Once the audio was compiled, I was primarily in charge of the online component of the project. I put together the blog, wrote the copy, produced the audiovisual slideshow and ensured everything was digitally sleek!
Now the project is complete, I enjoyed listening back to it a number of times, and listening for various different things.
Here’s a reflection I wrote:
For something that is so often condemned as the root of conflict, warfare, hatred and dislocation – it’s refreshing to hear such optimistic perspectives of religion in Believe.
Of course, this piece is not about representing broad swathe of the population. Nor is it trying to “sell” religion. We simply set out to enquire (taking a non-judgmental approach) as to why people who subscribe to various faiths choose to do so.
I found it particularly interesting that, despite the supposed conflicting ideologies and belief systems, all the interviewees were united by one common belief, one shared sense of humanity.
The idea of a “higher power” and fulfilling a “bigger purpose” was threaded in various ways throughout the piece – no matter what religion was being practiced, or however strictly.
I think we were fortunate to have such rich, meaningful and engaging content – but perhaps to our detriment in some ways. Upon reflection, I believe we relied too heavily on the content speaking for itself, and didn’t invest enough time into the editing process.
There was certainly room to build in a more layered, dynamic soundscape – perhaps juxtaposing the contrasting sounds of religion more starkly, rather than the voices of those who practice.
That being said, I really love the tribal, spiritual tones of the prayer recordings we included, as well as the authenticity that comes across in each of the interviews.
For next time, I would endeavor to communicate much the same message and tone, but in a shorter, sharper and more layered piece. Considering the topic, I think creating something highly impactful but in a shorter timeframe is possible.
I thought it might be useful to list the random collection of notes/ideas/thoughts/musings I’ve had about radio from lectures throughout the semester. There’s some surprisingly wise things in there…
How does a good idea arise? And then how do you create a good narrative/story out of it?
Sometimes you’ll need to cut your favourite part of the audio/footage. You need to keep things coming back to the story. Only include media that fits to the arc of the story. You need to keep your eye on: What is the aim here? Leave space for your audience and your interviewee to breathe a little bit.
When it comes to sound effects, it’s important to render the physical objects into the aura.
Silences in audio create depth and space. They also create tension.
Double J was kind of like Community Radio before community radio existed.
Central programming works best, because the bulk of people want regularity – for the station to control the music, not the announcers.
Fun fact: Station promotions don’t come into the calculation of “prescribed advertising hours/limits” – on television or radio.
Sponsorship stuff has been an issue for Community Radio for a long time
Often, it’s balanced on Triple R because the paid information sounds editorial, not advertorial.
When focusing on presenting, think about what you like to hear on the radio from other presenters.
You start copying someone you like… Then you find your own voice.
The presenter sets the style and tone, and also establishes the credibility of the show, the content and the station. When you are on air, you are the station.
Make sure you run through your script out loud until your comfortable with it. Use your script as a performance based tool.
Phoneticise difficult names. Phoneticise the word phoneticise,
Make sure you’ve got something to say. Speak clearly. Short words, short sentences. Be clear about what the writing is trying to achieve.
Try to take away assumptions when you’re listening to something for the first time.
Having missed the first couple of weeks of Semester 2, I found myself in a bit of frenzy trying to figure out what I’d do for my Audio Arts Project and who I’d team up with.
Fortunately, I overheard Jess (Lukjanow) talking about some of the themes and ideas that her and her partner Jessie were considering, and I quickly offered up myself as an enthusiastic third member! A few days later, the three of us met at Pearson & Murphy’s to brainstorm further and start conceptualising the piece.
I really enjoyed these initial stages of creative planning and gestating ideas. When we finally agreed on the topic of religion, we explored it in a broad theoretical sense, but also on a personal level of how we related to it and what our experience of it was.
From here, we documented a list of religions/faiths that interested or intrigued us, and then each set about tracking down talent.
– Hillsong Church – Polish Catholic – Jehovas Witness – Buddhism – Christianity – Islam
– Hinduism
In looking back on my notes, it’s interesting to see how we started with the idea, without having a clear picture of how it might look at the final stage.
How does being a part of this religion make you feel?
Why this belief system? Why this faith?
Is there a single common thread amongst all religions?
We managed to compile audio of eight different interviews across six different faiths, which was more than we anticipated.
Having the opportunity to produce, present and panel-operate Triple R’s flagship student program, Room With A View, was without a doubt the highlight of my experience in Radio 1 and 2 this year.
I was fortunate enough to a part of a really fantastic and dynamic team in first Semester, which was then reconfigured into two separate teams for Radio 2. Sam, Sian, Jess and I joined forces to deliver two episodes of RWAV, once in September and again in October.
The first show was a learning curve, and we quickly figured out a lot more preparation (especially of the interviews) was required. I felt really pleased with my first ever panel operating experience, and was grateful to have had Jess (an experienced SYN panel-op) keep my panic levels at bay! I surprised myself by how much I actually enjoyed the experience once I got into the swing of things. As always, the episode flew by, but I think we gave it a red hot crack for our first time working together as a team.
The second (and final!) RWAV episode was a huge step up, and I think we delivered one of the best episodes of the year. The presenters (Sian and myself) were well prepared and thoroughly researched, and felt comfortable and lively behind the mic. Producer Sam pulled together a diverse mix of content (including a Radio Play feature), and Jess operated the panels with ease.
In chatting to Elizabeth after our final show, we all realised what an absolute privilege it has been to work on this program. Room With A View… It’s been real.
I think one of the best parts of the Triple R experience was having the opportunity to try our hand at each different role. It provided a much more holistic approach to how radio works, and gave me a thorough understanding of what each role entails.
For me, I think I felt most natural in the presenting role, and it’s probably the one I enjoyed the most for that reason. I learnt that it’s so much more than the hour you’re on air. Rather, it’s the preparation and research you do prior to the show that really counts. I really enjoyed researching the subjects and interviewees beforehand, and then crafting interesting and engaging questions for Room With A View.
I was surprised by how much I loved panel operating on the September 8 episode. It was definitely the role I was most apprehensive about, but probably the role I executed best! I’ve certainly got a perfectionist streak and found it really nerve-racking to do something I was so unfamiliar with. Once I got my head around the panels and computer, it all clicked into place relatively quickly, and I started to get quite a nice rhythm/routine going.
I found producing to be the most work, but still really enjoyed the role nonetheless. It was cool to have a kind of broad, creative control of the show’s direction and the structure, and I spent my time focusing on pulling together one cohesive product. I use this term loosely, but I also enjoyed the “talent management” component of the role – whereby I interacted with all the guests, made sure everyone was feeling comfortable, and helped the presenters to sound the best they could.
Having worked on this alternating system, I think it will be tricky to stick to just one role in a professional environment… I want a rotating roster of jobs in real life!
Whilst American satellite network HBO is arguably the mecca of quality TV and subsequent complex narratives, it’s certainly not the only cable television company to be producing critically acclaimed programming.
Take at look at the achievements of Mad Men for example – a seven-season American period drama that has seen unprecedented success since its premiere in 2007.
The cast of Mad Men, Season One
Source: nypost.com
The script for Mad Men was picked up by AMC – a basic cable channel in the US – after seven unsuccessful years of being turned away by other high-profile networks. The channel, which primarily broadcasts movies, had next to no track record of original programming.
Despite this, Mad Men was given the green light, and AMC launched what has become one of the most prolific periodical dramas of our time.
Whilst being careful not to take away from the significance of influencers such network identity and brand – that HBO, for example, utilises so well – Mad Men is demonstrative of the idea that consumers are above all, seeking quality TV.
First and foremost, Mad Men efficaciously re-imagines the 1960s for 21st century viewers, in an elaborate (yet not ostentatious) stylistic periodisation.
Don Draper (John Hamm) and Roger Sterling (John Slattery) in a typical show setting Source: designmuse.wordpress.com
It offers somewhat of an intervention into popular culture’s ‘myth-making’ of history and imagery of this period – a time of profound change, particularly when it comes to gender, race and civil rights movements, as well as consumerism and the ascendancy of the advertising industry (which drives much of the plot).
What Mad Men is able to do that most television programs cannot is raise serious ideological questions and ideas in both the context of the show itself and the current society in which viewers consume it.
It’s a case of art impersonating life, whereby Mad Men does nothing more than hold up a mirror to the upper-echelons of New York’s elite 1960s advertising world.
What’s fascinating about the show is how it provokes viewers to critically question the ideologies – political, moral, social and ethical – being presented to them from five decades ago, and consequently reflect on how these contrast (or parallel) their experiences of society today.
According to Jason Mittel (2012), “when we witness the casual sexism and racism – as well as nearly every other form of discrimination that boils down to the main characters’ default suspicion of anyone unlike themselves – we regard the characters as dinosaurs unaware of the coming ice age. In the first season, we watch Sterling Cooper make assumptions about Nixon’s victory knowing how deluded they are about both the politician and America’s future. There is an interesting dynamic inherent in watching characters who experience themselves as modern, but, inevitably, feel dated to us – from our privileged perch in the 21st century, the characters of Sterling Cooper will be forced to adapt or come extinct.”
Interestingly, it leads us to question whether Mad Men “ideologically reassures us that the struggles of the time have led America to a more equitable present”, or alternatively, question whether this “celebratory construction of the past” actually makes us feel uneasy (Morris 2014, p. 8).
Either way, we are provided with rich, layered and complex ideas that, alongside so many of the show’s other elements, cement Mad Men as notable quality TV.
In my last blog post – It’s not TV, it’s HBO – I largely focused on HBO’s use of quality TV as a brand differentiation strategy against not only other networks, but also against the traditional idea and understanding of genre as a whole.
This week, I’m eager to explore in more depth some of the dimensions that make up the conception of quality TV, and that inform the subsequent discourse.
One of the key game changers of post-broadcast TV is the constantly shifting relationship between television and narrative, and how TV as a medium is able to tell stories.
This relationship is of particular importance when it comes to the construction of quality TV, given that for the most part, this variety of programming is concerned with building immersive story worlds.
Often, they’re afforded large budgets, have the credibility and expertise to represent difficult subjects, have access to paratexts (e.g. DVD special features), and the freedom to experiment with extended modes of audience engagement (e.g. transmedia production).
Quality TV plays with the conventional ideas of television narrative, and has successfully reinvented the way stories are presented to us on the small screen.
There’s an increasing tendency for quality TV to be character-centered, as well as a propensity for significantly slower plot development (especially when comparing it to conventional episodic television).
According to Jason Mittel (2012), this narrative complexity “redefines episodic forms under the influence of serial narration – not necessarily a complete merger of episodic and serial forms, but a shifting balance. Rejecting the need for plot closure within every episode that typifies conventional episodic form, narrative complexity foregrounds ongoing stories across a range of genres… Complex television employs a range of serial techniques, with the underlying assumption that a series is a cumulative narrative that builds over time, rather than resetting back to a steady-state equilibrium at the end of every episode.”
This idea is superbly executed in HBO’s critically acclaimed 2014 crime drama series, True Detective.
As Mittel (2012) states, “a new paradigm of television storytelling has emerged over the past two decades, redefining the boundary between episodic and serial forms, with a heightened degree in storytelling mechanics, and demanding intensified viewer engagement focused on both diegetic pleasures and formal awareness”.
True Detective neatly slots into this storytelling paradigm by drawing on the generic conventions of the ‘police procedural’, and yet still reformulating the series (more broadly) as a complex narrative.
As a television show, it’s an intensely immersive experience, and takes quite some time (if not the whole series) to really understand the intricate and endless plot divisions.
As with so many crime dramas, the show’s narrative takes us well beyond what’s been done to solve the crime. True Detective is just as much about the “deep-south” Louisiana society in which it’s set, and the institutional ideologies that exist there. The show creates a rich portrait of both leading protagonists, Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) and Marty Hart (Woody Harrelson), and episodes generally lack any sense of resolution.
Perhaps most fascinating (and equally frustrating) is the way in which True Detective deals with time and temporality.
According to Guy Rundle (2014), “Time flows in True Detective, but more like the intersecting runnels of a bayou than as a river, crisscrossing, expansive and formless. Multi-stream TV series have hitherto used different stocks and filters to separate past and present. There is none of that here, and the absence of external markers of different eras means that the story happens both in time and all at once – made more complex by the fact that the series repays multiple viewings of each episode”.
As a viewer, it can at times be befuddling to keep up with not only the show’s key narrative, but also the many sub-plots that exist. However, once you submit to the complexities of the show, there can indeed be great delight in figuring out the intricacies yourself.
The concept of genre has always been critical to the way we consume literature and film. It provides us with a systematic approach to quickly and effectively discern what content might be of interest to us, and to easily dismiss the ‘type’ of art we perceive, more broadly, to be less engaging.
Thanks to the extensive categorization of programming that the post-broadcast era affords, we’re now able to apply this same method to our consumption of television. However, the implications of genre in this medium are arguably much greater.
According to Morris (2014), genres work as “cultural categories” within “nearly every facet of television – corporate organisations, policy decisions, critical discourses, audience practices, production techniques, textual aesthetics and historical trends”.
And, not unlike in literature and film, they’re “cultural products constituted by media practices and subject to ongoing change and redefinition”.
Despite the pervasive nature of genre classification across all television programming, consumers are no longer digesting content simply on the basis of key television categories.
Rather, the concept of genre has been widened to incorporate how the traditional ‘genre’ of a program intersects with other important “categorical axes such as network identity/brand and target audience/taste culture” (Morris 2014, p.6).
This idea has been typified by popular US satellite television network HBO – the longest continuously operating pay television service in the US. The cable channel, which has at times been referred to in popular culture as its “very own genre”, is the home of countless high profile, critically acclaimed television series, particularly within the last decade.
The silver HBO logo and introductory branding (that prefaces each episode of every program) has become universally iconic and powerfully ubiquitous with distinguished programming.
Of course, HBO still produces a wide calibre of television series and is by no means restricted by programming genre – it offers an extensive range of comedies, dramas, thrillers, mockumentaries etc
So how then, when taking into consideration the traditional mechanisms of genre and how we consume TV, does HBO successfully appeal to such broad swathe of the population? And why are people looking beyond traditional genre categorization and instead selecting programs based on what network produced them?
To clarify from the outset, “The term quality is tossed around with great frequency but little regard for its disparate meanings among the popular press and interest groups on the one hand and among television industry scholars on the other” (Morris 2014, p.8).
When referring to programs as “quality TV”, we’re relying on the discourse of concepts like narrative form, audience cohorts and taste cultures, industrial and technological changes, and national policy and regulation of content.
A fantastic example of quality TV in recent times is HBO’s critically acclaimed (albeit controversial) series Girls.
The popular comedy-drama, which premiered on HBO in 2012, has successfully broadcast three acclaimed seasons to date, with a fourth on its way.
The series follows four female friends navigating their twenties through New York City – whose everyday adventures lead to an assortment of unexpected humiliations, outlandish disasters and occasional triumphs.
The cast of Girls: Marnie (Allison Williams), Jessa (Jemima Kirke), Hannah (Lena Dunham), Shoshanna (Zosia Mammet) Source: maisonneuve.org
Despite the seemingly well-trod premise, Girls revolutionizes the content and they way it is being brought to us by offering a gritty, uncomfortable and more realistic representation of Generation Y.
It lends itself to the relatively new ‘indie’ genre style, in which audiences become privy to the meaningless and sometimes awkward moments of the characters’ lives. The camera doesn’t shy away from what it previously has, and the characters are presented with a genuine complexity and humanity.
Girls’ characters Jessa and Marnie Source: www.nsmbl.com
Most importantly, the people we see on screen are deeply flawed, just as we all are. They’re deliberately less aspirational and therefore more relatable – a key ingredient to the making of any quality television.
References
Morris, B 2014, It’s Not TV, it’s HBO: Branding, genre and the idea of ‘quality TV’, lecture, viewed October 12 2014, <http://bit.ly/1t3OraN>
As a final year Journalism/Media student at RMIT, I’ve had the privilege of putting my passion for broadcast media into action this year – by producing, panel operating and presenting Triple R’s long-running student program, Room With A View.
Having the opportunity to broadcast on Melbourne’s largest (not to mention pre-eminent) community station has been a fantastic introduction to the world of radio, and an experience I have not only immensely enjoyed, but also learnt a great deal from.
Growing up in my family and listening to the radio on the way to school largely meant a combination of blaring commercial breakfast shows, and a constant flickering of stations to avoid the endlessly mind-numbing advertisements. If Dad wasn’t taking us back to the 80s with Gold 104.3, Mum was quickly putting an end to such “commercial rubbish” and turning the dial over to the public broadcasting sector – where ABC Classic FM and Radio National softly moved through our airwaves. I so clearly remember radio reflecting the angst of my teenage hood – sheer embarrassment when my friends got into the car and Dad was playing Gold 104.3 (“Eugh, he is SO old and daggy!” I used to think), and total and utter boredom when Mum chose the ABC for car trips any longer than 5 minutes (“Why are these people so old and why do they all sound the same?!”).
Radio is so unique in it’s ability to create a real intimacy between the broadcaster and the listener, and if anything, Triple R has taught me to really value and respect this relationship. For me as a kid, the best radio was about the least ads and the most music. I suppose there’s still some truth to this, but what I’ve learnt is how to facilitate an engaging, relevant and professional broadcast, that creates a positive and loyal relationship between myself and the listener. It’s about treating your audience with respect, and meeting them at a mutual point of intellect – without necessarily inferring any assumed knowledge. Unlike what we hear in commercial radio, I’ve come to really understand a broadcaster’s role in the exchange of information. We’re essentially there to connect listeners to the music, the content, the interviewees and the station more broadly, not to impart our own opinions or ideas. Of course, this is not true for all broadcasters or stations, but it’s a fantastic reminder to reflect on what the audience is really tuning in for.
I really believe that Triple R is producing some of the most excellent, thought-provoking and unique content in Melbourne. If only my 11 year old self knew what community radio was.
In many ways, Peter Cooke is telling us nothing that we don’t already know. In his 4000-word feature, The People Versus The Political Class, Cooke expresses the exact sentiments shared by the vast majority Australians about the current state of our political climate: dishonest, disingenuous and ultimately, disillusioning.
Where Cooke does succeed is going beyond the “blame game” political slander we’ve seen in recent months to a deeper analysis of the democratic process. He provides well-researched and thoroughly-informed commentary on the seemingly grave disparity between public opinion and government policy. His tone, while impassioned, is reasoned, and Cooke’s arguments show a sophistication to match the complexity of the issue.
Unlike many critics, Cooke does not fall into the trap of condemning a single group of people or faction of politics. He highlights the egoistic and duplicitous nature of politicians, the often covetous motivations of big businesses and lobbyists, and even the self-contradictory dissonance amongst the Australian public. What’s more, he goes on to scrutinize and critically question the role of democracy in Australian politics, and the inherently flawed processes that manifest themselves at a systemic level.
While Cooke’s disaffection resonates strongly with readers, he appears to distance himself from belonging to that same category of “ordinary Australians”. He rarely capitalizes on the emotive power of inclusive language, instead preferring to speak objectively about “what Australians want” and what “senior citizens are saying”. While such impartiality perhaps affords him added credibility, it creates somewhat of a distance between himself and the reader.
So much so, the article’s subheading – “the distance between us and our rulers is getting bigger” – appears to take on a paradoxical twist. This so-called gap between the general public and the “political class” ironically plays out between Cooke and his readers in the same way. It could be argued that those in a similar position to Cooke – well informed, highly educated and politically engaged – echo the advantage of the “economic elite” that he refers to, albeit in a slightly different way. Cooke’s own political jargon and magniloquent vocabulary (e.g. “oligarchies” and “vestigial deference”) alienate ordinary Australians from the complexities of this issue even further. Not surprisingly, it’s Cooke’s colloquial idioms (e.g. “it’s all bullshit”) and punchy, staccato sentences (e.g. “Stew on that for a moment.”) that undoubtedly have the most cut through.
While this feature article is a long and at times verbose exposé, it provides a well-structured and coherent response to what has become a messy and confused public discourse. Cooke offers a strangely refreshing perspective on the topic, by challenging the idea that “Australian politics is somehow the people’s fault”, and instead highlighting the “derision most politicians have for us”. What could easily reverberate as a sense of bleakness and futility is instead averted through a sense of hope in the closing paragraph, whereby Cooke notes the “robustly democratic” nature of smaller, independent parties. As a reader, I am left somewhat dumbfounded at the seemingly incredulous political climate, yet still hopeful at what change could come about. Cooke was able to sustain my interest, but whether an atypical Monthly reader would persist is another question.
OLIVIA WILLIS 