The pandemic impacted broadcasting at all levels. Hannah Quearney, a dedicated committee member of Trinity FM and guest on the femme-focused DDR show WWWIRL, recounted to me her experience of broadcasting on college radio during the pandemic. “The times where I’d tune into my friends' shows were really the only times I’d hear their voices. We were all very tucked away from each other then. So listening to their shows was like being on a FaceTime call.” Especially for small and close-knit college radio stations like Trinity FM, broadcasting was a way in which friends would communicate with each other. Since Trinity FM is digitally broadcasted, there is little-to-no censorship (besides the rare noise complaints from campus security.) Trinity FM even acknowledges the free-reign nature of their broadcasts with “Bitch-Fest,” a semi-monthly broadcast where anyone can come in and give their opinion on a topic of their choice. The result of this creative freedom is intimate programming, as Quearney says: “You get a very particular insight into how a person’s brain works, and can learn a lot about them just by listening.”
Quearney, who is also a writer, commented on the unfiltered nature of radio. You feel a lot more comfortable talking into a microphone than you would putting pen to paper. Removed from the ability to mark and edit your content, what you say ends up being a lot more organic and vulnerable. “People do reveal a certain aspect of themselves that they usually wouldn’t say if you were having a casual conversation.” The nature of being in a studio and having the time to sit down and talk about whatever interests you yields fascinating results. There is a sense of liberation that comes with digital broadcasting, as you are able to share with the world whatever you want, with little to no external influence. Radio, to Quearney and others, is something extremely personal, be it the experience of listening or broadcasting.
While Quearney is only twenty years old, her story of listening to pirate radio stations while cruising through backroads of the country proved timeless, as radio veterans Peter Curtin and Kate Butler recounted their own similar experiences of growing up on FM.
“Listening to the radio was an escape from my rural town. I could be transported anywhere in the world.” Curtin’s love for music led him to pursue broadcasting, where he worked through various stations before ending up at RTE 2XM and Worldwide FM. He uses his platform to feature up-and-coming artists in Ireland. Peter’s shows, Groover’s Corner and WW ÉIREANN, are ways for him to share music he’s passionate about. “It’s just about giving people from Ireland a platform to get their music out there. It’s amazing, too, to hear back from the artists who feel encouraged from being played.”
Being a broadcaster also means being heavily involved in the Irish scene, as Curtin is always keeping up with musicians. His music collective Prima Volta organises gigs in Limerick, taking the opportunity to showcase artists from around the country, with recent gigs featuring acts like Negro Impacto, Bricknasty, Cooks But We’re Chefs, E The Artist, Julia Louise Knifefist, Rory Sweeney, Curtisy, Ahmed, With Love, and Fehdah. Peter’s role as an encouraging mentor for home-grown talent is vital, providing emerging musicians the opportunity to gain exposure and thrive, while also having a great time. Commenting on the enthusiastic energy at Prima Volta shows, he said: “It makes you feel hope for younger musicians. The kids are gonna be alright.”
Likewise, Kate Butler gives youth in Dublin an opportunity to DJ with the DDR Atomic Sessions. The show was originally put forth as a way to get more young women involved in STEM but has since expanded to include all genders and a diverse array of backgrounds. Butler got her start on Power.FM, a pirate radio station from the early 2000s, before becoming a volunteer at DDR in 2017.
After living through and witnessing the many inequalities in the world and Ireland, Butler saw the potential of radio to be socially transformative. Pirate and digital radio presents alternate modes for creating and sharing art, as there is less of a profit incentive. “What I like about DDR is that it’s non-commercial. It’s essentially a fringe activity, which is something we need more of since things have gotten so much more commercial since the 2008 recession... In the 90s when we were involved with rave there was always a battle with commercialism, but there seemed to be enough room for an underground to exist. It seems like that space has been nearly eradicated in the 2020s.” Volunteer-run and non-commercial organisations like DDR create space for fringe activities, prioritising art as a community activity rather than as a profit-driven activity. As Butler puts it, “DDR is a platform where people can work together and share their creative power. It’s like a network, or a clubー for people who are into really gnarly, distorted club music.”
What does the future of the Dublin underground scene look like? I talked to two of Butler’s protégés on the matter.
Alice Farrell, a first-year at Trinity, sees a convergence of digital with local, along with a future that recognises marginalised voices. Farrell got invited to broadcast after her music blog (@short.truth) was discovered by Vincent Boyle of DubX radio, along with being recruited by Kate Butler for Atomic. Farrell, like other members of Gen Z, grew up during a cultural turning pointー being part of the last generation to experience quality alternative radio on FM but also being steeped in Internet music communities. When asked about how the Internet is shaping radio, she responded “Just by being online you are accessible to everyone. Because digital radio is not based on FM, you’re not constrained to the same geographical limits.” For Farrell and many other members of Gen Z, the Internet made opportunities for creative collaboration with people around the world as well as expanding her taste in music. “If it weren’t for the Internet, I wouldn’t have gotten into many female pop musicians I love.”
Farrell is committed to highlighting female and LGBT+ voices in music. The DJ scene is still male-dominanted, which can be daunting for young women. While she doesn’t want to dismiss the hard work of many male DJs, she recognises there are extra barriers put up for her and other young women. “Sometimes it feels like girls instinctively deny themselves opportunities because they think it’s only for men only. I think it’s easier as a girl to doubt your taste and your talent.” Farrell thinks that there is a change in societal attitude occurring, “I think the scene is opening up a lot more… It’s important to give these groups spaces to be represented so that we can have female and minority DJs further down the line.”
Meanwhile to Jack Fanciulli A.K.A. Asa Nisi Masa, broadcasting is a gateway to another dimension. Fanciulli is a second-year at Trinity and showrunner of The Dink Room on DDR. He was first introduced to radio through Atomic as well. As a DJ, Fanciulli wanted to explore his interests past dance music. “[The Dink Room] is an outlet for me to share music without the obligation to make people dance,” so his shows feature a lot more ambient, drone, and noise than you would hear in the club (though Fanciulli has been known to play “hoe-scaring music” at gigs). When asked about the difference between performing live and broadcasting, he said “I feel like gigs are a lot more linear. In radio, time is distilled into a little time slot. So it becomes a liminal space, of sorts.” Fanciulli calls his shows “little two hour sound worlds,” being opportunities to explore themes, sounds, and environments that are often inexplicable. Fanciulli has the same mystical relationship with his solo music as well, with projects ranging from noise rock to rap to ambient. When asked to describe his EP, A Garden Without Birds, he said, “It’s hard to express in words, but you can get a sense by listening to it.” Music and broadcasting, in that sense, is a catharsis; a melding of sonic parts into a unified and pristine whole.
There is an intrinsic quality to radio that can not be entirely understood nor expressed by words. The best thing would be to refer to the March 2022 episode of the DDR show No Tourists, called “Radio on Radio”. The episode centres around the concept of radio itself as a medium. The two hosts live in completely different countries (one in Germany, the other in Belgium) and are only able to create content because of online communication and collaboration, resulting in enthralling audio collages that navigate an interwoven digital world. The episode intermixes monologues with an assortment of obscure clips, ranging from North Vietnamese propaganda to radio pop hits to emergency alarms to assassinated conspiracy theorists to static noise. “Radio on Radio,” begs those who tune in to truly listen, and reflect on their own connection between what they hear and who they are. Radio fills a cultural void, existing as a liminal space in culture where various facets of our society convergeー be it the news, education, or music. It is a meeting point for all things pertaining to society at large.
Notably, everyone I talked to was involved in their own passionate endeavours beyond radio, whether it be music, writing, activism, or visual art. They are all, in their own ways, striving to keep the local scenes alive. Dublin, and Ireland at large, is a hostile place for artistic youth, as they lack the resources and spaces to express themselves. Community driven radio initiatives are breaking down artistic barriers by giving people, especially youth, the opportunity to speak up and express themselves. Radio’s accessibility makes it a place where creatives of all sorts are able to meet. Through a continued commitment to cultivating these communities, Dublin’s scene can reroot itself and bloom once again.
