In revisiting the first James Bond flick the other day, DR. NO (1962), there was a scene in the opening where a pretty gal tries to communicate with the British MI6 from Jamaica using a two-way radio. There were dials to turn till she got the connection correctly, and had to end her part of the ongoing conversation with “over” to let the other person speaking. It was a great way of talking, could have solved many marital woes if couples quarrelled over these devices, as I imagine it:
Husband: Dear, I can't eat the breakfast. Over
Wife: What's wrong? Over.
Husbdand: Nothing, but..but...Over
Wife: But what???...Over
Husband: But the toast was burnt. Over
Wife: I didn't do it on purpose, it was the cat that did it. It was after a mouse, the mouse was after the cheese, the cheese melted and ….
Now, Imagine, the husband cannot interfere till she's done and says “over”. Less he packs up anticipating it and and leaves saying, “...you did say it was over...”
But I digress.
You see, February the 13th was International Radio day (two days ago). Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by February 14, the Impress Gals With Flowers and Chocolate day. It also happens to be my son's birthday, and what a terrible purpose-filled life his would be.
Now, it's hard to tell, but has radio become less or more relevant today? It is still around, despite the fact that everything is audiovisual, plus effects.
Like this piece from the UN, nevertheless, that states:
“....As the world changes, so too does radio – evolving as it records humanity’s history by following and adapting to societal developments.
This has been extremely clear during the coronavirus crisis, where, among other things, the medium has made it possible to ensure the continuity of learning and fight against misinformation....”
Growing up in the plantation, the radio was integral for us, indeed, it was almost soundtrack of our life in retrospect. The station may, perhaps, be playing a beautiful song about a girl's pretty face, which is compared compared to flower; and imagine at that time your mom found out that you finished the pastries she made for tea slightly after lunch, and all hell broke loose.
Which means, when you are a forty-year-old overworked accountant listening to mp3s in your iPod on with an urgent rendevous with a commode (iPoop?), this song pops up and that scary memory overwhelms you, and suddenly everything shrinks to the point of requiring a pincer for extrication. Thank you, radio. But forget about music, there were plenty of dramas.
No, I don't mean interviews with people you don't know and don't care where the most drama is when someone tries to find the right word. This is the high point of listening to radio, where searching for words the DJ lets music play while a monkey winds his key.
Back then, there were plays on the radio. In case of Tamil language stations which we were listning to, the voice actors would be belting out their best imitation of Sivaji Ganesan or Savithiri which can be nauseating at some point, though as kids we are not actually listening to them, we were just hearing them in the background possibly because we are probably studying, or playing, or in my younger brother's case, having another encounter with a goddam snake.
Yes, take any generations from now to back in most decades last century, radio became the chief most nostalgia-sentiment maker. The radio of these days are mostly driving companions. When I was driving Grab (e-hailing) for six months recently, I'd switch on Bernama radio, a news station with lots and lotsa interviews, some interesting, some boring...but keeps my mind active and most to let the passenger know that they have a driver who's awake..
Occasionally, I gathered up enough guts to foray into other stations only to be blown to smithereens of guilt particles. The same “I gotta rush to the loo” hurried presentation, or deejay-ing, and jokes by the DJs that are about as hilarious as watching grapes in the process of becoming raisins.
Things actually got worst at the other stations compared to what I wrote almost two frickin' decades ago here (VCD was big, back then):
“...The shows in the station is becoming the marketing tool of many companies. Marketing is a far too sophisticated and polite a word to these self-inflated, smart-as-a-pirated-VCD-vendor promoters, who are usually the founder or the chairman. The presenter and the promoter take turn in rephrasing their one sentence structure, into various versions of praises and boasts.
At times I would wonder who the real presenter, I mean the promoter, is. Hell, who cares anymore....”
How dumb I was those days. I was wrong to think of radio stations as a marketing tool for many companies. Stupid prophecy. Actually, radio stations have now become is a marketing weapon, and sex toy for many companies – by which I mean, the companies throwing PR assaults on us and pleasuring self using the broadcasting tool.
But I believe in evolution. Everything evolves, to stay constant is to stay irrelevant. Radio is evolving into a beast that I am no longer familiar with. It will not exist the same way, now that online radio stations and free podcasts are becoming equally popular. Unlike back in days where you had too few stations to choose from, these days of radio-sphere is filled with millions of stations online, on-air, in your car, bursting out from your mobile devices, barking in echo from shopping malls... and yet, they are not crystalised enough for one to bring to the grave with those sentiments and nostalgia attached.
I am wrong of course, and I am not even mourning over the fact that what was once integral, is now just something we integrate. It's like, we still have James Bond and Batman, who are no longer event makers, but just plain contents.
Speaking of James Bond, remember the girl with the radio communication device from Dr. No I was mentioning at the opening of this article? Yeah, she got shot immediately in the scene. Bullet through the right boobs. There's something symbolic about radio being no longer about communications, and something dying in the heart of the entertainment business. Or maybe I am just sad that a cute gal got her boobies shot on screen.
