Radio Listenership in Lockdown 3
It’s no mystery that music has a tangible effect on our mood. There’s a particular waltz by Richard Strauss that no matter my mood or my circumstance, fills me with dizzying sensations - it’s pure elation. Music is a balm, an antidote, and no matter your mood, there will be a song to complement and express it. But what happens when you have no agency to choose the song? What happens when your mood is one of deeply entrenched apathy?
February was long and dark.
The midpoint of the third national lockdown was also the lowest.
I sat in my kitchen, depression gnawing my insides. I felt empty. I had become a robot, my days filled with mechanical repetitive actions. The lack of outside stimulus, of company, of variety had taken a toll on my mental health and we were only halfway through the three-month stay-at-home order. Halfway through winter.
It was a chance encounter that led me to Jo. I was trying to cook and needed something to listen to but for all the marvels of the modern world, with every song ever written at my fingertips, I could not choose. Did I want something sad, or would that make it worse? Happy, or would that feel false? Could I cope with new music, or would that exhaust me? The answer was simple: radio.
Which led me to Jo. I think we’d previously met, but this was different. She was stuck at home too, in fact we all were. Every listener who texted in, every email she read was from someone who, like me, was trying to get through lockdown. Then there was the music. Each song an unexpected gem, songs I wouldn’t have thought to choose, songs that spanned genres and eras, a playlist so broad no AI could create it, a playlist that defied the neat compilations of Spotify.
So, every day at 7pm, Jo Wiley welcomed me to her corner of the airwaves, to a space filled with glittering nostalgia, wild party anthems and humans - other humans - sending each other love. It was half an hour of escape and camaraderie. Each day all I had to do was get to 7pm - that became the goal.
I believe deeply in the power of ritual to support us in moments of upheaval and change. For me, a small but significant ritual emerged, anchored to Jo’s show. A glass of tonic water, a recipe book, my fan heater slowly filing the wintery kitchen with artificial warmth and Jo Wiley’s voice inviting me to hang out with her, with the nation. I’d whisper the samples she plays at the start of her show like a prayer. Repetition created comfort in a world where so little was known and each day we existed against a backdrop of deep ambiguity and unending bad news. Cases were up, up, up. I repeated my ritual, but Jo never played the same song twice and perhaps this, more than the timetable, was the true beauty of radio in lockdown.
So, every day at 7pm, Jo’s musical choices created a link between me and every other human, trying to survive a pandemic. Families would write in about their Shiny Happy Playlist fuelled kitchen disco, and I’ll admit I found myself having the occasional disco for one. The Shiny Happy Playlist was a portal. A portal to others, to the past and to the future. Songs from my past that I hadn’t thought of in years would take me by surprise and transport me to simpler pre-pandemic times. Of course, those times weren’t without their own pain and disappointments. Returning to them showed me how far I had come, pandemic or not, and I started to feel a growing trust in myself and my resilience. I could trust that the ambiguous new world we were headed towards was one I could find a place in. I’d survive. I was beginning to trust I could thrive again too.
So, every day at 7pm, the Shiny Happy Playlist became a safe portal to the future, because I knew that whatever else was happening, however I felt, whatever the R rate was, the show would be there and I would experience togetherness, I would experience hope.
Written by Kate Maxwell
Kate is a coach and writer, on a mission to build a more creative and compassionate world. When she's not working on her PG Cert in Coaching, she's supporting filmmakers, artists, and curious humans of all shapes and sizes to build a sustainable, exciting and gentle creative practice connected deeply with their values. She hangs out on Instagram at @kate.max.arts or on her blog www.katemaxwellcoach.com, come say hi!
