As superfluous exercises go, it made bringing coal to Newcastle seem like a relief mission bearing much-needed supplies. But there it was: Dave Fanning (2FM, Monday-Thursday, Saturday) getting lessons on how to speak in public. If there was one person who didn't need tips on verbal skills from Mark Forsyth, author of The Elements of Eloquence, it was surely Fanning.
But it was, paradoxically enough, a fitting item for his Saturday morning show. While his weeknight programmes are music-based, featuring a pleasing if hardly radical mix of contemporary indie and vintage rock with the odd bit of reggae and soul, Fanning’s weekend slot revolves around voices, particularly his own, which uncharitable listeners might conclude he is in love with. Whether he was reviewing the papers, interviewing guests or introducing songs, the presenter never seemed to stop talking, shoehorning facts and opinions into every sentence and sub-clause, and speaking at such speed he threatened to produce a sonic boom. His guests, on the other hand, sometimes struggled to get a word in edgeways. (It’s not as though Fanning is unaware of this. Some years ago, he appeared in a Telecom Éireann ad that traded on his inability to stop yakking.)
So while Forsyth revealed how the most famous phrases in history are rooted in the basic tenets of rhetoric, he made no apparent impact on his host, for whom the carefully considered remark is an alien concept. When Forsyth said that early Shakespeare plays had few memorable lines, Fanning interjected animatedly. "Oh, I'd love to quote one to shut you up," he said. "But I can't." When talk then turned to l'esprit de l'escalier, aka staircase wit, or the concept of thinking of a witty retort too late, Fanning displayed some self-awareness. "The story of my life," he said ruefully.
Later, as he spoke to Bob Stanley, musician and author of a new history of pop, Fanning's tendency to show off his knowledge by frontloading questions with reams of detail rendered his guest's presence redundant at times. Asking why the charts seemed less important today, he launched into a stream-of- consciousness monologue about bygone catchphrases from Top of the Pops and the decline of vinyl sales, effectively answering his own query. "You've got it there," responded a bewildered-sounding Stanley.
Yet Fanning also made for an amiably beguiling presence. Despite his verbal incontinence, his spiel is laced with enough sly observation and wry self-deprecation to keep the listener engaged. More importantly, there is no doubting his enduringly fervent interest in his chosen fields. His interview with Stanley at times resembled an encounter between two like-minded music fanatics, as the conversation spun on to esoteric figures such as pioneering British pop producer Joe Meek. This spirit pervaded the show, whether the topic was The Wizard of Oz or One Direction. Underneath the torrent of talk, Fanning's weekend show is a perceptive and entertaining forum for all things pop cultural, as welcome as it is verbose.
Loudly expressed opinions are the main currency of The FM104 Phone Show With Chris Barry (FM104, Monday-Friday); it's just a pity that the views aired are often so debased. The long-running late-night slot has seen former presenters Adrian Kennedy and Jeremy Dixon defecting to rival Dublin station 98FM, allowing Barry to return as host of the show he originally fronted in the 1990s. But the essential formula remains the same: pick a contentious topic, lob the bait into the pool of permanently outraged listeners poised by their phones, then sit back and enjoy the feeding frenzy.
Monday night’s show was an object lesson in gratuitously generated controversy. Barry asked for his audience’s thoughts on a letter sent to Muslim schools in Dublin threatening violence against pupils and their parents, with unsurprisingly dispiriting results.
The first caller was Pádraig, who had issues with immigration from non-EU countries, but had no time for the “loonies” who threatened violence, preferring the far more reasonable solution of “mass deportations”. Like most late-night hosts who stir up hornets’ nests for a living, Barry pitched himself as an honest broker, with some limits about what was acceptable. But in giving a platform for views that were not merely unpalatable but also uninformed and inflammatory, his show shamelessly played to our worst instincts.
radioreview@irishtimes.com
