MFR shock decision: Is this the death of local radio?
Where were you when you heard that local radio had died? I was in a café just off the A9. I’d stopped for coffee and was scrolling through my phone. Jodie McCluskey, the last local broadcaster on MFR, will be hanging up her headphones at the end of December.
I’m rarely lost for words. But the best I can come up with for how I feel about this, is sad. Sad that a radio station that I have loved, first as a listener, then as a presenter, and again as a listener, is no longer local.
And, on behalf of listeners, businesses, and communities across Highland, Moray and Aberdeenshire, I feel deeply betrayed by Bauer Media, its multi-billionaire private owners.
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Do they care about our communities? Our causes? Do they care about local voices representing local people, or local institutions and politicians being held to account by local journalists? Do they care that local champions should be celebrated, or that local good causes should feel supported? I doubt very much they could even point to the MFR patch on a map.
My MFR story started when we moved to the Highlands in 1997. I knew little about our new area, so it was a no-brainer to turn to local media. I devoured issues of The Inverness Courier, and tuned the radio dial to 97.4FM.
That was when I started having one-sided conversations with Tich McCooey at Breakfast, Ray Atkinson from 10-2, and Ken Kelman from 2-6.
This unlikely trio were my first Highland friends. Don’t judge me, but I knew hardly anyone here, and my baby (she’ll be 29 next week) couldn’t talk yet.
I couldn’t have imagined that within a couple of years I’d be co-hosting the MFR Breakfast Show. But that’s a story for another day.
My 13 years on MFR Breakfast - first with Tich, then with Gary, latterly with Ginno - were among the best of my working life.
From before 6am till after midnight, seven days a week, the studios were a hive of energy, creativity, passion, and laughter. Every show brought a stream of guests into the studio; charities and business leaders, MPs and local heroes, to entire classes of kids singing carols, or the cast of Eden Court shows.
Barely a day went by without one of us out in the radio car, visiting communities, broadcasting live from the site of news incidents or celebrations, or being winched aboard a passing warship.
We knew our listeners and our ‘patch’ and they knew us. And none of us could quite believe we got to have this much fun in the name of work. Or that we kept winning national awards.
I started just as MFR was being sold by its volunteer founders to Scottish Radio Holdings. That sale ruffled feathers, but not as many as when SRH sold us to Emap, and certainly not as many as when Emap sold us to Bauer.
With each sale, the centre of control moved further from Inverness, further from people who understood what was special about our part of the world.
Out went the guests and the chats with listeners, and the freedom to play the music our listeners liked. In came the money-making text competitions.
Resources were cut. News bulletins were cut too, and ad breaks lengthened. Less time for chat. Less time for personality. Less time for local. Less fun.
The final nail in the coffin for me was sitting through a remote presentation from a brand manager in London, being told ‘Local doesn’t have anything to do with geography’. I handed in my notice. I was barely allowed to say goodbye on air.
I get it. The media landscape has changed enormously. We now have an endless choice of digital stations, podcasts, and music streaming services. Where once the listener had half a dozen options, MFR is now just one of 100 choices across the day.
Which is why it needed to remain distinct, and relevant. And what’s more relevant to a local community than local voices, local issues, and local news?
