23 August 2025

You can lead a boss to wisdom but you can’t make her an expert Expert Witness : 2006 : Claire Enders, Enders Analysis

 Another day, another meeting. Though this one was most unusual. Not a word had been spoken during the past hour. I was sat in the basement Meetings Room. I had a pile of papers in front of me to discuss. I had thoroughly prepared. However, after arriving early, I was still the only person present. My boss had insisted upon this meeting. So where was she? There was no phone call or message to inform of a delay. One really is the loneliest number. Having waited an hour, I returned to my desk upstairs in the team office. Strangely, nothing would ever be mentioned to me about that meeting. It was as if it had never not happened.

Once is an accident. Twice might be a coincidence. Three times is an act of passive aggression. This should have been the last of three meetings demanded of me in an email from my boss’ personal assistant. Their purpose was to brief Claire Enders about the processes by which British radio stations make payments to songwriters for playing their music. She was to be grilled as an ‘Expert Witness’ during a landmark hearing of the obscure ‘Copyright Tribunal’ that had all the trappings of a court proceeding. However, she never arrived for any of those three meetings, never explained her absences and no subsequent attempt was made to reschedule them. For three hours across three days, I had been waiting in vain. The email to me had read:

“We have put in the diary 1pm on Wednesday 13th September for you to spend the afternoon with Grant. We have also blocked off 10th/11th October for your second session with Grant.”

Claire Enders had responded to me and two colleagues who were tackling non-radio issues:

“The initial format I would favour is seminars each w GG [me], JB and AE to outline the key issues covered by each and how we have dealt w them. I will take notes. Ideally, each of GG, JB and AE should this week prepare a set of materials for the topic covered which includes all pleadings and relevant points and witness statements divided by topic. I will then read the materials then expect to be quizzed by each of GG, JB and AE on each topic until I am word perfect. Plse copy this to GG Thank you Plse don't forget that either GG or JB need to be in court with me for my evidence (two full days) and either one will have to have an encyclopedic grasp of our three reports in order to assist.”

After our September meeting had become the first unexplained no-show, the timing of two further dates arrived by email: “GG in for 9th October 3pm, 10th October 1.30pm”.

Why had it fallen upon me to tutor the ‘star witness’ of the defence team? I had been hired by Enders Analysis that April to research and write analyses for its subscribers about the British radio industry [see blog]. However, by year end, I had found no time to write anything for publication. Instead, I was waylaid once my employer discovered that I seemed to be the only person in the office who understood the intricacies of music copyright. I was surrounded there by ‘analysts’ who wrote reams about their specialist media industries but who seemed scarcely to have sullied their hands working on the ‘shopfloor’ of sectors they professed to understand intimately.

I was different from them. They knew it, I knew it. They were posh. I was not. They had been privately educated. I had been born in a council house. My knowledge of the radio industry had been amassed from working my way up from ground zero, fuelled by a childhood thirst for knowledge about broadcasting. I was still at junior school [see blog] when I created multiple scrapbooks filled with newspaper articles about radio, scissored and UHU-ed from my parents’ and grandparents’ daily newspapers. I was still at secondary school [see blog] when I presented weekly music programmes on multiple London pirate radio stations, as well as producing identification jingles played across their output.

In 1980, my first paying job was at Newcastle commercial radio station ‘Metro Radio’ [see blog] whose declining ratings I turned around using my knowledge of pop music, my study of American music radio playlist systems and my economics training. One of my additional responsibilities as acting head of music was to correlate the reporting to copyright agencies of all the music played. Every presenter of every programme was required by law to handwrite A4 forms that recorded for each record played its song title, its artist, its record label, catalogue number and the duration in minutes and seconds it was used on-air. Around 300 songs played each day resulted in dozens of scrappy pages that regularly contained only partial information and blank spaces. A replacement computer system had been promised but never appeared. The forms had to be dispatched to three British statutory music copyright agencies: PPL, PRS and MCPS.

Some presenters hated this ‘extra’ work. They would put off doing the paperwork until their live show had finished, then forget and zoom off, instead piling all the records they had played in their locker, along with the blank forms and a vague promise to do it ‘later’. Much of the station’s record library ended up locked away for weeks in presenters’ lockers bursting with vinyl unavailable for airplay. When pressed to complete forms weeks later, they would have no memory of which track they had played from an album or its on-air duration so, naturally, they just made it up. From my perspective, any completed form – however inaccurate – was better than none at all and would reduce the grief I received from copyright agencies about missing data amongst the reams of paper submitted. It was chaotic. Did any artist or songwriter ever get paid the correct amount by the radio station using their works?

In 1990, prior to launching London’s KISS FM [see blog], I had to create a reporting system from scratch for the music it played. I was the only management team member who even understood our legal copyright obligations. Again, the promised computer system never arrived. I appointed one team member, Myrna McHugh, to co-ordinate the paper-based administration and, during our busiest times of the year, the workload required her to supervise a team of ‘temps’ hired to collate the voluminous information. The station regularly played ‘mixes’, ‘dubplates’ and ‘white label’ records whose copyright details were particularly challenging to determine.

In 2001, working in India on the launch of its first commercial FM radio station ‘Radio City’ [see blog], I met with the country’s copyright agencies to understand how to create a system to report the music played. Though our station was owned by Rupert Murdoch’s ‘Star TV’ business, I invited our competitors, including ‘The Times of India’ newspaper, to my presentation in a Mumbai hotel conference room to explain how music copyright functions and the legal requirements with which all our newly licensed radio stations would have to comply. I was pleased to be teaching my acquired knowledge to others.

By the time I joined Enders Analysis in 2006, my three-decade media career had also taken me to work at radio stations in Israel, Russia, Hungary, Germany, Latvia, the Czech Republic, Lithuania and Estonia [see pdf].

I stumbled into my latest job just when a music copyright dispute was about to be heard before the Copyright Tribunal. The earliest wave of American online music streaming businesses had launched in Britain and disputed how much they should have to pay for the music they played to their subscribers. Their argument was simple: claiming their business model was no different from existing British commercial broadcast AM/FM radio stations, such as London’s ‘Capital Radio’, so they should pay the same low rates. However, those rates had been agreed in 1973 when commercial radio was first licensed in Britain, an era when it was unimaginable that consumers would someday request and hear specific songs via the internet.

The songwriters, represented by the Performing Rights Society (PRS), disputed the argument of these online businesses who added no ‘radio station’ value in the form of presenters, information, news and features to their non-stop back-to-back music. PRS had hired Enders Analysis to provide data and arguments to win its case. Claire Enders would appear before the Tribunal as an Expert Witness for PRS. During the months leading up to the Tribunal hearing this case, my role was to refine those arguments and to research/analyse the radio and music streaming markets to provide documented evidence. Some of this work I have subsequently published, such as ‘The Differences Between Traditional Terrestrial Broadcast Radio and Internet Radio’ and ‘Audio Podcasts and The Market for Podcasting’ (23 and 35 pages respectively).

I recall that one day, waiting at the Lebanon Road tram stop, a ‘Eureka’ moment made me realise that a document I had earlier found online undermined the argument presented by the music streaming companies that their product was ‘radio’. I contacted PRS and, working with its lawyers at Denton Wilde Sapte [see blog], we jointly developed a cohesive case backed by evidence to present in writing prior to the commencement of Tribunal hearings on 28 September 2006.

It was 5 December 2006 when Claire Enders was called as an Expert Witness before the Tribunal. I was sat in the front row on the lefthand side, between the PRS lawyers and their barrister, while the American internet team were on the opposing benches. Throughout the Tribunal, I would follow carefully the proceedings and write thoughts on Post-it notes passed to the lawyers who then made suggestions to their barrister. Enders faced me from the witness box a few metres away to the left of the Bench of three elderly judges. It resembled one of those courtroom scenes so beloved of television dramas. Enders was pressed by the barrister for the streaming services as to her expertise in the radio industry:

Kenneth Steinthal [New York Bar representing MusicNet, Yahoo!, AOL, RealNetworks, Napster and Sony]: “What exactly did you do to analyse the webcasting business before submitting your first witness statement?”

Claire Enders [Expert witness for PRS]: “In preparation of it?”

Steinthal: “Yes.”

Enders: “In preparation of it, the radio specialist I have on the team, who is called Grant Goddard, and I discussed, you know, what we were looking for, and in particular we looked at a large number of webcasts. We did a lot of internet research into the various models. We looked at what had been written about them in the US. It was also part of the job to look at how the different services behaved, you know, actually experiencing them.”

Enders: “My colleague, Grant Goddard, spends a lot of time analysing various web-based phenomena, as do many of my team, and so we listened to them and looked at how they behaved and so forth. So a lot of desk-based research and experimenting with the services themselves.”

Steinthal: “Can we separate what your colleagues did from what you did and ask you to focus on what you personally did to analyse the webcasting industry?”

 Enders: “I personally spent time on ‘Yahoo!’ and ‘AOL’.” […]

Steinthal: “Other than spending time on ‘Yahoo!’ and ‘AOL’ to get a sense of what those services were comprised of and looking at ‘Shoutcast’, again focusing on what you did to analyse the webcasting market, what else did you do, if anything?”

Enders: “I also read the -- I am sorry, I am not a lawyer, but the various documents that had been prepared by the various parties, various legal documents making various claims about their industry -- about the specific aspects of both ‘iTunes’ with the MNO’s and so forth so. I am sorry, I think those are called pleadings, but there are other documents that have different names. So I was trying to understand what the issues were between the two sides.”

Steinthal: “Did you interview anyone engaged in webcasting?”

Enders: “I did not do so personally.”

Steinthal: “Is there anything else you did, other than what you have just testified to, to ready yourself for preparing your first report in May 2006?”

Enders: “No.”

Steinthal: “Other than your experience in connection with the potential ‘EMI’ interest in ‘Viva’ and in ‘Classic FM’ in the early 90’s, do you have any first-hand experience in broadcast radio?”

Enders: “It depends what you call first-hand, because I have always been an analyst and a strategist, so that -- I am not an operations person. I have not run a station or anything, I just analyse business models. So, by that nature, one is always a bit removed from the coalface, if I may say.” […]

Steinthal: “Prior to this case, had you had any experience with respect to the licensing by MCPS or PRS of either terrestrial radio stations or internet radio stations?”

Enders: “No.” […]

Steinthal: “… I am trying to find out whether you did anything other than looking at the industry reports, for example, and talking to your colleagues as you testified earlier in doing –"

Enders: “Desk research, we did a lot of desk research.”

Steinthal: “Excuse me?”

Enders: “We did a lot of desk research, looking for – searching for information online.”

Steinthal: “Anything else that you did to inform yourself, to make the comparison that you made in your various reports between terrestrial radio and webcasting?”

Enders: “Other than looking at websites and doing desk research and listening to the stations themselves and so forth?”

Steinthal: “Right.”

Enders: “No.”

It was 11.35 on the morning of the first of day of testimony by Claire Enders. We had only started at 10.30. For the remainder of that long day and all of the next, I put on a poker face whilst cringing inside at my boss’ difficulty providing detailed answers to questions fired at her about the British radio industry. She had undoubtedly read my documents for the Tribunal, but why had she not been prepared to meet me so that I could share my acquired knowledge and expertise? Why the reluctance to fulfil face-to-face meetings she herself had demanded? Enders’ apparent view was that I toiled at “the coalface” whilst she was “not an operations person” but worked to “just analyse business models”, a latter-day Ian MacGregor to my underground mining activity. She and I never spoke about her performance those two days.

After twenty days of hearings, it took until 19 July 2007 for the judges to publish their 91-page verdict. It noted criticisms voiced during the hearings that Enders was “a commentator or a highly-paid industry observer rather than being a lively participant in any relevant field”. However, it did highlight that “in particular, she gave evidence to refute the suggestion that webcasting [‘streaming’ in today’s parlance] and commercial broadcast music [‘radio’] should be regarded as comparable products”, the argument I had successfully proven.

Overall, the judges’ verdict on Claire Enders’ performance as an Expert Witness was hardly positive:

“Even taking into account Ms Enders’ inexperience in this jurisdiction, her performance as an expert was, we thought, rather uninspiring. Her reports (which comprised a fulsome lever arch file of evidence together with numerous lever arch volumes of exhibits thereto) consisted to a large extent of data which had indeed been sourced by others, sometimes by a team which she herself led and the reliability of whose work she (often unquestioningly) relied on - only to find it wanting on closer examination. We certainly sympathise with the impossibility of mastering everything within so large a corpus of material. Nonetheless, on a number of key issues, she seemed confused, occasionally inaccurate and, more importantly, sometimes unable to provide reasons for the assumptions upon which her evidence was based. Surprisingly, she had not actually read the New JOL [‘New Joint Online Agreement’] but relied on a summary thereof. We do not wish to give the impression however that Ms Enders’ evidence was misleading; it was not. But we were not greatly assisted by it.”

Nevertheless, our client PRS and its legal team at Denton Wilde Sapte were very pleased with the Tribunal’s outcome. They invited me to participate in celebratory drinks after work in a Fleet Street members club. As the only Enders Analysis employee to have sat between them on the legal front bench throughout the proceedings, I had been impressed by their professionalism and gratitude for my contributions. My work had made a difference. Henceforth, music streaming businesses operating in Britain would be required to make considerably greater payments (‘royalties’) to songwriters whose music they were using. Not merely songwriters within Britain but throughout the world. The business model of American music streaming services operating in the UK would necessarily have to change.

In a subsequent presentation 'Online Radio: The UK Business Model' I made in 2012 to the ‘Music 4.3: Smart Radio’ conference in London, I noted how this Tribunal had determined music streamers’ costs for using songs would be much more expensive than rates paid by UK commercial radio stations. The Tribunal had decided that “the per play rates in [online] agreements for pure webcasting [music streaming] are approximately six times those … under the [commercial radio] agreement.” The reason it gave was that “the Tribunal was of the view that independent commercial radio offered quite a different service to an [online streamed] ‘music, music, music’ service”.

As the Tribunal verdict had produced a ‘win’ for PRS, Enders Analysis offered to pay for myself and my work colleagues to share a celebratory afternoon outing. I should not have been surprised that they chose to take ‘afternoon tea’ at the Savoy Hotel in the Strand, a venue for the rich and privileged I had heard of but never coveted. My younger posher colleagues enjoyed themselves at “London’s most famous hotel”. I would have much preferred to spend an evening at the Jah Shaka reggae sound system.

The Tribunal verdict noted that Enders Analysis had charged its client PRS £750,000 for “preparing their reports” though additionally there were “VAT [at 20%] and charges for [Claire Enders’] attendance at the hearing”. The judges concluded that “incurring expert fees of this order of magnitude (and even taking into account […] the substantial sums of money at stake) was, in our view, seriously disproportionate”. Enders Analysis’ billing to PRS had likely exceeded one million pounds.

Within only a few years, most of the American ‘applicants’ who had forced this costly Tribunal – Yahoo!, AOL, RealNetworks, Napster and Sony – exited the UK music streaming market, each having spent millions on legal fees and their own bevy of Expert Witness submissions and expenses. It demonstrated what a ‘black hole’ exists for American online start-ups who seem to have unlimited money to try to push their way into countries around the world on their own terms, using their own lawyers to argue the unarguable and to attempt to stomp on overseas legal precedents. 

My first nine months at Enders Analysis had been diverted into full-time work on this legal case instead of writing media analyses for its subscribers. Regardless, I had been pleased to utilise my ‘expert’ knowledge of music copyright gained over decades on the radio industry shopfloor. One day at work, Claire Enders stopped me on the office staircase, thanked me for my work on the Tribunal and unexpectedly offered me a bonus which I gratefully accepted. It may have been no more than a few percentage points of her ginormous fee but, combined with accumulated savings from my and my wife’s salaries, it provided us a deposit for the purchase in 2007 of our first home … at the age of forty-nine.

It was the first and last bonus I received in any workplace.

13 August 2025

Traitor at the gates of soul : 1990 : Tony Blackburn, Capital Radio versus KISS 100 FM, London

 Pop music had been outlawed by the British government. Twiddle the dial of an AM transistor radio and you would not have found a single UK radio station playing the hits of the day. It was crazy. Contemporary popular music, along with the latest fashions and art, had become Britain’s biggest cultural exports. The ‘British Invasion’ had taken America by storm a few years earlier. Liverpool’s Beatles were the most popular pop group in the world. Yet none of this music could be heard on radio in Britain. It was so crazy.

The British establishment, populated by the upper classes, had always looked down their monocled noses at popular culture. It had never touched their lives because they inhabited a world of people just like themselves who valued classical music, opera and English literature. Not only did pop music appear entirely frivolous to them, but it was an artform they found difficult to completely control. Not only did pop music’s lyrics (‘Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds’?) baffle their sensibilities, but they suspected songs were laced with messages (‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’?) that might incite rebellion against their rightful position at the apex of British society.

The radio waves of Britain had been tightly controlled by the British government almost since the earliest invention of the medium. Although commercial radio stations playing pop music had existed in the United States since 1920, Britain’s elite remained doggedly determined to maintain a firm grip on every item broadcast to a heathen population that needed to be managed and patronised. From its beginnings until the present day, our government-controlled BBC has been stuffed with Oxbridge graduates who resolutely uphold the class status quo.

Despite the birth of rock’n’roll in 1954, BBC radio had remained determined throughout the 1960’s to ignore the resultant resurgence of British popular music that held unprecedented appeal amongst the young generation. Though The Beatles had sold more records than any other musicians in history, you would never know it from listening to BBC radio. The Fab Four’s songs were mostly confined to occasional live guest appearances on the ‘BBC Light Programme’ that my father anxiously recorded on his second-hand Uher reel-to-reel tape recorder so that we could replay their beloved pop music ad nauseum. Otherwise, the BBC’s lone music radio station remained firmly stuck in a bygone era.

On 14 August 1967, the United Kingdom parliament had passed ‘The Marine Broadcasting Offences Act’ whose outcome was to ban the British population from listening to pop music on the radio. From the early 1960’s, to the annoyance of the country’s elite, smart entrepreneurs from the US, Canada and Ireland had filled the yawning gap in the British radio market for pop music by anchoring ships off its coast, transmitting unscripted North American disc jockeys playing chart hits from beyond Britain’s territorial waters. Whenever we journeyed in our family car, I was always sat on the front bench seat of our Rambler between my parents, in charge of the volume and tuning dials of its American-made AM radio. Our favourite listening since its arrival in 1964 had been pirate radio ‘Big L’ on 266 metres that played lots of Motown soul and pop songs.

At midnight on 14 August 1967, Big L and its offshore companions closed forever, all made illegal by the new legislation. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the pop music radio station we adored had been eradicated from our lives. Pirate radio ships had enjoyed immense audiences, too popular for bigwigs at the non-commercial BBC and the stuffy British establishment to control, and (shock horror) they had used advertising revenues to fund their unlicensed activities. Commercial radio would remain outlawed in Britain until the following decade. Our household was reduced to listening to the multiple reel-to-reel tapes my father had previously recorded with a microphone from radio and television shows, though we already knew the songs’ running order by heart.

Weeks passed until 30 September 1967, the memorable day that pop music returned to the British airwaves when the BBC launched a new national station it named ‘Radio One’. The British government had implemented a ‘stick and carrot’ strategy by having banned the popular pirate stations whilst simultaneously forcing a reluctant BBC to initiate a replacement pop music service. This was a repeat of the 1945 fiasco when the government had had to force the BBC not to close its much-loved temporary wartime radio service of popular entertainment, the ‘BBC General Forces Programme’, and instead maintain transmissions to motivate Britain’s post-war weary working class [see blog]. Ironically, both these stations, BBC Radio 1 and the renamed ‘Radio 2’, would attract considerably larger audiences by playing recorded music than the BBC’s more expensive networks of original drama, discussions, classical music and news (‘Radio 3’ and ‘Radio 4’) that targeted the chattering classes predominantly in the Home Counties.

To those of us who had been committed fans of Big L, the BBC’s new pop station sounded like a pale carbon copy, even employing many presenters who were already household names from their pirate days. ‘Innovation’ at the BBC has long been the outcome of it copying someone else’s ideas that had already proven successful (viz BBC launched ‘1Xtra’ only after the success of my ground-breaking black music format at ‘KISS 100 FM’). Not desiring its new team of young, long-haired, non-Oxbridge presenters to spoil the refined atmosphere so carefully cultivated in Broadcasting House, the BBC installed these recruits in an out-building across the road named Egton House.

Bizarrely, the BBC made no attempt to ensure Radio 1 possessed brand integrity, frustrating its intended young audience by making the new station ‘share’ some daytime shows with long-time Radio 2 old fogey presenters (such as former 1950’s crooner Jimmy Young), and by not broadcasting at all during evenings when teenagers were most readily available to listen. The resulting junctions were jarring. I recall the Number One pop chart single unveiled before seven o’clock every Sunday by Alan Freeman on Radio 1’s ‘Pick of the Pops’ show, then immediately switching to Radio 2’s anachronistic ‘Sing Something Simple’ show of post-war karaoke tunes that ran for 42 years from 1959. I can still sing its dreadful theme tune that signalled my rush to the radio’s ‘off’ button.

From his very first Radio 1 programme, for years to come I would wake every weekday to Tony Blackburn’s breakfast show on my bedside radio alarm clock. I already knew him from his pirate Big L days, but the national exposure on the new station’s most listened to show catapulted him into national celebrity status. He went on to present the weekly BBC TV pop music show ‘Top of the Pops’, to appear on Mike Read’s ‘Pop Quiz’ TV game show and to host the ITV series ‘Time for Blackburn’. When he split from his actress wife Tessa Wyatt, the tabloid newspapers had a field day. His radio shows were always upbeat, optimistic and entertaining, accompanied by the barking of his fake pet dog Arnold.

Blackburn was an unabashed fan of soul music and was able to slip in the odd personal favourite amongst the playlisted pop records mandated by his staid BBC producer, Johnny Beerling. His persistent airplay of the song ‘Remember Me’ from the Diana Ross album ‘Surrender’ persuaded EMI Records to release it as a UK-only single that reached chart position seven in 1971. He wrote sleeve notes for several UK soul albums including the ‘Motown Chartbusters’ series and live albums by The Temptations and The O’Jays.

In 1973, the BBC put thirty-year old Blackburn out to pasture on Radio 2’s mid-morning show, replacing him on the Radio 1 breakfast show with twenty-four-year-old clever clogs Noel Edmonds, much heralded as the station’s ‘rising star’ since joining in 1969 rather than accepting his university place. It was time to retune my morning radio alarm to new offshore pirate radio station ‘RNI’. Although Radio 1 had been broadcasting a weekly soul show on Saturday afternoons, Blackburn was inexplicably never its presenter. However, in 1980 Blackburn did return to Radio 1 as host of the weekend breakfast show which would abandon its previous, child-centric ‘Junior Choice’ identity under which posh presenter Ed ‘Stewpot’ Stewart had played almost the same ‘comedic’ records week in week out for the last twelve years.

In 1981, Blackburn joined local station ‘BBC Radio London’ where, freed from the musical straightjacket exerted by Radio 1 producers, he could play soul music to his heart’s content on its weekday afternoon show. Fellow soul music fans Robbie Vincent and Dave Simmons had already played much black music there since its launch in 1970. Blackburn’s arrival, followed by Dave Pearce in 1984, cemented the station’s reputation amongst London’s black music fans as the only legal station worth a listen alongside the capital’s multiple pirate broadcasters.

In a masterstroke of mismanagement, this soul music ‘beacon’ on London’s airwaves was destroyed at a stroke in 1988 when the BBC decided to transform its predominantly music station into an all-talk station, sacking existing presenters and appointing Matthew Bannister from Capital Radio’s daily evening news show ‘The Way It Is’ to manage the renamed ‘GLR’. I attended the Corporation’s overhyped launch press conference (everyone arriving by Thames ferry) where it was self-evident that disaster loomed, Bannister having an excellent track record as journalist but no experience managing a radio station, let alone marketing a new brand image. Despite much bollocks propagated in the media that ‘GLR’ was the face of a revolutionary style of radio, the ratings testified otherwise. The station’s share of London radio listening nosedived from 5.0% in 1987 to 1.6% by 1992 (source: JICRAR) when it had become the second least listened to of the city’s fourteen licensed stations. The BBC had deliberately abandoned London’s soul music fans and sent us hordes back to pirate radio listening.

Immediately, Blackburn joined Capital Radio’s newly launched all-oldies ‘Capital Gold’ London AM station (previously programmes had always been simulcast on FM and AM), presenting its weekday breakfast show of pop music plus a Sunday soul music show syndicated to Capital’s co-owned UK stations outside London. This new station attracted 10.2% of London radio listening in its launch year (source: JICRAR), surpassing earlier ratings achieved during Blackburn’s seven-year tenure at BBC Radio London. His national profile was raised by television appearances on Channel 4’s ‘After Dark’ show in 1987 and Sky One’s weekday morning show ‘Sky by Day’ in 1989. I purchased his 1985 autobiography ‘Living Legend: The Tony Blackburn Story’ in an ex-library book sale and enjoyed reading it as a fan who had spent thousands of hours listening to his radio shows since the 1960’s.

When the government announced in 1988 the opening of bids for new commercial radio licences for London, the first since 1973, there was substantial hope amongst the capital’s myriad pirate stations that a black music station would be selected. Alliances were forged between existing commercial radio owners greedy for more licences so as to eliminate competitors, moneybags who had witnessed commercial radio become a ‘licence to print money’, music enthusiasts and contemporary pirate station owners. I teamed up with London pirate ‘KISS FM’ which, although not the longest running black music broadcaster, nor the most pervasive (on-air only during weekends, rather than 24 hours per day like others), had the greatest potential to win a licence.

‘Blues & Soul’ magazine published a rumour that Tony Blackburn was considering a licence bid in association with former ‘Radio Luxembourg’ DJ Tony Prince. In his autobiography, Blackburn had written that “if the [Controller] job at [BBC] Radio One is filled, I would like to open a twenty-four hour a day soul music station in London.”

In the KISS FM open plan basement room at Blackstock Mews, a planning meeting attended by more than a dozen people was held to report on progress of the licence application that would be submitted to the broadcasting regulator. Introduced to us was Dave Cash who had been hired to co-ordinate the production of the document. To this day, I have no idea how he came to be involved, how much he was paid or by whom. He had had no prior involvement in KISS FM’s pirate activities and had demonstrated no particular interest in black music during a radio career remarkably similar to Blackburn’s: presenting for pirate ship Big L, joining BBC Radio 1 at launch in 1967 to present a weekday daytime show, then defecting in 1973 to become launch production manager of London’s Capital Radio where he presented shows for the next 21 years.

The resultant KISS FM licence application submitted by Cash was weak, lacked relevant market research, offered a flimsy business plan and failed to argue a convincing case. The bid failed despite Cash’s experience from two decades in the radio industry. Whether any application would have won up against the government’s preferred bevy of old jazz music chums we will never know [see blog]. Cash’s involvement in KISS FM ended the day the licence outcome was announced. Maybe he was busy clinking champagne glasses with Capital Radio’s directors in their boardroom at Euston Tower. A jazz station would prove no competition to Capital’s fifteen-year commercial monopoly over music radio in London. Maybe even more champagne would be gulped the following year after the launch of the ‘Jazz FM’ station proved to be a ratings and commercial disaster (1% share of London listening, 1990 JICRAR).

Tony Blackburn had been moved to comment to ‘Music Week’ trade magazine: “I was amazed that the new London FM was a jazz station. I think KISS FM should have got the licence. I would have thought it would have been a soul station. If I’d been the IBA [broadcast regulator], that’s the one I would have given. The problem is, if they don’t give a proper legalised soul station soon, there’s going to be more and more pirate radio stations.”

To cut a long story short [see book], following Dave Cash’s rejected application, the government eventually offered two further London radio licences as the consequence of a lobbying campaign by Heddi Greenwood and myself at KISS FM. I co-ordinated, researched and wrote the second KISS FM licence application which won [see blog]. I then launched the newly legal station ‘KISS 100’ on 1 September 1990 [see blog] as its programme director, the sole management team member with prior UK commercial radio experience.

Tony Blackburn wrote in ‘Jocks’ magazine: “Now that KISS FM are legal, it will be interesting to see how they face up to the challenge of broadcasting for the first time on a truly competitive basis. Gone are the days when they paid nothing for playing records. Gone are the days when a truly amateur DJ, sitting in a makeshift studio in someone’s bedroom, was tolerated because he was a ‘pirate.’ And gone are the days when DJs on the station was [sic] paid little or nothing for their services. Now that KISS FM is legit, it will have to put out a truly professional sound to attract audience and advertisers alike.”

‘Blues & Soul’ magazine correctly responded that it had been the pioneering work of the many soul pirate stations, from ‘Radio Invicta’ in 1970 onwards [see blog], that had spearheaded the long running campaign for a legal black music station in London. Despite Blackburn’s evident affinity for soul music, there was nothing he had done personally to further that particular cause.

Asked his opinions before KISS FM’s launch by ‘Radio & Music’ magazine, Blackburn responded: “I’m pleased KISS FM is coming on air. I think it’s good for radio, but it isn’t guaranteed to get an audience. It’s not enough to play the right music any more – it has to be presented well.”

However, following the station’s launch, Blackburn wrote in Jocks magazine: “KISS FM didn’t so much open up on September 1st, it staggered onto the air with all the professionalism of a British Rail station announcement, infact [sic] I think some of the station announcers have better voices than a lot of the KISS FM DJs. For a whole weekend, we were subjected to humourless, badly spoken amateurs thanking the management and telling us all that they were now legal, something we’d all worked out for ourselves. At least every half hour, I was told how much the DJ loved me and that everything was ‘crucial.’ At one stage on the first day, I heard a DJ actually play a record for ‘everyone who knows me’ and then invited listeners to send in ‘fax messages on a fax ‘cause our phones ain’t workin’.’“ 

Blackburn continued in this vein for a further three paragraphs before concluding: “On radio, a good voice is important and the ability to use it properly, a lot of the DJs on KISS talk on a monotone, all sound the same and are not a bit entertaining. These people might be very good in clubs but make the station sound so bad I would go as far as to say it is not professionally acceptable. Naturally these remarks don’t apply to the professionals they have on the station such as Robbie Vincent, David Rodigan and a few others.”

A profile of Blackburn also appeared in the ‘Sunday Telegraph’ newspaper, in which he said: “When you listen to those new stations like KISS FM, it shows up how good these old guys are.” The interviewer noted, with understatement, that Blackburn “has a bit of a bee in his bonnet about KISS FM.”

Every Monday morning at nine o’clock, the heads of each KISS FM department met in its upstairs boardroom. At our next meeting, managing director Gordon McNamee insisted upon playing in its entirety from VHS cassette a five-minute commentary Tony Blackburn had broadcast on ‘Channel 4’. He seemed to take Blackburn’s criticisms very personally and asked me what was to be done. I expressed the opinion that this commentary, along with Blackburn’s similar press articles, had been cleverly staged by Capital Radio, but gave KISS FM nothing to worry about. After Blackburn had left BBC Radio One, he had criticised the station in the harshest tones. Then, after he had left BBC Radio London, he had criticised that station too. Blackburn was highly self-opinionated and conveniently seemed happy to damn any station that was not his current employer.

I suggested that, if Blackburn’s main criticism of KISS FM was that it sounded very different from Capital Radio, then it should be taken as a compliment. The huge volume of market research I had commissioned pre-launch demonstrated conclusively that, if KISS FM had launched sounding the same as every other music radio station, it would fail. It was our station’s very differences from its competitors that would make us successful. In fact, Blackburn’s stance in criticising KISS FM should only demonstrate to us that he had no idea what young people wanted from a radio station. His criticisms might even encourage more young people to listen to KISS FM than if he had said that he loved the station.

McNamee seemed unconvinced by my arguments. He was wounded by Blackburn’s comments and suddenly seemed filled with self-doubt about the station’s ‘different’ sound. I was reminded of the accusations he had lobbed in my direction late one night before the station’s launch – that it was I who would be personally responsible for the station’s failure. Now, at this management meeting, I was feeling that McNamee was too eager to blame me for Blackburn’s criticisms. Neither did I feel I was receiving support from the other heads of department present.

I could not understand what was going on inside my boss’ head. Had McNamee lost the courage of his convictions about the radio station he had co-founded? Rather than be a strong leader who demonstrated commitment to his loyal staff, McNamee already seemed to be floundering, only days after the station had launched. Through its employee Tony Blackburn’s criticisms, Capital Radio had scored a direct hit on the managing director of its first ever competitor in the London commercial radio market. It seemed to be left to me now to hold the ship steady and to demonstrate that KISS FM would only succeed if it refused to follow Tony Blackburn’s ‘advice.’

Already, I was becoming used to hearing highly critical opinions expressed publicly about KISS FM. The station was being targeted by the DJs of radio stations competing with KISS FM, and by people who were themselves probably outside of the youth audience the station was seeking to attract. For me, the fact that long established radio stations were bothering to criticise KISS FM on national television must have meant that our new, little London radio station was worrying them considerably. They had not made similar comments when Jazz FM or ‘Melody Radio’ had launched. I felt that this validated what we were doing. However, these issues would not go away and, if anything, they had started to become more significant within the station.

At the beginning of October 1990, Gordon McNamee showed me a two-page letter that KISS FM non-executive director Tony Prince had written to him, criticising the station’s unprofessionalism and expressing doubts about the daytime music policy. I met with McNamee and head of marketing Malcolm Cox and, together, we drafted a detailed response for McNamee to send back to Prince. It explained that KISS FM sounded this way not because we were sloppy or unprofessional, but because all the pre-launch market research that the station had commissioned demonstrated that this was the style of broadcasting that would prove popular with young people. KISS FM’s potential audience had stated categorically that they would not tune to a new radio station that sounded like a pale imitation of BBC Radio One or Capital Radio.

Having received McNamee’s reply, Prince still expressed reservations about the station’s direction, so I was asked to meet him in the boardroom to discuss the matter. This was a rare occasion for me to chat with one of the station’s directors. Prince’s main criticism was that there were insufficient features in KISS FM’s daytime programmes, something that, he believed, made successful radio. Why, he asked me, were there not more competitions in the morning show aimed at housewives? Could not the station introduce recipes or features that would specifically attract housewives to listen? I explained to Prince that the notion that housewives constituted the majority of radio’s daytime audience was a myth. I had painstakingly analysed the radio industry audience data to determine KISS FM’s likely listenership during the day, and it was certainly not housewives. The commercial radio industry had propagated the myth of the ‘housewife’ listener since its inception in 1973. I was programming KISS FM to appeal to the agreed target audience of fifteen- to thirty-four-year-olds. I did not believe that they wanted silly competitions or recipes. Forty-six-year-old Prince listened to me, but still seemed unconvinced. 

I knew that the only incontrovertible proof of the appropriateness of KISS FM’s current programming policy would be statistics that showed the station was attracting a significant audience. Fortunately, only a few days later, the station received the results of a market research survey that its advertising agency, BBDO, had commissioned. It showed that the station had just over 750,000 listeners between 19 and 25 September. These numbers were a solid indication that KISS FM was already on target to achieve the one million listeners it had promised advertisers by the following September. The figures also showed that 96% of listeners were within the ten- to thirty-four-year-old demographic that the station was targeting. McNamee called a meeting in the boardroom to inform the staff of this good news, and the station issued a press release the same day. More than anything, this press release helped calm the internal rumblings from Tony Prince.

Whilst I was pleased with the 750,000 figure, I knew that the only data that mattered were the official JICRAR radio industry numbers that would not be published until January 1991. Neither did I want the programming staff to think that the battle for listeners had already been won and that they could work less hard from now on. I circulated a note to all fifty-seven personnel in my department:

“Many thanks for all the hard work you’ve put in to help achieve these impressive results. We all need to keep it up so that we reach our ultimate goal of getting one million listeners tuned in ... In the meantime, it’s worth remembering that that our first full-scale audience research is underway. JICRAR started last month and continues into December. Thousands of people all over London are filling in diaries right now every day with what they listen to on the radio hour by hour ... So, we’ve come a long way in the first month. Let’s carry on in the knowledge that we’re on the right course and can turn KISS into the most successful new radio station ever heard in London.”

The target demanded of me by the business plan was to attract one million listeners per week by the end of KISS FM’s first year on-air. I achieved 1,078,000 listeners within the first few months (2.7% of London listening, 1990 JICRAR; growing to 3.4% in 1991), while the proportion of housewives listening to our daytime shows was proven to be a mere 9%. If I had failed, I would have been sacked. Once I succeeded, I was sacked anyway by a boss desperate to take the credit and my job [see blog]. I took no pleasure observing him then lead the station on a downward ratings spiral to a low of 2.3% (source: 1993 RAJAR replaced JICRAR).

I never met or heard from Tony Prince again. I never met Tony Blackburn. Both had frustrated my work. Neither had managed the launch of a new radio station, let alone one with a ground-breaking music format that truly became “the most successful new radio station ever heard in London” … since Capital Radio's debut on 16 October 1973.

[Includes extracts from ‘KISS FM: From Radical Radio To Big Business: The Inside Story Of A London Pirate Radio Station’s Path To Success’ by Grant Goddard, Radio Books, 2011, 528 pages]