Bill McKibben was instrumental in Transom’s founding. His Sidebar commemorates our tenth anniversary, which we’re celebrating this week.
I knew nothing about radio except the fact that it was to me the most magical of the electronic mediums precisely because you weren’t limited to things you could take a picture of. I had no interest in TV, the great repetition machine, and I lived far enough out in the wilderness that during daylight hours I only got one radio station. Happily, it was a great one: North Country Public Radio, run by the irreplaceable Ellen Rocco. And so my hours were filled with Ira Glass and Jay Allison and the few other Old Masters of this particular genre.
But—greedily—I wanted more, and slightly less greedily I assumed there must be more out there, or at least artists who wanted to make more. The original kernel of the idea that became Transom was a contest—a monthly prize for the best piece of this new, somewhat undefined, kind of radio sound. It wasn’t much of a kernel; happily, I managed to track down Jay, who turned it into something far better, and I managed to track down enough money to let it run for a year. And ever since then, preoccupied with saving the world in different ways (see 350.org) I’ve done not a damned thing, except sit back and listen.
I try to listen critically—occasionally I even try to write a little about this stuff. But what always amazes me, every time I come to Transom or every time I flick through my long list of podcast downloads or surf my radio app or hear the work flowing from Transom’s progeny the Public Radio Exchange, is simply what an astonishing amount of great work there is—a cascade, an avalanche, a Metaphor Implying Torrent. I know that the business model for it all is impossible, I know that an immense amount of good stuff never gets heard by as many people as it should, I know that program directors at public radio stations across the country have somehow been hypnotized into thinking Car Talk represents ground-breaking radio.
But probably it was ever thus in great art scenes—there must have been hundreds of great abstract impressionists painting in relative obscurity, but feeling and feeding the energy of that moment. For those of you engaged in this enterprise, just know that there are some of us out there making dinner, listening in, and dropping our jaws. This I believe: we’re in the golden age of radio.
Amen to that.
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