Popshield

Angostura Britters

Another day in the office

Wake up at 4am, 40 miles drive in the dark, arrive at work, move some faders, drink a lot of tea, Top Cat arrives 30 seconds before TX, show Verucca Salt the talkback button, sign News Shmu’s birthday card, shake hands with the lovely Sally Townsend, air kiss Top Cat’s unshaved beard, harmonise on ‘happy birthday’ to News Shmu, set up a vegetable spot FX mic for John Wayne, fade up some ranty callers, fade up some vegetables, buy a copy of the Times for an old lady in King’s Cross Station, watch old lady blow the savings on chocolate, get my 4am-start-face stared at all the way home on the train by a strange lady, get off, squint in the sunlit, say hi to the cows, wonder where this late summer suddenly came from, get home, get shouted at by the cat, watch the SITC movie because my husband is away for the first time since we got married, I don’t even like chick flicks.  Uh oh, is my life in any way normal?

What A Carry On!

It is nearly 10am and I have arrived at The Mothership to record links for a radio documentary.  When I reach the studio, the compact cheeky cockney treasure Joan Britain is already there.  She and the producer are sitting in swivel chairs discussing the script.  

I say hello and go to offer a handshake to Joan by way of introduction.  But, darn it, I’ve gone for the wrong gesture. It is clear that Joan will not settle for less than a lovey double-kiss. Now, here is a lady with wonderfully coiffed lofty hair and high heels.  These no doubt help enormously to increase her diminutive stature whilst afoot.  However neither of them do anything to help this top-heavy tall engineer in high boots and a rucksack reach the tiny low-slung swivelling target.  To make it worse I’m not entirely sure whether I am aiming for Joan’s cheek or for the air immediately to the left and right of her cheek.  I have to summon all my powers of balance to not end up in her lap.   Thanks to pilates, I succeed.

We set up for recording. “Are you happy to wear headphones?” I say to Joan, looking at the high hair. 

“Of course, darlin’!” She replies, and puts them on TOP of her head in the neat little place between the top of the fringe and the bottom of the high bit.  Not under the chin like some other coiffed lovies I can mention.  This is how to tell if a celebrity is a good sport or not.  Somebody who doesn’t mind ruffling up their High Barnet with a pair of Desperate Dans.  Love a duck. 

When endearing/irritating attention deficit twins Jodward came in 50% of them/it was the coolest ever in the good sporting headphone challenge. Like totally. One of the Jehn or Odwards put his headphones on top of his six inch high hair and it still bounced back up twenty minutes later.  The other Jehn or Odward was, like, a total loser right because he went under the chin right.  Then they totally stole all the grapes from our fruit bowl.  Help.

Anyway, back to lovely Joan. In an unconventional twist, the producer opts to convey all his instructions to Joan on the talkback through me. It is hard not to feed a fraud giving feedback after every one of the thirty or so links including emphasis, pronounciation and so on on a subject about which I know nothing.  I lurch between overenthusiastic and a weird ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ tone.   Lucky for me she is excellent and brings much colour to the story. ”Good!”, I say. “Great!”, “Lovely!”, “Nice!” I vary. And occasionally ”One more, please” in the style of a doctor discussing a terminal prognosis.  And of course I studiously avoid the elephant command in the room: “Carry on!”

Underground burrowcasting

Absolutely loved the juxtaposition today of a slightly testy atmosphere of a room full of grown men with cameras navigating the logistics of filming a bunch of blokes wearing cuddly classic Wimbles outfits miming their new single live on the radio, and everyone taking it all a bit seriously. A discussion breaks out about whether or not it would be acceptable for The Wimbles to muck about in shot behind a business news report. Meanwhile, forearmed with the knowledge that “The Wimbles require foldback” one question I am not expecting is:- ”Can you put even more backing track in the monitors please?  The Wimbles are finding it hard to hear anything through their costumes.” Sorry, maxed out, my furry friends.  Good luck studio.

Seven Years Of Peaking Six

“O.M.G. I was working on this very show exactly SEVEN years ago today’” I say to Dave Wrong yesterday on the anniversary of DJ Reel’s passing, shellshocked by the memory.

And - lets face it - i am also a little bit shellshocked by the fact I have been working on this show for SO long…

“Were you?” says Dave.

“Yes, it was me and Gary, I remember it vividly” I recount. “News broke at lunchtime. We tore up all the prepared material and did a special tribute show”

“Really? I just can’t remember it at all.  I liked Reel, he was a nice guy wasn’t he?  Hard to get to know but a good guy” says Dave.

I warm. Then…

“By the way, I’ve been working with Gary for THIRTY YEARS” he adds. “Seven years is NOTHING!” he says.

Oh.

Line-level Cowboy Blues

How odd that one of the potentially best recordings of the year should prove to be, well, so dysfunctional.  Families on the road can be, I guess.

There are a few things necessary to secure a well-received live concert and broadcast which the industry take for granted.  We do things in a certain way for a reason and when convention is broken it can almost seem to be a lesson in how not to go about things.  For example:-

Do not randomly switch between mic and line levels on your handheld RF mics after each has been tested by three systems.

If you want a three hour soundcheck to pay off, put the monitor engineer behind the console and not behind the lead singers mic.

Avoid holding two microphone capsules together and announcing to all sound professionals in the venue that you are doing an important check for phase correlation.

Probably best not go mental about the lack of salad dressing.  

Think twice before throwing the freelance patch monkey onto the FOH desk five minutes after the gig has started having banned him from the board during s/check. 

Perhaps best for the band not to collude with the assembled audience in the event that the singer may complain about sound levels in the house.

Do not take numerous scheduled breaks during the concert for banjo tuning accompanied by announcements to the audience.  

Actually, why not?  And if the audience are denied all bass frequencies in order to keep the artist happy and able to hear the key stuff so be it. And in the scheme of it all we’ll remember and honour the unusual circumstances.

Dandy Line Mind

The parting of a celebrity and their mobile phone is a traumatic moment.  But all guests at a radio station have to go through this step. Most opt to leave it with a minder in the control room. Others take it in, but turn it to silent or off.  

Our guest this morning is wild-eyed, wild-haired, comic monitor lizard Buzz Bailiff, who adopts a typical leftfield approach.  

“Paranoid about the phone!” he exclaims, walking straight into the studio.  ”Yes, take it apart!” he says, proceeding to dismantle the phone to render it powerless.   ”Aha! That should do it!” he pronounces, separating front from back from battery and laying the three pieces on the desk in front of him.  ”Ha ha! Won’t go off now!”

For the period of the interview, Buzz looks not into the eyes of our jaunty irish host, but at the three pieces of mobile phone which he lines up in parallel then reverts around each other, always in straight lines, tessilating wildly throughout.