3ZM’s early morning party is no act

Press, 13 March 1986, Page 19

3ZM’s early morning party is no act

Curiousity to find out about the people behind the voices on the radio, and how they put together the shows thousands of us hear each morning, prompted broadcasting reporter MARGARET BAKER to get up earlier than she ever has before, and take a look inside radio studios around Christchurch. In the first of a three-part series she tries to make some sense of 3ZM’s inimitable “moron team.”

Goat noises can be heard through the glass window (in the midst of the 7 a.m. news), both morning team members are trying not to laugh, almost tripping over their, close-to-the-edge teasing, switching quickly to a commercial break and cursing the Post Office for 'total inadequacy as the phones jam.

The James Daniels and Ken Ellis 3ZM breakfast team is something that about 83,000 Christchurch people have with their Kornies each morning. The studio snaps and crackles with quick responses and sharp remarks. Ellis disappears upstairs to prepare the next news broadcast and Daniels rushes out of the studio to find a particular song — appearing just in time as the tape on air finishes and he launches into the buried treasure competition. (And yes, the third item was Treasures nappies.) The whole show is very much just as it happens; there is no rigid script, only a series of competitions, songs, news items and daily audience participation items such as the Party Line, that must be got through. The order of it all is up to Ellis and Daniels, and depends on what else they may have up their sleeves for the morning.

“On a good day it’s just like being at a party,” says Daniels. “To sound as though you’re having fun you have to be having a good time — you can’t fake it.”

They say that what the public hears on the radio is indeed the real James and Ken (when they’re in a good mood). There is no

“act” as such; the personalities and the ad-libbing are true to the person. “What you hear is very definitely me and Ken, there is no act involved, it just wouldn’t work — I’m a shocking actor anyway,” says Daniels.

Their on-air relationship is also no different from the way they relate to each other in everyday life.

"We broadcast our normal relationship. Of course there are moments when we argue and don’t agree with each other, but that happens in any friendship — and we’re very good friends,” says Daniels.

Watching them at work, their rapport is obvious. Their “team coach,” Gillian Shirley, says they “clicked” right from their first programme in May, 1984.

“Teams very rarely work, but these two had no trouble right from the start,” she says. Their cues to each other come mostly from eye contact. They are constantly watching each other, gauging where the conversation is going, responding at the right moment or butting in with a quiet pun.

Spontaneity

"Everything is generally spontaneous, so only

one of us knows where we’re going, and the other has to flounder around and catch on,” says Daniels.

It’s the spontaneous parts of the show that both like best. “The nicest bits are the bits that haven’t been planned — like deciding on the spot to ring someone up, or when someone ringing in comes up with something we’re interested in, or something funny happens in the conversation,” says Ellis. “The contact we have with the people ringing in is great, we try to use the audience as much as possible, so in the end they are really entertaining themselves.”

They say the competitions are more for entertainment purposes than for money. They get people on the air, taking part in the programme.

“We’re a smaller station than ZB, with a smaller budget. We emphasise the entertainment side.”

They expect to be given a hard time by their callers, as they themselves can be almost merciless in their teasing of such "institutions” as Merivale.

“People really give us heaps, but if we dish it out we have to be prepared to take it back,” says Daniels. Ellis comments that

many people have a “prissy” attitude to what can go on air, and thinks that all things that concern people should be able to be discussed. "For instance, sex is a part of everyone’s life so why deny the fact,” he says. “Basically, we wouldn’t say anything on air that we wouldn’t say to a friend, and at 7.30 a.m. we wouldn’t say some of the things we do at 6 a.m.

“We’re lucky in that in a way we’ve written our own rules. We don’t say anything to shock, but we take very little seriously, knowing we have no safety net.” Much of the success of their show seems to be due to the way their different personalities complement each other. Daniels, in his tracksuit top and pants, sticks his chewing gum to the side of the control panel, flicks through the paper in search of something topical or funny, and lets Ellis berate him for not knowing the meaning of iconoclastic. He then stares into space, trying to think of what to say after the next commercial, puts on his headphones and says “here we go, here we go” to Ellis. Ellis, in casual shirt, trousers, and white sneakers, reads the news in an easy, informal manner, makes quiet remarks about various people as clips of someone speaking are played, and responds to Daniels’ remarks about his greying hair with indignation.

They work on the same wavelength and pick up on each other’s humour (mostly tongue-in-cheek), but they react to comments and ideas in different ways, balancing the programme and giving each other something to feed on. Daniels remarks that they live on different sides of Colombo Street In the studio, both wave their hands about smile, laugh and pull faces as they talk, as if in the middle of a face to face conversation.

“It’s a very artificial environment” says Daniels. “You have to imagine all the households waking up around Christchurch and all the people driving down Bealey Avenue.” Competitions and promotions are scrawled all over the back of the door. Ellis seems to be constantly going up and down the stairs to compile the news, but on the radio it sounds as if he has been sitting there all the time.

Daniels sits at the main control panel, Ellis to the side, both can see Gillian Shirley through the glass. Messages are constantly passed between the three. Gillian takes the calls and tapes pieces of paper with the caller’s name on to the glass.

Muck ups

“The way we do things means we can sometimes muck it up a bit, but we cover it up with humour,” says Daniels.

“At first it took me a while to come to terms with being a little more messy than I had been on other shows. I used to pride myself on my show being very slick, I almost had to detune myself.” Before joining the breakfast team, Daniels worked for Radio New Zealand in Timaru and Blenheim, and Ellis worked in New Plymouth and Timaru. Ellis also

worked for 3ZM when it was a “beautiful music” station in the seventies, for 3ZB, and for Radio Avon as a programme director. He returned to 3ZM in 1979.

“I really enjoy what I do, I get a real buzz from the audience, and on a good day you feel you can scale any heights,” says Daniels.

On a bad day, says Ellis, it doesn’t take much to bring the stress to the surface.

“You know when things aren’t going right. Even if the phones jam you at least know you’re doing something well.” A postmortem on each show is held every morning.

The hours of the show, 6 a.m. to 9 a.m., mean getting up at about 4 a.m. (sleeping during staff meetings), and generally adjusting body rhythms. Ellis says he has got used to it, but Daniels says he falls asleep in the afternoons — and can sleep anywhere. “By Friday afternoon Gillian and I are absolutely shattered,” he says. “And Ken is disgustingly ready to go.” Daniels likens being on air on a good day to be intoxicated, and coming out afterwards with a hangover.

The busiest time of their day is from about 6.45 a.m. to 8 a.m. The latest audience survey showed they were listened to by 83,000 people, mostly in the 15 to 40 age group. During their 60 minute challenge spot on Wednesdays, the audience numbers climb.

The only other Christchurch station to top the 83,000 mark is 3ZB, which attracts 85,000 to its breakfast show.

The music they play is according to audience research, and what fits the mood of the show at the time.

“Some people constantly rubbish our music, but we’re playing what people have asked for, and it’s a public radio station which the people pay for — to play anything else would just be arrogant,” says Ellis.

Their news items are short. “It’s very easy to depress people, if they want more details they can listen to the National Programme.”

Both enjoy what they do, and intend to keep the

“moron team” going for some time. “Breakfast is the best time to be up and at it No other type of radio work is so enjoyable," says Daniels. “All care and no responsibility.”