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ENTERTAINMENT
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It is a familiar morning ritual.
The sound of the music on the clock
radio jars you awake, and the chirpy
mice of the morning disc jockey
prods you out of the confines of a
warm bed.
For some people, only the morn-
ng radio show can get them off to
work or class. Without the humor,
nusic, news and chatter of the
morning DJs, they would drift back
ntothe dream world of sleep.
No matter how early you crawl
nut of bed, those cheerful DJs seem
o be already fully awake and eager
to prepare their listeners for the day
ahead.
Who are these people who are
working before the rooster crows,
and with such energy?
Early morning shows usually be
gin at 6 a.m. and finish by 10 a.m.
Most DJs who work the morning
shows roll out of bed by 4 a.m. to get
to work.
While this occupation may not
sound like a career that comes with a
schedule to be envied, the early
morning shift is the most sought-af
ter by disc jockeys. Regardless of the
early hours and lack of opportunity
to sleep in late, the early morning
show is the choice spot in radio
broadcasting.
Why?
“The 6-10 a.m. slot is the most lis
tened to time slot in radio,” Roger
WWW. Garrett, K TAM-KORA
morning disc jockey says.
“It is the one time of day that
there are more people listening to
the radio than watching television. It
is prime time.
“It is the shift to have on any radio
station.”
Most disc jockeys begin their ca
reer by working the late night time
slots before graduating to day slots
and then to afternoon drive time
during rush hour. The morning slot
is the ultimate goal for up-and-com
ing DJs. _
Randy Davis, disc jockey for
KTSR-FM, jokingly says money is
the reason the early morning show is
attractive, but agrees the 6-10 a.m.
slot is the job to have.
"Everybody in radio aspires to this
position,” Davis says. “This is where
the listeners, the money and every
thing is at. The morning show makes
or breaks a radio station.
“If you can keep the listeners in
the morning, you can keep them all
day long.”
Although the morning show is the
pinnacle of radio programs, DJs say
they enjoy their work because of the
freedom the morning slot brings to
their job.
"Usually the morning DJs are
more free to use humor and to be za
ny,’’ Davis says.
“I have the opportunity to be free
from some of the formats that other
time slots must work within.”
Whereas most disc jockeys in
other time slots report the news and
play the music with minimal free
dom for chatting or comedic perfor
mance, early morning DJs use com
edy and conversation to draw the
listeners into an intimate forum.
Morning disc jockeys are often re
ferred to as personalities and the la
bel fits. Each DJ has a niche and per
sona known by listeners.
Laughter, commotion and com
edy are used often by morning radio
personalities in their never-ending
quests to wake people up.
Humor is the byword for morning
shows.
Each disc jockey has his or her
own format, whether it be a serious
or crazy show, but most use humor
in some form. Humor is the key to
waking people up.
On KKYS, “The Chuck Redden
Show” features various fictional per
sonalities like Gym Shorts, who an
nounces sports; Willie B. Clear, who
announces the weather; and LB
High, who gives the helicopter traf
fic report.
Redden, who does all the charac
ter voices, says humor is what people
need to wake up in the morning.
“I think people want to laugh in
the morning,” Redden says. “I want
to make people smile. I do the char
acters and announce birthdays.”
Davis says he tries to make people
think as well as laugh.
“I try to be funny and keep every
thing upbeat,” he says. “I try to in
voke people to call the station by
stirring up controversy. This usually
gets people revved up in the morn-
in s”
Davis says he avoids trying to use
the “smoke and mirrors” tactics of
making people think there is a zoo of
people with him in the studio.
“Some of the radio stations in the
bigger markets like Houston or Dal
las can get away with it, but it’s just
me and the listeners,” he says.
“It is too hard to fool people.
There is no reason to have people
laughing and clapping in the back
ground like there are 500 people
with me.
“People are going to laugh or they
are not going to laugh.”
Garrett, who will not divulge what
teresting job.”
Garrett says he doesn’t feel con
fused by his switches from station to
station because each show has a defi
nite personality.
“It’s a high-pressure situation but
I don’t feel like I’m developing a
split personality,” he says jokingly.
It would be natural to assume that
after closing out their morning pro
grams at 10 a.m., the disc jockeys
would make a beeline for a nap, but
the work day is not over for these
three DJs. They have much more
work to do during the day.
Redden is not only a DJ, but also
the program director and station
manager for KKYS. His work day
begins at 5 a.m. with an oldies show
and often lasts until six in the eve
ning.
“I’m definitely a morning person,
because I have the most energy
then,” Redden says.
“I can get by on about six hours of
sleep and rarely get tired during my
show, he says. “I’ve been doing
morning radio for 10 years, and I
really enjoy it.
“Some days, I will be at work for
13 hours. After work, my wife and I
go for a walk.”
When Garrett is not spinning the
discs during “The Big Morning
Show,” he spends his time as the
program director for KTAM and
KORA.
“My job is everything you hear on
the radio,” Garrett says. “I work clo
sely with with the other DJs and pre
pare the music and news with the
help of the music director and news
director.
Garrett also does work for
KTAM-KORA outside the station.
“I DJ the Rock ’n’ Roll Oldies
Show at the Sundance club on Satur
days and a happy hour on Wednes
day afternoons for KTAM at the
L-. verybody in radio aspires to (the morning
show). This is where the listeners, the money and
everything is at. The morning show makes or breaks
a radio station. If you can keep the listeners in the
morning, you can keep them all day long.”
— Randy Davis,
KTSR-FM disc jockey
the triple W’s in his name mean, ap
proaches his show with a less humor
ous perspective.
“My goal is to entertain and in
form, Garrett says. “People like to
start a day with a positive attitude.
We give them the news, weather and
play their favorite songs:”
Garrett works the morning show
simultaneously for KTAM, an oldies
program, and KORA, a contempo
rary country music station. •
“I’m back and forth between the
stations, and it is a very action-
packed job,” he says.
“It’s often borderline chaos. I
can’t really relax because it is like
broadcasting eight hours in a four-
hour shift.”
The twin jobs allow Garrett to use
a different omair persona to fit each
radio show.
“On KORA, I play the Straight
man but on KTAM, people call in
more often, and I can be more of a
jokster,” he says. “It makes for an in
same club. <
“Sometimes I DJ at other promo
tional events for KORA such as chili
cook-offs or beach contests.”
Garrett says he doesn’t feel the
need to take a nap in between his
morning show and his other duties.
“When I first started the morning
show, I thought I would schedule
my day so that I could take an af
ternoon nap,” he says. “But a nap
gives me a headache so I don’t even
mess with it.”
Davis does admit that he doesn’t
bound out of bed as easily as he
would like to and succumbs to an oc
casional nap after work.
“Getting up at 4 a.m. is not my fa
vorite thing and it can throw off my
schedule,” he says.
“Usually morning personalities do
a lot of outside work that can take a
toll on their health.
See Morning/Page 10
ON
THE
AIR
Student enjoys DJing, making
people want to get up and dance
——— JaLJEi
Photo by Fredrick D.Joe
DJ Darren Meeks pauses during a busy night of playing hot
dance tunes and running the lights in the Parthenon dance club.
By Chuck Lovejoy
ENTERTAINMENT WRITER
The dance floor is dead.
Darren Meeks places a trans-
luscent, amber-colored record on
the turntable, and lowering the
tonearm, spins it around and
around with his fingers.
“Watch this,” he nearly
screams at me as the song, al
ready booming out of the club’s
speakers, begins to wind down
into repetitive passages that are
perfect for the transition into the
new song.
He places his hand on a slide
lever located on the DJ booth’s
mixing board and slowly moves it
to the right. CCCP’s “American-
Soviets” slowly awakens beneath
the first song and when the lever
is firmly pushed all the way to the
right, blasts its way into the air
out of the club’s speakers.
With a flick of a switch, I bathe
the dance floor with red and
white pulses of light just in time
to see a mass of individuals
dressed mostly in black swarm
from the shadows into the smoky
air under the lights.
“They really love this song,”
Meeks says, again shouting.
He is right. Where before
there was a sparsely populated
dance floor there is now an area
filled with a writhing mob.
A certain satisfaction seems to
come over both of us as the peo
ple dance wildly, obviously hav
ing a good time.
“It gives me a good feeling to
see people having fun because
they like what I play,” Meeksa
says as he takes the now-sleeping
first record off the other turnta
ble and reaches for another to
succeed “American-Soviets.”
This non-stop procession of
songs goes on for three more
hours until the last song echoes in
the air and the house lights come
on, signaling the end of the eve
ning.
What seemed to me a frantic
five and one-half hours was only
relaxed work for Meeks, a week
end DJ at Parthenon who allowed
me to help him in the booth one
Friday night.
It’s no wonder the job is easy
for the Texas A&M senior and
BANA major — he has been a
club DJ around the College Sta
tion area for the last two years,
working at Parthenon as well as at
the now-defunct clubs Rocco’s
and Geo-Metrix.
He got his start in clubs almost
by accident one night at Rocco’s
when he played music in between
the sets of a live band called the
Rain. The manager of the club
liked what Meeks played and
asked him to begin working at the
club by playing music four nights
the next week.
“I don’t know what he saw in
me,” Meeks said. “I didn’t know
what I was doing.”
But the skill came gradually, as
he practiced at home and got tips
from other DJs by asking ques
tions and simply watching them
work.
Meeks was no stranger to the
DJ life, however. For the two se
mesters preceding his start at
Rocco’s, he had been the host of a
progressive music show called
“The Dance Society” on A&M’s
student radio station, KANM.
Controlling the music at a club
See Club DJ/Page 10
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Q
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By Keith Spera
REVIEWER
It’s 3 a.m. on a recent Friday
night. Most of College Station has
bedded down for the evening. The
bars are closed, the club DJs have
packed up their equipment, and the
dorms, usually full of music, are
quiet.
Some people, however, are still
wide awake and are still playing mu
sic. They will continue to spin re
cords until 6 a.m. Besides enjoying
themselves, these people consider
their late-night activities a valuable
part of their education.
These nighthawks are the people
who work one of the toughest shifts
in a radio station’s around- the-clock
broadcast cycle — the midnight to
six a.m. weekend shift.
Those who work this grueling
shift usually are not full-time em
ployees of the station, and they
haven’t had much on-air experience.
Generally, (and especially in College
Station), they are students who want
to pursue a career in radio or some
other area of broadcasting, and are
getting some hands-on experience
while they are still in school.
Sandy Nite, who works late-night
weekend shifts at KKYS-FM, said
she enjoys her current job, even
though it’s not the most prestigious
shift, and considers it to be a good
spots let DJs prove themselves KANM’s music format
start to a radio career.
“In radio, you move up if you
prove yourself, and spend time
working at it,” she said.
Kim Dillon, a 20-year-old Texas
A&M sophomore agricultural jour
nalism major, is on the air at KORA-
FM during the midnight-to-six
weekend shift, and she calls her job
“a total blast.” She added, “It’s defi
nitely an important supplement to
my education.”
Chris Hall, 19, a part-time em
ployee of KTSR-FM, considers her
late-night weekend shifts “a good
start, which will help me get my bea
rings.” She eventually wants to go
into TV broadcasting.
The midnight to 6 a.m. weekend
slot is used by station managers to
give new, inexperienced, and up-
and-coming DJs some practice on
the air when not too many people
are listening.
“I’d never had radio experience,”
Dillon said. “My boss put me on this
shift so he could give me experience,
and everyone wouldn’t hear when I
screwed up.”
Not surprisingly, DJs who broad
cast in the wee hours of the morning
sometimes get the feeling no one at
all is listening to them.
Dillon said she definitely gets that
feeling.
“It’ll be strange,” she said. “I’ll
think no one is out there, and I’ll an
nounce some off-the-wall PSA (pub
lic service announcement), and
someone will call and want to hear
more about it. That restores my
faith.”
The people who listen at these late
hours are a varied bunch. Late-night
DJs often acquire dedicated, regular
listeners.
Byron Nelson, 31, a KTAM-AM
late-night weekender and A&M ju
nior history major, said he has a
faithful audience among conve
nience store employees who work
the same late hours as he does.
The requests phoned into radio
stations late at night can be unusual.
“I got a call from a lady who
sounded well at first,” Dillon said,
“but then she asked if I had ever
seen or talked to Jesus. Apparently
she wanted to meet him.”
Did she make a request?
“Yeah, she wanted me to dedicate
Randy Travis’s ‘Deeper Than the
Holler’ to Jesus,” said Dillon. “I
played it.”
Hall also has had her share of un
usual callers.
“There was one lady who would
call up drunk and want to hear Ber
lin’s ‘Take My Breath Away,’ ” she
said.
“She’d call up a couple of minutes
after the song was over to tell me
that she was almost asleep, and to
thank me for playing it,” she said.
The DJs who work late at night,
when there are fewer listeners and
fewer commercials, can play more
requests, and can be a little more lib
eral with the songs they choose to
play than their daytime coun
terparts. However, they must still re
main within the bounds of their sta
tion’s programming format.
Nite said she can “kinda sorta”
play what she wants.
“There are the regular songs that
we have to play,” she said. “I can
squeeze in something else every now
and then.”
Dillon said she generally plays the
same music that is played on KORA
during the day — “contemporary
country.”
Hall said her midnight-to-six shift
is different from day shifts because
no commercials air during that time,
but she still has to follow the station’s
“adult contemporary” format.
Nelson, a self-procalimed “big
fan” of classic rock, said the late-
night DJs can be a little more daring
with their programming.
“We can play a 14-minute song,
like Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Freebird,’” he
said.“That’s hard to do at in the af
ternoon,” he said. “Late at night, it’s
easier to play more music, and
longer songs.”
He also said that he can play more
upbeat songs, to help keep late-night
workers awake.
“Rush’s ‘Working Man’ fits in
See Late Night/Page 10
lets DJs expose listeners
to more than latest hits
By Stacey Babin
ENTERTAINMENT WRITER
KANM-FM, Texas A&M’s stu
dent-operated radio station, is not
like most radio stations. It does not
not have a strict format for music
programs, and all disc jockeys are
volunteers who make up their own
radio shows.
In a small room on the second
floor in the Pavilion, these unpaid
DJs take the reins of the station’s for
mat for two- or three-hour time
slots.
KANM has programs for almost
all kinds of music fans. One show
plays all Broadway tunes, while an
other features heavy metal. Other
formats include jazz, reggae and
New Age music.
Steve Noreyko, a junior chemistry
major, has been a DJ at the station
for about a year. His show, “St. Al-
phonzo’s Pancake Breakfast,” in
cludes many different kinds of
songs, but most fall in the category
of New Age, he'said.
“I got the name for my show off
of a Frank Zappa album,” Noreyko
said. “I think he’s vulgar and weird,
and I like to play some of his stuff.”
Noreyko plays mostly electronic
instrumental music. He said the mu
sic is sometimes symphonic-sound
ing and sometimes obscure.
Most people, he said, don’t know
what “New Age” actually means, and
Noreyko admits it is hard to explain.
“I play some slower, acoustical
songs and some obscure instrumen
tal rock, too,” Noreyko said.
“I have a three-hour show on
Wednesday from 9 p.m. to mid
night” he said. “I got to pick the time
slot and get to program all my mu
sic.”
Noreyko brings his records from
home because the station has a lim
ited record collection. As assistant
music director, he is in charge of
New Age and jazz music and is able
to look over records the station gets
from distributors.
Noreyko found out more about
the station at an introductory DJ
meeting. He said the DJs describe
the program they want to do, pay
$15 in dues at the beginning of each
See KANM/Page 10