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It would be hard to tell the story of Rock and Roll without also telling that of Pop radio and its personalities. From Rock and Roll pioneers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to the U.K. artists, such as the Beatles and the Kinks, who heard American music and reinterpreted it for American audiences, radio was the place where they got their goods. And DJs were there to deliver them. Ambassadors and missionaries, they brought a steady stream of new music to expectant audiences. Among those DJs, several became celebrities in their own right. Murray the K fancied himself the fifth Beatle. Dewey Phillips was a regular at Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. Alan Freed was listed as a co-writer on Chuck Berry's first single, "Maybellene" — a situation that, due to Freed's high profile, Chuck Berry liked (until he definitely didn't like it). The DJs were the tastemakers that teenagers everywhere turned to.
Due in the second phase of this project, this chapter's lessons will demonstrate that the story of Rock and Roll radio is also a story of technology. With the birth of the transistor device, young radio listeners could break away from the family console to hear the DJs who geared their programs toward teens. Or they could dial in to the black stations where Rhythm and Blues was presented for African-American audiences but widely consumed by young white people. Of course, this racial mixing that radio allowed cut both ways: as Soul music later revealed, African Americans in the South made up a big part of the Grand Ole Opry's listening audience. In the universe of radio, things were possible that were not possible elsewhere.
Of course, because of radio there was more money to be made on records sold. With the advent of Top 40 radio, the songs that made it to the upper reaches of the charts became even bigger as hits: the shorter the playlist, the more rotations for each chart-topping recording. And record companies had an interest in getting all the airplay they could. No surprise, then, that the 1959 "payola" scandal revealed extensive pay-for-play practices in the industry, bringing about the sad end of Allan Freed's remarkable career as a DJ.
The focus in the chapter's final lesson is Free Form FM radio, the brainchild of DJ and entrepreneur Tom Donahue. Different from Top 40, Free Form — at least in it's purest version — avoided the playlist, letting the DJ create a unique tapestry of musical choices. Born of the hippie ethos, Free Form threw out the rule book. What it didn't throw out, however, was the DJ.
lesson:
Radio Before Rock and Roll
How did radio influence American life in the years before the birth of Rock and Roll?
lesson:
Rhythm and Blues Hit the Airwaves
How did Dewey Phillips and Hunter Hancock help bring Rhythm and Blues music to mixed race audiences?
Video
video:
DJs
<p>It would be hard to tell the story of Rock and Roll without also telling that of Pop radio and its personalities. From Rock and Roll pioneers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to the U.K. artists, such as the Beatles and the Kinks, who heard American music and reinterpreted it for American audiences, radio was the place where they got their goods. And DJs were there to deliver them. Ambassadors and missionaries, they brought a steady stream of new music to expectant audiences. Among those DJs, several became celebrities in their own right. Murray the K fancied himself the fifth Beatle. Dewey Phillips was a regular at Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. Alan Freed was listed as a co-writer on Chuck Berry's first single, "Maybellene" -- a situation that, due to Freed's high profile, Chuck Berry liked (until he definitely didn't like it). The DJs were the tastemakers that teenagers everywhere turned to.</p> <p>Due in the second phase of this project, this chapter's lessons will demonstrate that the story of Rock and Roll radio is also a story of technology. With the birth of the transistor device, young radio listeners could break away from the family console to hear the DJs who geared their programs toward teens. Or they could dial in to the black stations where Rhythm and Blues was presented for African-American audiences but widely consumed by young white people. Of course, this racial mixing that radio allowed cut both ways: as Soul music later revealed, African Americans in the South made up a big part of the Grand Ole Opry's listening audience. In the universe of radio, things were possible that were not possible elsewhere.</p> <p>Of course, because of radio there was more money to be made on records sold. With the advent of Top 40 radio, the songs that made it to the upper reaches of the charts became even bigger as hits: the shorter the playlist, the more rotations for each chart-topping recording. And record companies had an interest in getting all the airplay they could. No surprise, then, that the 1959 "payola" scandal revealed extensive pay-for-play practices in the industry, bringing about the sad end of Allan Freed's remarkable career as a DJ.</p> <p>The focus in the chapter's final lesson is Free Form FM radio, the brainchild of DJ and entrepreneur Tom Donahue. Different from Top 40, Free Form -- at least in it's purest version -- avoided the playlist, letting the DJ create a unique tapestry of musical choices. Born of the hippie ethos, Free Form threw out the rule book. What it didn't throw out, however, was the DJ.</p>
video:
On Alan Freed
<p>It would be hard to tell the story of Rock and Roll without also telling that of Pop radio and its personalities. From Rock and Roll pioneers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to the U.K. artists, such as the Beatles and the Kinks, who heard American music and reinterpreted it for American audiences, radio was the place where they got their goods. And DJs were there to deliver them. Ambassadors and missionaries, they brought a steady stream of new music to expectant audiences. Among those DJs, several became celebrities in their own right. Murray the K fancied himself the fifth Beatle. Dewey Phillips was a regular at Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. Alan Freed was listed as a co-writer on Chuck Berry's first single, "Maybellene" -- a situation that, due to Freed's high profile, Chuck Berry liked (until he definitely didn't like it). The DJs were the tastemakers that teenagers everywhere turned to.</p> <p>Due in the second phase of this project, this chapter's lessons will demonstrate that the story of Rock and Roll radio is also a story of technology. With the birth of the transistor device, young radio listeners could break away from the family console to hear the DJs who geared their programs toward teens. Or they could dial in to the black stations where Rhythm and Blues was presented for African-American audiences but widely consumed by young white people. Of course, this racial mixing that radio allowed cut both ways: as Soul music later revealed, African Americans in the South made up a big part of the Grand Ole Opry's listening audience. In the universe of radio, things were possible that were not possible elsewhere.</p> <p>Of course, because of radio there was more money to be made on records sold. With the advent of Top 40 radio, the songs that made it to the upper reaches of the charts became even bigger as hits: the shorter the playlist, the more rotations for each chart-topping recording. And record companies had an interest in getting all the airplay they could. No surprise, then, that the 1959 "payola" scandal revealed extensive pay-for-play practices in the industry, bringing about the sad end of Allan Freed's remarkable career as a DJ.</p> <p>The focus in the chapter's final lesson is Free Form FM radio, the brainchild of DJ and entrepreneur Tom Donahue. Different from Top 40, Free Form -- at least in it's purest version -- avoided the playlist, letting the DJ create a unique tapestry of musical choices. Born of the hippie ethos, Free Form threw out the rule book. What it didn't throw out, however, was the DJ.</p>
video:
Huntin’ with Hunter
<p>It would be hard to tell the story of Rock and Roll without also telling that of Pop radio and its personalities. From Rock and Roll pioneers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to the U.K. artists, such as the Beatles and the Kinks, who heard American music and reinterpreted it for American audiences, radio was the place where they got their goods. And DJs were there to deliver them. Ambassadors and missionaries, they brought a steady stream of new music to expectant audiences. Among those DJs, several became celebrities in their own right. Murray the K fancied himself the fifth Beatle. Dewey Phillips was a regular at Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. Alan Freed was listed as a co-writer on Chuck Berry's first single, "Maybellene" -- a situation that, due to Freed's high profile, Chuck Berry liked (until he definitely didn't like it). The DJs were the tastemakers that teenagers everywhere turned to.</p> <p>Due in the second phase of this project, this chapter's lessons will demonstrate that the story of Rock and Roll radio is also a story of technology. With the birth of the transistor device, young radio listeners could break away from the family console to hear the DJs who geared their programs toward teens. Or they could dial in to the black stations where Rhythm and Blues was presented for African-American audiences but widely consumed by young white people. Of course, this racial mixing that radio allowed cut both ways: as Soul music later revealed, African Americans in the South made up a big part of the Grand Ole Opry's listening audience. In the universe of radio, things were possible that were not possible elsewhere.</p> <p>Of course, because of radio there was more money to be made on records sold. With the advent of Top 40 radio, the songs that made it to the upper reaches of the charts became even bigger as hits: the shorter the playlist, the more rotations for each chart-topping recording. And record companies had an interest in getting all the airplay they could. No surprise, then, that the 1959 "payola" scandal revealed extensive pay-for-play practices in the industry, bringing about the sad end of Allan Freed's remarkable career as a DJ.</p> <p>The focus in the chapter's final lesson is Free Form FM radio, the brainchild of DJ and entrepreneur Tom Donahue. Different from Top 40, Free Form -- at least in it's purest version -- avoided the playlist, letting the DJ create a unique tapestry of musical choices. Born of the hippie ethos, Free Form threw out the rule book. What it didn't throw out, however, was the DJ.</p>
video:
Red, Hot and Blue
<p>It would be hard to tell the story of Rock and Roll without also telling that of Pop radio and its personalities. From Rock and Roll pioneers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to the U.K. artists, such as the Beatles and the Kinks, who heard American music and reinterpreted it for American audiences, radio was the place where they got their goods. And DJs were there to deliver them. Ambassadors and missionaries, they brought a steady stream of new music to expectant audiences. Among those DJs, several became celebrities in their own right. Murray the K fancied himself the fifth Beatle. Dewey Phillips was a regular at Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. Alan Freed was listed as a co-writer on Chuck Berry's first single, "Maybellene" -- a situation that, due to Freed's high profile, Chuck Berry liked (until he definitely didn't like it). The DJs were the tastemakers that teenagers everywhere turned to.</p> <p>Due in the second phase of this project, this chapter's lessons will demonstrate that the story of Rock and Roll radio is also a story of technology. With the birth of the transistor device, young radio listeners could break away from the family console to hear the DJs who geared their programs toward teens. Or they could dial in to the black stations where Rhythm and Blues was presented for African-American audiences but widely consumed by young white people. Of course, this racial mixing that radio allowed cut both ways: as Soul music later revealed, African Americans in the South made up a big part of the Grand Ole Opry's listening audience. In the universe of radio, things were possible that were not possible elsewhere.</p> <p>Of course, because of radio there was more money to be made on records sold. With the advent of Top 40 radio, the songs that made it to the upper reaches of the charts became even bigger as hits: the shorter the playlist, the more rotations for each chart-topping recording. And record companies had an interest in getting all the airplay they could. No surprise, then, that the 1959 "payola" scandal revealed extensive pay-for-play practices in the industry, bringing about the sad end of Allan Freed's remarkable career as a DJ.</p> <p>The focus in the chapter's final lesson is Free Form FM radio, the brainchild of DJ and entrepreneur Tom Donahue. Different from Top 40, Free Form -- at least in it's purest version -- avoided the playlist, letting the DJ create a unique tapestry of musical choices. Born of the hippie ethos, Free Form threw out the rule book. What it didn't throw out, however, was the DJ.</p>
video:
Radio Interview – The Dewey Phillips Show
<p>It would be hard to tell the story of Rock and Roll without also telling that of Pop radio and its personalities. From Rock and Roll pioneers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to the U.K. artists, such as the Beatles and the Kinks, who heard American music and reinterpreted it for American audiences, radio was the place where they got their goods. And DJs were there to deliver them. Ambassadors and missionaries, they brought a steady stream of new music to expectant audiences. Among those DJs, several became celebrities in their own right. Murray the K fancied himself the fifth Beatle. Dewey Phillips was a regular at Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. Alan Freed was listed as a co-writer on Chuck Berry's first single, "Maybellene" -- a situation that, due to Freed's high profile, Chuck Berry liked (until he definitely didn't like it). The DJs were the tastemakers that teenagers everywhere turned to.</p> <p>Due in the second phase of this project, this chapter's lessons will demonstrate that the story of Rock and Roll radio is also a story of technology. With the birth of the transistor device, young radio listeners could break away from the family console to hear the DJs who geared their programs toward teens. Or they could dial in to the black stations where Rhythm and Blues was presented for African-American audiences but widely consumed by young white people. Of course, this racial mixing that radio allowed cut both ways: as Soul music later revealed, African Americans in the South made up a big part of the Grand Ole Opry's listening audience. In the universe of radio, things were possible that were not possible elsewhere.</p> <p>Of course, because of radio there was more money to be made on records sold. With the advent of Top 40 radio, the songs that made it to the upper reaches of the charts became even bigger as hits: the shorter the playlist, the more rotations for each chart-topping recording. And record companies had an interest in getting all the airplay they could. No surprise, then, that the 1959 "payola" scandal revealed extensive pay-for-play practices in the industry, bringing about the sad end of Allan Freed's remarkable career as a DJ.</p> <p>The focus in the chapter's final lesson is Free Form FM radio, the brainchild of DJ and entrepreneur Tom Donahue. Different from Top 40, Free Form -- at least in it's purest version -- avoided the playlist, letting the DJ create a unique tapestry of musical choices. Born of the hippie ethos, Free Form threw out the rule book. What it didn't throw out, however, was the DJ.</p>
Print Journalism
article:
Alan Freed: Mr Rock’n’Roll
ALAN FREED, the man responsible for giving rock'n'roll its name, was many things to many people. To some, he was the original Mr Clean, an innocent 'good guy', who opened up hitherto-segregated airwaves and made an unparalleled contribution to the advancement of black popular music. This was the sympathetic impression conveyed by the Floyd Mutrux 1978 bio-pic, American Hot Wax. 'He brought us rock'n'roll,' said Mutrux. 'I didn't want to say bad things about a guy who started all that.' To others like Alexander Walker, the London Evening Standard film critic who met the volatile disc jockey during his heyday, Freed was a pathetic...
article:
Murray the K’s Entitled!
If anybody is... WHFS IS A 5000-watt FM station with call letters that were meant to stand for High Fidelty Stereo. It was the first station to broadcast mutiplex in the D.C. area, transmitting from a 150-foot antenna atop the Triangle Towers, a fifteen-story apartment house at 4853 Cordell Avenue, right across the street from the Psyche Delli and the Bank of Bethesda in Bethesda, Maryland. You can always tell you're in Bethesda by the way they always keep the white lines white. Bethesda has one of the highest per capita incomes of all the municipalities in America. The WHFS studios...