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Terry Prone: RTÉ's 2FM exodus is understandable. It can rebuild if it learns from its past

The exodus is understandable from the point of view of those leaving. But 2FM can rebuild if it learns from its past and hires people who understand broadcasting, and are hungry to do it
Terry Prone: RTÉ's 2FM exodus is understandable. It can rebuild if it learns from its past

Gerry Ryan built his mid-morning 2FM show into a 300,000-listener behemoth. Moments such as the morning that rape victim Lavinia Kerwick phoned him live on air are testament to his status as a great broadcaster. Picture: RTÉ

The thing about 2FM is that its output has precious little to do with the public service mandate of the station.

Ergo, in theory, Kevin Bakhurst and Co could close it and concentrate their efforts elsewhere. The only problem with that option is that it would precipitate the national broadcaster offering nothing much to anybody under 60. It would be rebranded as Raidío Teilifís Elderly.

So, instead, the search begins for replacement presenters to fill the vacant slots, while The 2 Johnnies focus on their bottom line, knowing they can earn a lot more from public events and online snippets than they were able to while working every morning for 2FM. 

Plus they get to tour Australia. 

Patrick Kielty with Johnny B and Johnny Smacks on 'The Late Late Show' last September. The Two Johnnies are exiting 2FM, as are Jennifer Zamparelli and Doireann Garrihy. Picture: RTÉ 
Patrick Kielty with Johnny B and Johnny Smacks on 'The Late Late Show' last September. The Two Johnnies are exiting 2FM, as are Jennifer Zamparelli and Doireann Garrihy. Picture: RTÉ 

Compare being paid to perform in Bondi Beach with daily radio which eats material like a ravening lion. Compare being their own bosses with working for a reforming national broadcaster which demands accounting from them of everything they do outside of RTÉ in order to ensure they’re not misusing their time on the airwaves to directly or indirectly plug stuff they’re peddling or to ensure stuff they’re peddling doesn’t in any way reflect badly on RTÉ.

Same with Doireann Garrihy who clearly decided that getting up at dawn to do a daily radio show for a station that gets iffy about her plugging porridge from one of their studios was less attractive, as a career option, than it had looked at the beginning. Again, she did the maths.

Terry Prone says she yields to nobody in her admiration for Kevin Bakhurst: 'That said, this writer thinks he was barking when he tied top pay at the station to what he is personally paid.' File picture: Niall Carson/PA
Terry Prone says she yields to nobody in her admiration for Kevin Bakhurst: 'That said, this writer thinks he was barking when he tied top pay at the station to what he is personally paid.' File picture: Niall Carson/PA

Much of the thinking that has led to the departure of 2FM personnel has come from director general Kevin Bakhurst. This writer yields to nobody in her admiration for Bakhurst, an honest and clever man trying to mop up after the Tubridy flood left RTÉ a bit broke and damp. 

That said, this writer thinks he was barking when he tied top pay at the station to what he is personally paid, which is like promising you’ll become a better tap-dancer than your goldfish: The beneficial connection is kind of missing. The figure limits the possibilities for TV/radio combination presenters almost as much as the new rules about peddling goods on air or online limits the possibilities for radio presenters hired because of their social media footprint.

On Thursday, Jennifer Zamparelli became the fourth presenter to announce her decision to leave 2FM. File picture: Kieran Harnett
On Thursday, Jennifer Zamparelli became the fourth presenter to announce her decision to leave 2FM. File picture: Kieran Harnett

The 20th century assumption was that every rational broadcaster wanted to get a permanent and pensionable job with RTÉ. It was a bit like being assumed into heaven. You were never going to have to grub around as a freelance any more, living on short-term contracts. You had climbed the rope ladder onto the mothership.

Sound as a pound, you were, and, imprisoned by benign financial certainty, you would never leave — look at Gaybo, there for life, no matter how badly he was treated. Or if you did leave — look at Terry Wogan, Ian Dempsey, Pat Kenny, and Ryan Tubridy — you’d go to another radio station where you could do actual broadcasting.

Today, folk see no personal endangerment in climbing right back down the rope ladder from the mothership to go and live, instead, online as part-time content deliverers and part-time peddlers with the odd big gig, either comedy (The 2 Johnnies) or wellness (Doireann Garrihy) thrown in.

2FM was once a powerhouse

Where this leaves 2FM is in an interesting quandary. Let’s not forget that this station has had high points and generated stardom. 

Weetabix head of sales Terry Tierney announcing its sponsorship of Ryan Tubridy's 'The Full Irish' in 2002. The show captured the zeitgeist and propelled the 2FM breakfast show into a position of primacy it can only now dream of. File picture: Lensmen
Weetabix head of sales Terry Tierney announcing its sponsorship of Ryan Tubridy's 'The Full Irish' in 2002. The show captured the zeitgeist and propelled the 2FM breakfast show into a position of primacy it can only now dream of. File picture: Lensmen

Ryan Tubridy’s 'The Full Irish' captured the zeitgeist and propelled the 2FM breakfast show into a position of primacy it can only now dream of. 

Gerry Ryan built his mid-morning show into a 300,000-listener behemoth which crushed all commercial competition and even threatened the legendary Gaybo.  That’s how good 2FM was. 

That’s the reach it had, whereas The 2 Johnnies at their most successful may have come close to only of half Gerry Ryan’s listenership. 

And it’s not because of increased competition. We’ve the same number of radio stations today as we had 14 years ago when Gerry Ryan died. The fact that podcasts have proliferated like rabbits is beside the point because zero evidence suggests their listeners are taken from radio. Yet the listenership for 2FM sags like an unoccupied hammock. Which is sad, given its fine past.

Doireann Garrihy 'clearly decided that getting up at dawn to do a daily radio show for a station that gets iffy about her plugging porridge from one of their studios was less attractive, as a career option, than it had looked at the beginning. She did the maths'. Picture: Barry McCall
Doireann Garrihy 'clearly decided that getting up at dawn to do a daily radio show for a station that gets iffy about her plugging porridge from one of their studios was less attractive, as a career option, than it had looked at the beginning. She did the maths'. Picture: Barry McCall

The station gave Ireland household names — Fanning, Dempsey, Gogan, and Cagney. It took risks, got world exclusives (U2’s first single plays were once something momentous), and treated its young audience like adults. Gerry Ryan had the largest 20-to-44 audience in the country but he didn’t treat that audience like children. One of the most astonishing mornings on 2FM was when a young rape victim named Lavinia Kerwick phoned Gerry Ryan, abandoned her anonymity, and aired her suffering to the nation. 

Youth broadcasting? No. Just great broadcasting.

When has 2FM (or, let’s be honest, Radio 1) done anything even remotely that interesting in recent years? 2FM used to do the ‘Beat on the Street’ — giant block parties that closed Dublin. They were risky and creative. Now they are lost and joyless with all the excitement and edgy creativity of the Department of Social Protection. Right down to the creation of podcasts.

What's missing at 2FM  

What Doireann and The 2 Johnnies prove is that it is entirely possible to find a young audience. 2FM has all the resources of the state broadcaster and it couldn’t manage what two lads with an iPhone achieved. It had to buy them in. 

The problem for 2FM is not lack of presenters. It’s lack of pipeline, creativity, insight, innovation, and humour. The station keeps thinking it needs new salespeople when the issue is that it has no product. It is sailing low in the water with multiple-presenter programmes devoted to drivel talk.

Don't get me wrong. Drivel talk presented by two or three people is what sustains radio stations all over the English-speaking world. But the very prevalence of drivel talk means a click brings listeners to more of the same on another station.

2FM can recruit new replacements. Kevin Bakhurst indicated those recruits could come from inside the station but might equally come from outside. 

RTÉ could decide to reinvent 2FM

With new voices, 2FM could hold its own, winning enough listeners to keep the station afloat. But should that be the objective or should RTÉ’s director general and chairman view this exodus as a catalyst for radical change? They could decide to re-invent 2FM.

A new generation of listeners is always waiting. They’re at home on parental leave. Or they work at least part of the week at home. They want laughter — and to have their sense of humour flattered by a presenter. They want to be shocked and stilled. To be enraged and enlightened. They want, above all, to belong. At a time when loneliness is at an all-time high, that yearning for a human connection is there for 2FM to capture.

It will not do that by rushing out to find new “content creators”. It will do it only by creativity, insight, innovation, and humour. And then hiring folks who understand broadcasting and are hungry to do it.

   

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