When construction began on the houses in the new estate around the corner a few years ago, there was always one voice raised in anger on the building sites.

Subscribe now for unlimited access.

Login or signup to continue reading

It wasn't a tradie or long-suffering apprentice; it was the presenter on the commercial radio station, bellowing about the issue of the day and berating those rang or texted in to disagree.

Over the years, things appear to have changed. These days when I walk past the remaining building sites, I'm more likely to hear music. Not the solid block of classic rock beloved by regional radio but hip-hop or rap, sometimes even high-energy dance music - streamed not broadcast. Once, late in the morning, above all the hammering and sawing, the mellifluous voice of Richard Fiedler oozed out of a speaker as he interviewed a guest on The Conversation Hour.

I've noticed the change in the city too. It wasn't that long ago that a morning cab ride exposed you to an embittered driver muttering in furious agreement to whatever Alan Jones, Ray Hadley or John Laws were banging on about. Nothing like a dose of rage to get you pumped for the day ahead.

These days, you're more likely to encounter a polite young South Asian, probably paying their way through uni, who turns down the Bollywood soundtrack as you get in.

I've been thinking about radio a lot since the death of James Valentine last week. On the rare occasions I did catch him in the afternoons when driving, I enjoyed his soft antidote to the rest of the day's hard news and sharp commentary. And I marvelled at his ability to turn life's minutiae - fluffy towels versus scratchy ones, for example - into an entertaining discussion with his audience.

Contrast this to the one and only time I endured a taste of the Kyle and Jackie O show in a cab not driven by a South Asian. Too polite to ask for it to be turned off, I suffered 15 minutes of idiotic aural torture from which I'm still recovering half a decade later.

Each to their........

© Canberra Times