiquing. All great performers have coaches or directors.

If you're a PD, coaching/critiquing your air staff -- helping a major component of your product to improve -- should be one of your highest priorities, not your lowest. It's one of the key ways you get ratings, and that can only benefit your station and thus, you, personally, in the long
run.

Our native laziness may help us to be creative, to be clever, but it's self-defeating when it gets in the way of delivering the efforts required to achieve success. Are there things you know you should be doing to benefit yourself in the long run?

When do you plan to start?

-- Written and distributed by my hero Jay Trachman on August 26, 2002. Ten years ago and really only the references to 'tape' make it sound anything but completely relevant today.