#20 - Hot Wax: Radio Wulfrun gets a new guest DJ



I now know how to avoid a 'vocal crash'...
and how to alienate hungry listeners

Chris Moyles, Scott Mills, Christian O'Connell, Philip Schofield...and Jamie Angus. That's right people, I can now proudly list myself amongst these famous broadcasting names after successfully completing #20 on my list: to appear on a radio show.
And why do I list myself amongst these established broadcasting names? Well, I'm glad you ask. It's because they too launched their broadcasting careers on hospital radio; and that's exactly what I did yesterday.

I've always loved listening to the radio. Nowadays I think it's fair to say I'm more Drive Time Radio 2 rather than hip and happening Radio 1, but I've always loved the idea of being a radio DJ. The radio has been a focal point in our culture for more than a century now. From Churchill's war time addresses, to US DJ Alan Freed coining the phrase Rock 'n' Roll. From sport to music and from current affairs to the shipping forecast, the radio is as popular as ever with the average listener tuning in for 21.3 hours of radio a week - and for the poor folks at New Cross hospital - yesterday they got 3 hours straight of me.

That's right - my '30 things' list was deemed interesting enough to hit the 'Radio Wulfrun' hospital airwaves! Plus my mate's dad is the DJ and he had a 3 hour marathon stint to fill. The plus side is I managed to avoid the urge to shout 'Goooooood Mooooooorning Vietnaaaaaam!' or to steal Chorley FM's 'coming in your ears' slogan. Not sure that would have gone down too well.

And what did I learn? I learnt that a 'vocal crash' is a big no-no. That's when the DJ talks over the lyrics and I can now say I know my Daniel O'Donnells from my Pavarottis. In hindsight, a set list of the Stereophonics, the Divine Comedy and Olly Murs could have been a tad off the mark for the audience - Olly Murs could have potentially finished a few of them off.

But it was great fun. Radio Wulfrun was celebrating its 30th birthday with a 30 hours non-stop live broadcast. Dave Ward's usual midweek-melee was replaced by 'Dave's Breakfast Kitchen'. And we had the snacks to prove it. Muffins, brioche, cookies and rocky-road bites. I suppose if you're going to fall into a diabetic coma - that's the best place to do it. And we had no qualms telling the listeners what we were eating. Again, in hindsight, not the most sensitive of topics considering our listeners were just being served up some soggy toast, or, even worse, were nil by mouth. We reviewed the newspapers (well, one newspaper), my mate Bordy played some acoustic numbers in the studio and I told a few anecdotes from my '30 things' list. The dance lesson in particular seemed to go down well!

My chosen set list? Divine Comedy, Jamie Cullum, Stereophonics, Oasis, Little Richard, Sam Cooke, Status Quo, Olly Murs, ELO and Otis Redding. A little bit of middle of the road for everyone there I reckon. I could give Alan Partridge a run for his money yet.

It was great to simply be in a studio seeing how it all works. Even for a hospital radio station, it's a complex business and it's really not as easy as it might sound. DJs work damn hard and making sure the air time is always filled is a fine skill - one which DJ Dave has honed over the years.

Above all else - it was really good fun. Three hours just chatting away with my mate, his dad and his production assistant Ann. We had a great laugh. Some of the listeners may not have been able to reach for the off switch (on the radio that is - not life support, we weren't that bad) but the important thing is, I enjoyed myself!

A massive thanks to Dave Ward, my mate Bordy and everyone at Radio Wulfrun. They're all volunteers and do a great job. I'm not sure they'll be in a hurry to get us back on air any time soon...but at least I can say I've done it.

I'll leave you with two outros this time: a scene from the 1970s film Hot Wax - a film about the DJ Alan Freed who coined the phrase Rock 'n' Roll (that one's for you dad). And a flashback to the 80s and car trips to Weymouth...

#18 - There's nothing left for me to do...but dance?

In the past few months I've been to see Chas 'n' Dave and Status Quo; I've been laughed at as I try to use chopsticks; I've nearly drowned countless times and I was there to see Wolves get relegated to League One. But last night I endured perhaps one indignity too far...I tried to learn to dance.

Yes - that's right - coming in at number 18 on my list of things to do before I'm 30, take a dance class. And yes, it was as excruciating as it sounds.

You see, rhythm and co-ordination isn't something I've been naturally blessed with - I think I've finally come to terms with that.

Yep - that's me. Must have been 'Summer of 69'. 

It's been an evolutionary process. As a young teen I have fond memories of standing against the back wall for hours at a time at Springdale Church discos. As the girls rocked out the latest dance craze (The Macarena and Tragedy by Steps was the in-thing back in my day) the lads would sullenly stand at the back, bottle of cola-flavoured Panda pop in hand, counting down to the final ten minutes of the night when 'PJ the DJ' would put on a few slow dances (the erection section if you will). That was when we'd all make our moves and hope R Kelly's 'I Believe I Can Fly' would last forever.

But it was quite clear, even back then, that dancing was quite clearly never my thing. As I've got older the 'stand at the back' theme has continued - I've taken on what I call 'the Alton Towers role' - looking after everyone else's personal belongings whilst they go and have fun. And although the Panda pop has evolved into a bottle of Beck's, in my head, being able to sing the lyrics to Summer of '69 and Dire Straits' Walk of Life compensates for the fact that I've developed 'dad dancing' without ever actually having conceived.

Here's an artist impression of how you'd
think a salsa class would be...it really wasn't

Well, last night was my chance to put that right. Here's one tip for you though - don't go to a city centre bar when the local football team are playing at home...you feel a bit of burk when you push through a group of tanked up Wolves fans at the bar and ask 'is this where they hold the salsa class?'

Ok - I want you to think about salsa dancing...keep thinking...ok. It was nothing like any of those things. If you're like me you're thinking words like heat, elegance, rhythm, exotic. It was neither of these things. In fairness it was the Cuban Exchange bar in Wolverhampton - I'm not sure what I was expecting. The ratios weren't quite what I expected either. Me, one couple, and two other guys. Those numbers make it a tad tricky to decide who should lead for starters.

Anyway - we were put through our 'mambo paces'. 1,2,3 - 5,6,7 (I have no idea why they've left out 4?). This went on...and on...and on. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to count and move your feet at the same time. Well, I found it difficult and now have a new found respect for Bez.

 

There was indeed a murder on the dancefloor last night. My dignity and self esteem were pronounced dead on arrival. If last night was an episode of Stars in Their Eyes I would have been saying; "Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be...extremely uncomfortable, uncoordinated and counting down the seconds until this hellish experience ends". If only there'd been the sliding doors and smoke machine - I could have run away. 

The annoying thing is - if by some miracle I actually became good at dancing, it would be quite cool. The only problem is, I'm not sure I can put myself through the indignity of 1,2,3 - 5,6,7 'turn the ladies' (when of course there weren't any) again.

But whether I go again or not - I've done it. I've stepped outside my comfort zone and done something I'd normally run a mile to avoid. You can't say I'm not trying new things.

There were so many dance-related songs I could choose as an outro - Murder on the Dancefloor, Dancing Queen, Save the Last Dance For Me etc but in the end I opted for this lesser known 1974 UK number 4 hit from Leo Sayer - for no other reason than he looks really weird in this video...