chrismoyles.net
- Tue Jan 06, 2004 1:23 pm
#240899
From The Times.
Chris Moyles Review - By Chris Campling
Narcissus has nothing on Chris Moyles on his breakfast show
The first words of the first day of the rest of Chris Moyles's broadcasting life were about him, not by him. An extended jingle ran through the pantheon of Radio Fab DJs from Blackburn through Edmonds, Smashy and Nicey to Cox (which was rhymed with back in her box, which seems a bit harsh after she’s been so nice about him). It also described Moyles, inter alia, as the saviour of radio/ Until they fire his a***, thus establishing the air of defensive aggression that was to last through the next three hours.
But then that's Moyles all over, isn't it — a playground bully with a wicked tongue, bless him. And a well-developed sense of irony — the first song he played was the Move's Flowers in the Rain, just as it was back in 1967, when Tony Blackburn got Radio 1 going. It was a nice little nod to history which must have gone whizzzz over the heads of most of his audience.
He must have been nervous because he did say some strange things: It’s safe to listen to Radio 1 in the mornings, he trumpeted, and the ghost of Chris Evans wept. Still, it would have pleased the Radio 1 panjandrums. And it was certainly safe if you wanted to hear songs loosely devoted to the theme of Moyles. Thus we got U2's It's a Beautiful Day and Pink's God is a DJ (although Moyles said he didn't schedule it. As if).
Desperately casting around for more means with which to save broadcasting, Moyles swiftly went native, pointing out how early he and the other members of his team had got up (there seemed to be six, including Comedy Dave, an oxymoron if ever I’ve heard one). Later on he pointed to his 3.30am alarm call again. I'm sorry, but did he not consider this when he was bashing on the door saying: Let me do the Breakfast Show, I'm much better than Coxy — or at any rate less hungover.
And, yes, it does appear that Moyles is completely sober and fully rested. In fact, he probably made sure of getting his full ten hours the previous night, even if it meant going to bed at the same time as Keith Richards gets up. He was the class swot, in other words, getting his head down the night before a big exam.
Moyles is the great pretender, presenting himself as outrageous and off the wall, but, at heart, so conventional. One of the games he brought with him is called Buzz Off, in which he plays a song from his collection and, after receiving 2,000 text votes asking to take it off, does so. The first record was by the Lightning Seeds. The Lightning Seeds? ELO for the Nineties? It lasted for two minutes. Either that meant 2,000 people had bothered to text that quickly, or someone pulled the plug. I know where my money lies — in my experience, teenagers aren't awake at that time of morning, especially the day before they have to go back to school. Still, give him the benefit of the doubt and hope that he brought in something rather less uncool from his record collection this morning.
I know it is in the DJ's nature to be self-referential, but Moyles was really only happy when on the subject of Moyles. He told listeners when his promo film was going to be broadcast on television.
Later, in case the great British public had failed to get to a pencil and paper in time, he gave the details again. He pointed listeners to The Sun, in which there was a vox pop about his programme just begging to be filled in, in crayon. At 8am he played his opening jingle again, with its slighting references to other DJs and what seemed like 1,500 repetitions of The Chris Moyles Show. How self-obsessed is this man?
There were good bits, but they usually involved public humiliation, such as when he got Wes Official Chart Show Butters to do simple arithmetic and the poor lad couldn't. Wonderful. What an example for the kids — you too can be a national figure even if you can’t add 11 and 17.
Anyway, Moyles can hardly crow — he didn’t know that Alistair Griffin (No 5 this week on the official chart show) was on Fame Academy. I’m sorry, but it’s his job to know that.
Luckily one of his six helpers was around to fill the gap.
Still, give him his due — there was some good music: the Muse, the Strokes, Kylie doing Can’t Get You Out of my Head. Stuff for blokes. All he needs to do now is play more of that, and less of him.
Chris Moyles Review - By Chris Campling
Narcissus has nothing on Chris Moyles on his breakfast show
The first words of the first day of the rest of Chris Moyles's broadcasting life were about him, not by him. An extended jingle ran through the pantheon of Radio Fab DJs from Blackburn through Edmonds, Smashy and Nicey to Cox (which was rhymed with back in her box, which seems a bit harsh after she’s been so nice about him). It also described Moyles, inter alia, as the saviour of radio/ Until they fire his a***, thus establishing the air of defensive aggression that was to last through the next three hours.
But then that's Moyles all over, isn't it — a playground bully with a wicked tongue, bless him. And a well-developed sense of irony — the first song he played was the Move's Flowers in the Rain, just as it was back in 1967, when Tony Blackburn got Radio 1 going. It was a nice little nod to history which must have gone whizzzz over the heads of most of his audience.
He must have been nervous because he did say some strange things: It’s safe to listen to Radio 1 in the mornings, he trumpeted, and the ghost of Chris Evans wept. Still, it would have pleased the Radio 1 panjandrums. And it was certainly safe if you wanted to hear songs loosely devoted to the theme of Moyles. Thus we got U2's It's a Beautiful Day and Pink's God is a DJ (although Moyles said he didn't schedule it. As if).
Desperately casting around for more means with which to save broadcasting, Moyles swiftly went native, pointing out how early he and the other members of his team had got up (there seemed to be six, including Comedy Dave, an oxymoron if ever I’ve heard one). Later on he pointed to his 3.30am alarm call again. I'm sorry, but did he not consider this when he was bashing on the door saying: Let me do the Breakfast Show, I'm much better than Coxy — or at any rate less hungover.
And, yes, it does appear that Moyles is completely sober and fully rested. In fact, he probably made sure of getting his full ten hours the previous night, even if it meant going to bed at the same time as Keith Richards gets up. He was the class swot, in other words, getting his head down the night before a big exam.
Moyles is the great pretender, presenting himself as outrageous and off the wall, but, at heart, so conventional. One of the games he brought with him is called Buzz Off, in which he plays a song from his collection and, after receiving 2,000 text votes asking to take it off, does so. The first record was by the Lightning Seeds. The Lightning Seeds? ELO for the Nineties? It lasted for two minutes. Either that meant 2,000 people had bothered to text that quickly, or someone pulled the plug. I know where my money lies — in my experience, teenagers aren't awake at that time of morning, especially the day before they have to go back to school. Still, give him the benefit of the doubt and hope that he brought in something rather less uncool from his record collection this morning.
I know it is in the DJ's nature to be self-referential, but Moyles was really only happy when on the subject of Moyles. He told listeners when his promo film was going to be broadcast on television.
Later, in case the great British public had failed to get to a pencil and paper in time, he gave the details again. He pointed listeners to The Sun, in which there was a vox pop about his programme just begging to be filled in, in crayon. At 8am he played his opening jingle again, with its slighting references to other DJs and what seemed like 1,500 repetitions of The Chris Moyles Show. How self-obsessed is this man?
There were good bits, but they usually involved public humiliation, such as when he got Wes Official Chart Show Butters to do simple arithmetic and the poor lad couldn't. Wonderful. What an example for the kids — you too can be a national figure even if you can’t add 11 and 17.
Anyway, Moyles can hardly crow — he didn’t know that Alistair Griffin (No 5 this week on the official chart show) was on Fame Academy. I’m sorry, but it’s his job to know that.
Luckily one of his six helpers was around to fill the gap.
Still, give him his due — there was some good music: the Muse, the Strokes, Kylie doing Can’t Get You Out of my Head. Stuff for blokes. All he needs to do now is play more of that, and less of him.
