What do anarchists and libertarians have in common? Both believe that the state can too easily become too powerful, too influential within domains where it has no moral legitimacy. Sure, we have governments because we must have a body to manage the armed forces and the police, administer the laws and redistribute taxes. But why, for example, should governments fund sports, film production, theatre, art galleries, writers' festivals, TV channels showing drama and comedy, or radio stations devoted to music?
Theorists can of course debate over this topic for ever. So let's make the issue more specific.
Why are we all paying for TripleJ? Who makes the playlists? And when did it become cool for the government to anoint each new fashion in popular music?
First some history. TripleJ began as 2JJ back in the 1974. For years, it was run from a cramped, makeshift, almost Dickensian suite of rooms in a rabbit warren off William Street, Kings Cross. You could only pick it up in Sydney, and often only when the geographic and atmospheric conditions between you and the transmitter were favourable. The program presenters as I remember them were hairy, counterculture stoners, mostly rejects from commercial radio, older dudes and and ladies who had their own comprehensive record collections and who were permitted - encouraged even - to bring stuff in to work and share their gold with the listeners. When the station opened, I was in high school, I heard the very first broadcast, and I loved it.
Sure, this was government radio from the get-go. But to the limited and loyal listenership, it felt more like a secret society. In the world at large, whether you were hanging at the shopping mall, buying a pie at the beachside takeaway or being stalked on Parramatta Road by a GTS Monaro with its windows down, you did not hear 2JJ. Suburban and city clubs weren't interested in this 'alternative' station's catalog; they had their own, well-patronised discos and cover bands. And in the workplace, God help you if you tried to shift the radio dial from high-rating 2SM or one of its clones for a break from the 20-hits playlist and constant, intrusive promotions. Because, inevitably, most of your bogan workmates just didn't 'get' the Jays.
Throughout the eighties, Double (and then Triple) J maintained its niche market and cool image by playing the stuff the others wouldn't touch. In tandem with the burgeoning pub rock scene, The Jays helped Aussie music in particular to reach many formerly disenfranchised younger punters across the country. But during the nineties, noting the expanding broadcast coverage of Australia's 'youth network', the commercial stations themselves began to mine TripleJ for potential hits. Obviating the need to risk sponsor-paid airtime by trying out alternative sounds, the mainstream simply watched and waited while the Jays broke the new waves of music rolling in from New York or London, Seattle or Manchester or wherever. Then, three months after JJJ had discovered the next big thing, MMM, for example, would start flogging it. A good business strategy indeed.
During the naughties however things really began to move at TripleJ. After a major overhaul of on-air staff some years earlier TripleJ had acquired the vibe of a slick corporate house. Presenters became younger and segments snappier, station IDs and promotions more frequent and gratutious. With a frontline roster boasting former stand-up comedians, TV satirists and indie rock stars TripleJ was becoming more and more a celebrity circle. At last the Jays were seriously challenging the other music networks in the ratings, and didn't they know it.
"We love Australian music!" became the raison d'etre, the mission statement, expressed in a constant chant of ever-younger promotional voices. And to demonstrate its zeal, the station had ramped up its regional and city-based talent contests in an almost maniacal search for new bands to hype. Weren't there sufficient already? By the second decade of the new millenium all this "unearthing" had finally become too costly and labour-intensive an exercise. Where others may have ditched the competition concept altogether, TripleJ's masterstroke was to set up an entire alternative station using easy-access digital platforms, a skeleton staff and minimal
hardware. Unknown bands no longer had to wait for the Unearthed wagon to roll into their town. Now, all they had to do was record themselves and send a file and photo in to TripleJ for cataloguing. Instead of scouts going out looking for talent, the talent would simply come to the station. Another great business strategy.
All that talent delivered to the door free of charge. Win win... or was it?
Well, what indeed have we got for our tax dollar? What's being hyped on one or other of the Jays these days?
Have a scan of the Unearthed Charts - if you have a spare month or two. And try to find anything that is actually any good.
Have a sample listen to the "Hottest 100" and ask yourself honestly whether or not there's more than a handful of strong, well-crafted, emotion-laden pieces of music that will still matter in the future.
I'll get back to you shortly.
Bye for now.
Rip.
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