Pete Tong's In Music We Trust: Put A Donk On It – The Story of UK Bounce R1
Scott Mills R1
Fry's English Delight R4
The dice at Radio 1 are landing. Not to say that Andy Parfitt, the tosser (actually a nice man), didn't know which way they would fall. Despite the high-profile demotions – Jo Whiley, Edith Bowman, Steve Lamacq – much of his rip-it-up rethink has simply involved moving staff around. Nihal will host a review show on Thursday nights, Annie Mac and Pete Tong are swapping show times on a Friday.
One of the new proposals is a 9pm documentary strand every Monday, which will, the station hopes, introduce its young audience to pop music's recent history. So this week I tuned in to Put A Donk On It, a documentary about the style of house music known as "bounce" or "donk". Kutski, the station's hard-house expert, breezed likeably through the programme, his chatty Cheshire tones slotting in with the movement's top DJs, who mostly come from the north-west.
We heard from punters at Wigan Pier (older readers should sit down: this is now a bonkers commercial house night), who had come from all over the north: Newcastle, Liverpool, Scotland. "I'm Pete the milkman," said one. "Sixty-one today! I love it, it keeps me young." Trainspottery but welcoming, this was good fun, with DJs talking mistily about "back in 2002". Actually, it reminded me of back in 1989, or earlier (she says, sounding like Pete the milkman).
Radio 1's jiggery-pokery has resulted in some DJs moving up the status ladder: such as Scott Mills. Mills, Moyles, Westwood and to a lesser extent, Pete Tong, are now Radio 1's big boys, though Mills, to me, has always seemed strangely characterless. Still, he's a quick learner: his show, with its free-wheeling, chatty zoo format, has stolen much from Chris Moyles, but is presented in a younger, less bullying way. What Mills is amazing at is spotting an opportunity: he can take the smallest incident and somehow magic it into a proper event, an inclusive audience experience, often taking place outside the studio. It's actually very BBC, which the Tories might want to think about, with their ludicrous sell-off-Radio-1 proposals.
Anyhow, one of those small incidents morphed into Scott Mills: the Musical, which played three times this week at the Edinburgh festival to some critical acclaim. Mills's listeners wrote it; the lead (who plays Mills) is an unknown found by the show; Becky (one of Mills's on-air team) plays Kylie; Mills has a small role. And on Tuesday Mills's radio show spent a lot of time analysing the debut performance.
"This is the sound of me walking on to the stage," said Mills. "You stood there loads longer than you needed to," pointed out Becky, cheekily, "willing the audience to cheer you more." Later, Mills had his revenge, with four Chippendales turning up "with oil" for Becky's birthday. A potentially disastrous radio event – you'd think you'd have to see the Chipper chappies for it to be funny – actually made for hilarious listening. "Wow, you guys just know women," said Becky, as Mills informed us about the Chips's "no shirt and bow tie combos". It was, as the "posh Radio 4 lady" (part of Mills's team last week) said, "a very pleasing interlude".
Just time for a pleasing Stephen Fry interlude: he was triumphant on Just A Minute last week, like Kenneth Williams in his pomp, wiping the floor with the regulars, who eventually resorted to buzzing just to get a word in. And on Fry's English Delight, his returning show about the English language, he was equally successful. These programmes are, essentially, a lecture – Fry doesn't do many interviews himself, though I wish he did – in the style of a documentary, and Fry used this week's to bat aside established language rules.
So "to boldly go", our most famous split infinitive, is actually fine: it's merely a result of trying to impose Latin structure on English. And Fry's English Delight is fine, cosy and entertaining, if smug. It is, without doubt, the most Radio 4 of Radio 4 programmes. Listen! You can hear the audience purring.
