Extract from The Guardian
The
Commission of Audit says there is little point in funding it but,
besides its value to its listeners, how else are tomorrow's broadcasters
supposed to learn their trade?
Last week, the federal government’s Commission of Audit report recommended there
was no longer much point in funding community radio. When this annual call strikes up, the detractors cry:
“It’s tired, it’s over, the model is done. Quit giving them cash.”
The same people often snigger when imagining a community radio announcer. Let’s call him Crispin. In their minds, Crispin sits in a dark studio in faded brown corduroy trousers, shiny at the knees, broadcasting to three like-minded souls. He plays Horst Janowski’s A Walk In The Black Forest on repeat and his stale breath smells of Nescafe Blend 43 from the communal kitchen. With three sugars, thanks.
For most community radio stations in Australia today, this cliche couldn’t be further from the truth. It hasn’t been for years. But nor are they living high on the hog, siphoning their funding into extravagant lunches while quaffing champagne and taking kickbacks.
These stations are not-for-profit organisations and, beyond the bare-bones skeleton staff, are usually manned by volunteers. While most of us are busy sitting on our arses of an evening watching Masterchef or live tweeting the latest episode of My Kitchen Rules, these people give their time and effort for free because they care about their community and care about encouraging voices outside mainstream media.
I owe my career to community radio. The same, I suspect, can be said for many media types who now work for both national and commercial broadcasters. Without community radio, where else are you going to get hands-on experience? Most people don’t walk straight into a job at the ABC the minute they get a hankering to do late-night love song dedications. It’s not that simple.
And goodness knows, looking back I’m surprised anyone encouraged this confused young thing who trounced into Triple R in Melbourne wearing seven different subcultural signifiers because I couldn't commit to one look. The blue-blonde streak in the front of my hair really said something important at the time. I just can’t remember what it was.
Nevertheless, I was given a chance. My first proper gig was the overnight shift, from 1am to 6am, with two other unlikely lads (I suspect we were paired up to keep each other awake; there’s safety in numbers, hence less chance of dead air). I was so nervous I nearly froze before pressing play on a Sonic Youth CD that I’d brought in especially because I thought it would be cool enough. I didn’t know what I was doing but I was doing it. I’ve been addicted to the medium ever since.
I had no formal training before this. I hadn’t studied media at university. Yet I was welcomed, trained, encouraged, included. I felt part of a community. And I learnt along the way from seasoned professionals willing to share their knowledge.
Community radio stations don’t sit around wasting the little money they’re given, I can assure you. In fact, they can teach the rest of us how to survive in tougher economic times because they’ve always run on not even the smell of an oily rag, just a picture of one.
Without much money to play with, community radio still manages to give. Which is more than can be said for most of us.
The same people often snigger when imagining a community radio announcer. Let’s call him Crispin. In their minds, Crispin sits in a dark studio in faded brown corduroy trousers, shiny at the knees, broadcasting to three like-minded souls. He plays Horst Janowski’s A Walk In The Black Forest on repeat and his stale breath smells of Nescafe Blend 43 from the communal kitchen. With three sugars, thanks.
For most community radio stations in Australia today, this cliche couldn’t be further from the truth. It hasn’t been for years. But nor are they living high on the hog, siphoning their funding into extravagant lunches while quaffing champagne and taking kickbacks.
These stations are not-for-profit organisations and, beyond the bare-bones skeleton staff, are usually manned by volunteers. While most of us are busy sitting on our arses of an evening watching Masterchef or live tweeting the latest episode of My Kitchen Rules, these people give their time and effort for free because they care about their community and care about encouraging voices outside mainstream media.
I owe my career to community radio. The same, I suspect, can be said for many media types who now work for both national and commercial broadcasters. Without community radio, where else are you going to get hands-on experience? Most people don’t walk straight into a job at the ABC the minute they get a hankering to do late-night love song dedications. It’s not that simple.
And goodness knows, looking back I’m surprised anyone encouraged this confused young thing who trounced into Triple R in Melbourne wearing seven different subcultural signifiers because I couldn't commit to one look. The blue-blonde streak in the front of my hair really said something important at the time. I just can’t remember what it was.
Nevertheless, I was given a chance. My first proper gig was the overnight shift, from 1am to 6am, with two other unlikely lads (I suspect we were paired up to keep each other awake; there’s safety in numbers, hence less chance of dead air). I was so nervous I nearly froze before pressing play on a Sonic Youth CD that I’d brought in especially because I thought it would be cool enough. I didn’t know what I was doing but I was doing it. I’ve been addicted to the medium ever since.
I had no formal training before this. I hadn’t studied media at university. Yet I was welcomed, trained, encouraged, included. I felt part of a community. And I learnt along the way from seasoned professionals willing to share their knowledge.
Community radio stations don’t sit around wasting the little money they’re given, I can assure you. In fact, they can teach the rest of us how to survive in tougher economic times because they’ve always run on not even the smell of an oily rag, just a picture of one.
Without much money to play with, community radio still manages to give. Which is more than can be said for most of us.
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