Pulp Radio

Good morning. Today we're talking about vibrators.

Good morning. Today we're taste-testing edible underwear.

Good morning. Today we're sharing bank-robbery tips.

By reputation, Portland is a goody two-shoes town. People thank their bus drivers just for getting them where they're going. Land-use planning is considered interesting. An afternoon of browsing the Powell's Blue Room passes for a red-hot date.

That may be true, but it's also false.

You don't have to look hard to find the Portland where strip clubs sprout like mushrooms and pro ball players enjoy intoxicants at high speed. For a true cruise of Portland's crass side, however, a trip down the FM dial between 6 am and 10 am beats any visit to the Dancin' Bare. On the public airwaves, you'll find jokes that would shock Lenny Bruce and scatological stupid human tricks that call natural selection into question.

In radio, morning matters most--more people listen between 6 and 7 am than at any other time of day. The fight for bleary-eyed listeners is a Darwinian battle. Millions of dollars are at stake. The gloves are off.

"There are other people who want to make it a personal battle," says Z100 morning host Chet Buchanan. "I don't really see it that way, but between 6 and 10 in the morning--when we're between the lines, so to speak--I want to take you out as much as you want to take me out. We're all trying to do the same thing."

At least since Howard Stern first picked up a mike, morning drive-time radio has pushed the edge of acceptability. But recently, local stations have cranked up the volume on sex and outrageousness in their quest for bigger slivers of the ratings pie. Some say the frenzy of buyouts that created a handful of massive national radio chains in the '90s plays a role. Others say the trend is due to a nation of imitators dittoheading Stern. Or maybe it's just the pressures of a media environment offering more distractions by the day.

One thing's for sure: If you're after a certain kind of radio audience in 2002, doin' it nasty works like crazy.

"I would say the envelope has been pushed," says Les Sarnoff, longtime host of KINK-FM's successful--and relatively tame--morning show. "The line has been blurred over the years, and it's almost as if some stations crossed into the dark zone. Ten years ago, there would have been protests in front of stations for some of the things that go on today, and you just won't see that happen anymore."

Good morning. Today's topic: the flavor of male ejaculate.

Good morning. Today we're playing strip trivia on the Hawthorne Bridge.

Good morning. Today we're drinking urine.

"I just took the biggest crap ever. I feel 20 pounds lighter...You know when you take that crap and you're like, 'Golly, I feel better'? It was like SoftServe."

Morning radio isn't all a madhouse--far from it. Portland's top-rated morning shows include such anodyne fare as KUPL's countrified "Waking Crew," KKSN's "fun oldies" and Sarnoff's venerable show.

But then there's the surreally wacky (KNRK), the shows flirting with the bounds of sanity (Z100), and those that just blast right through them, pedal to the floor and caution to the wind (Jammin 95.5). And, of course, there's King Howard himself, imported by KUFO. These stations provide Portland with rambling sex anecdotes, stream-of-consciousness pop-culture commentary, prank phone calls and talk of "pink tacos." It's no coincidence they're overheated--they're after a certain audience, and they're doing what conventional wisdom, market research and ratings all say works.

"In radio, you target narrowly for broad effect," says Mark Adams, the spiky-haired 31-year-old programming director for Jammin 95.5, a dress-down guy who wears athletic sweatshirts to work and created the station's juggernaut morning show, "The Playhouse." "You define the slice of the population you want narrowly, but then you go out and get them all, every last one."

Adams defines the Playhouse's all-important core listenership as "trendsetters," anywhere from age 12 to 24, with kids just out of high school and just entering college at its very center. ("There are soccer moms in Beaverton listening, too," he says.) According to data for summer 2002 released by the national ratings firm Arbitron, the Playhouse's hold on its key demographic beats out youth-market rivals Z100 and KNRK and makes it the seventh-most popular morning show overall. According to Tim McNamara, general manager of Paul Allen-owned sister stations Jammin and KXL-AM, Jammin has increased its share of the key 18-to-35-year-old demographic seven-fold since its 1999 switch to a hip-hop format. McNamara attributes a lot of that success to the Playhouse.

"Radio is built around the 'three Ms': music, marketing and mornings," McNamara says. "The ad community is starting to realize what this show can offer them." 7-Up soda, Fox TV, UPN-49, Maaco Auto Painting and Body Work, Stereo City, and Meier and Frank all rally to the Playhouse, for example. According to McNamara, the price of a 60-second ad on the Playhouse ranges from $175 to $200, depending on the number of times the spot runs. (Z100, the station Jammin views as its most direct competitor, charges a similar amount for spots during Buchanan's morning show.)

Caller: Hello, Playhouse!

Playhouse: Hel-lo!

Caller: I was at a party and got drunk and I went in the bedroom. I was gonna do my lady a little favor. And, uh, I apparently passed out, because I woke up between her legs and puked all over the place.

The weird thing is, you'd think radio would be the tamest medium around. After all, it's watchdogged by the federal government, which manages the airwaves.

Newspapers, on the other hand, can theoretically do whatever they want. But close your eyes and visualize the fireworks if The Oregonian printed a writer's meditation on a particularly satisfying bowel movement or a blow-by-blow vibrator tutorial: a mob of irate townsfolk would goose-step down Southwest Broadway armed with pitchforks, torches and angry letters to the Public Editor. At Willamette Week, we're still dodging fallout from a recent Callahan cartoon that depicted Anna Nicole Smith as a dairy cow. The "adult services" ads in the back of this paper are an evergreen source of controversy; last week, a reader wrote, "By accepting advertisements from the sex industry...you are propagating the values of not only this social order, but also the centuries-old patriarchal order of women as chattel."

Those beefs may have merit, but let's compare/contrast. Recent 95.5 Playhouse gags have featured co-host "Ebro" exhorting a cable-access sex-show personality to violate someone with a plastic prosthesis; on another segment, lead host "P.K." traded barbs with a mentally "slow" guest. It may not add up to Civilization's end, but it seems a little paradoxical for a medium regulated by the Federal Communications Commission.

Federal law (Title 18, Section 1464, for those scoring at home) gives the FCC the authority to warn, fine or suspend stations guilty of broadcasts judged "obscene" or "indecent." The commission recently slapped a Seattle station for morning chat involving "extensive discussion as to whether a penis is capable of pulling different types and sizes of objects...whether a penis would have to be erect to pull a 13-inch television." (And you thought federal employees never had any fun.)

"I think sometimes morning guys are a little too interested in being 'shocking,'" Z100's Buchanan says. "And then you become boring."

There's no record of any recent actions by the FCC against any of Portland's commercial morning shows for "obscene" or "indecent" programming. The feds did crack down on a local station in 2001, but their target was KBOO, the earnest little nonprofit station operated out of a scruffy Southeast storefront. KBOO aired a track by black activist/artist Sarah Jones attacking the mindless state of commercial hip-hop in which she used the word "blowjob." The FCC was not amused and levied a $7,000 fine, which the station has appealed. (See Rogue of the Week, WW, May 23, 2001.)

"I certainly find it ironic," says KBOO director Chris Merrick of his station's fine, viewed in light of some of the other content on local radio. "Can someone explain it to me?"

Ebro: I fell asleep with my face in some na-na before.

Scooter: I think I'd like to wake up to that. That'd be kinda nice.

Ebro: Yeah, you wake up and there's a pretty little thing right there.

Scooter: Hi, there, pink taco. How ya doin'? Good morning.

How do they get away with it? Start with the fact that the FCC typically investigates a station only when listeners complain--and the carefully cultivated "psychographic" for a show like the Playhouse isn't likely to go running to the G-Men when someone says "na-na."

"We've trained our audience," Jammin programming director Adams says. "They know they're going to hear outrageous things. Believe it or not, we get very few complaints. You don't want to get in trouble. But it all comes down to community standards. Stations in other places get fined for stuff we do and don't get fined for. And there are things stations elsewhere do that we would never get away with in a million years."

In other words, the brand of radio the Playhouse produces is part brinksmanship, part sass and 100 percent calculation.

P.K.: If you missed it, if you weren't with us, the terms we were going through were, like, 'Donkey Punch.'

Ebro: That's when you're doing it doggie-style with a girl and you...what do you do?

Scooter: You punch her in the back of the head, right when you're about to do your thing.

Several locally produced shows woo the kids with wacky antics, but if you want to see the state of the art, go to Jammin 95.5's nondescript corporate offices in Lair Hill. Portland's only all-hip-hop station shares digs with talk-radio sister KXL, an AM station dominated by right-wing talkers like Michael Savage and Lars Larson. Both stations are owned by Microsoft billionaire Paul Allen, the same man responsible for your team of NBA scofflaws. In fact, Adams attributes much of the freedom the Playhouse enjoys to the fact that Jammin is not a part of a major radio chain.

"I'd be in a mental home if I were trying to run this kind of morning show at one of the major conglomerates," Jammin's Adams says. "I'd be ready to slit my wrists."

Paul Allen provides the capital and Adams sketched the Playhouse's original blueprint, but the show's day-to-day wattage is supplied by its four mainstay "personalities." P.K., a 24-year-old who's been in radio since he was 14 and still speaks with a hint of his native Greek accent, is the lead host. Jammin plucked P.K. and Scooter from a station in Sacramento; P.K. broke his contract to come to Portland. "They called me, and I told 'em I go don't anywhere without Scooter," P.K. says.

As the show's driving force, he prepares with obsessive zeal, attaching himself to a notebook throughout the day, waking up at 3:30 am to scan Fox News and the Internet for gag fodder, hitting the station at 4 in the morning to knock out an outline of the morning's mayhem. This is the skeletal framework in which the chaos--or solid-gold showbiz magic, if you want to look at it that way--must unfold, and P.K. brings a lot of competitive intensity to its preparation.

"I want everyone here to have the mentality that this is a war," he says. "We're going to be No. 1, and screw everybody else. The people who say it's 'just radio' can kiss my ass. Anyone who tells me I can't be No. 1, again, can kiss my ass."

Not everyone on the show preps with such rigor. "I basically get drunk and go to clubs and chase bitches," says co-host Ebro.

Scooter: The 'Chili Dog' is my favorite.

General uproar: No...no...disgusting...

Scooter: That's when you're getting oral gratification and you puke on the girl's chest...

P.K.: That is kind of funny. The 'Chili Dog.'

Scooter: And then you begin to slide your, uh...between her boobs. That's a 'Chili Dog.'

A typical installment of the Playhouse consists of a nonstop stream of sound effects, headlines both straight and weird (like a recent story about a woman who sold her kid for $2,000), questions for callers ("Where was the weirdest place you ever woke up drunk?"), lame-brain stunts (touch football in the office--and have we mentioned the urine drinking?) and rambling discourse on everything from sex toys to gentrification.

One factor distinguishing the Playhouse from most of Portland radio is its racial inclusivity. Co-hosts Ebro and Sonie, both African-American and both active in the local music scene, are perhaps the strongest minority voices on Portland's commercial radio. The Playhouse is one of the few media outlets in the city that seems to assume, rather than vainly hope, that it's reaching an audience of many colors.

"Hip-hop radio nationwide is the most diverse format in terms of listeners," Ebro says. "We bring that to the airwaves, and the feedback we get is great, because it is a diverse audience.

"P.K. is the golden boy image of the show," he continues. "I'm more into the lifestyle, the music and the artists. Sonie is the woman's view and kind of the mother on the show. And Scooter is the village idiot."

Ah, yes: Scooter. A somewhat portly white guy (though he's not as fat as the on-air ribbing he takes might lead one to believe), Scooter is the man the Playhouse looks to for anarchy and nausea. For example, on a recent November morning, commuters on the Hawthorne Bridge were confronted with the spectacle of Scooter taking his clothes off; the Playhouse sent him to the bridge with a microphone as part of a "strip trivia" gag. The cops, who initially thought he was a suicidal bridge jumper, did not get much of a laugh out of it. They slapped him in cuffs and took him downtown. ("Scooter's been arrested several times," Adams notes.)

"There have been times I've been ready to kill Scooter," McNamara says. "But you can't get mad at him for doing what he's told. P.K. tells him to jump off the cliff, and over he goes."

Scooter's willingness to do just about anything adds a key element to a mix that's designed to flow seamlessly at a pace tailored to eggshell attention spans, all the while seeming like unscripted bedlam. The Playhouse is a restless montage of noise and chatter, flitting from its own brand of seriousness (the show distinguished itself this summer with its impromptu coverage of the Oregon City murders, for example) to shamelessness in an eyeblink. You might hear P.K. hassling some hapless Italian guy, prank-calling in the guise of a stereotypical mafioso. Mentally retarded guests are a recurring favorite; the hosts recently prodded a guy named J.V. to tell them "what kind of fruit grows on a fig tree," without much success. You might even hear a relatively substantial discussion of current events. Or, then again, about whether 8-year-old girls should wear lingerie.

Certainly, despite occasional lapses into near-seriousness, there's no hint that either MacNeil or Lehrer will be dropping by the Playhouse any time soon. But for all its carefully planned goofus behavior, the Jammin morning show manages to be some things many other Portland media outlets would love to be: incessantly lively, racially democratic, naughty by nature, hard-wired to the pulse of Now and, if ratings are to be believed, in perfect sync with its target audience.

The sexed-up content of the Playhouse (to say nothing of Jammin's generally lusty musical oeuvre) is also striking because the station's demographics seem to tilt heavily toward women. (Sonie, the show's maternal co-host, does temper the action sometimes.) But even some who aren't necessarily excited about the portrayal of women in popular hip-hop today say blaming shows like the Playhouse would mix up cause and effect.

"I don't have a problem with the popular radio shows, particularly the Playhouse," says local hip-hop and spoken-word artist Rochelle D. Hart, whose work packs a powerful feminist punch. "Radio shows are simply responding to the public's demands. Sex, sex, sex, party, party, party, drugs, drugs, drugs. If you listen to mainstream radio, you could seriously think that there is nothing more to life for the young generation. I place no responsibility in their lap. Radio responds to popular culture, and sadly, what's popular right now, and has been for a long time, is the sexual exploitation of women."

The Playhouse and other morning radio shows may just be the result of a few old show-business maxims reaching their logical conclusions: The customer is always right, and no one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the public.

"The bottom line is to be entertaining," P.K. says. "It's not about being outrageous. If I can have someone sitting in their car for an extra five minutes saying, 'Oh my God,' and they're entertained, I'm happy. If I have to go to jail to make that happen--"

Scooter cuts him off, screaming. "BUT YOU WON'T, AND I WILL."

"Wow," P.K. says. "Thank you."

According to Arbitron, 95 percent of Americans listen to the radio at least once a month.

According to the industry site www.Radioandrecords.com , the top 10 Portland commercial radio stations for fall '02 are:

KKCW (K103)
KUPL (98.7)
KKSN (Kisn FM)
KXJM (Jammin 95.5)
KUFO (101)
KKRZ (Z100)
KEX (1190 AM)
KRVO (105.9 The River)
KGON (92.3)
KINK (101.9)



According to Media Audit, a company that surveys local media markets, there are about 1.65 million adults in the Portland metro radio market.



In Media Audit's spring 2002 survey, 4.8 percent (approximately 79,200) of respondents say they listen to Jammin 95.5 most often; 3.3 percent (approximately 54,450) say they listen to KNRK most often; 2.9 percent (approximately 47,850) listen to Z100 most often.



Oregon Public Broadcasting scored the highest percentage in the Media Audit survey, with 7.8 percent (approximately 128,700) listening to it most often.



By contrast, Willamette Week's Media Audit-estimated readership is approximately 352,200 a month; the Oregonian's A&E section reaches an estimated 510,800 readers a month.



According to Media Audit, the median age of a Jammin 95.5 listener is 25.22 years old.



In the Jammin 95.5 hierarchy, Mark Adams reports to Tim McNamara, and McNamara reports to Bob Whitsitt.



"Bob Whitsitt and Paul Allen think independently," says Tim McNamara. "They just want to win."



On Monday, Dec. 2, the Playhouse announced that Ebro will leave the show at the end of the month. His replacement has not been announced.



Entertaining accounts of broadcasts judged obscene and indecent by the FCC can be found at
www.fcc.gov/eb/broadcast/obscind.html .



"The times I've thought we were really going to get in trouble about something--nothing," Chet Buchanan says. "When people get what you're doing, they're willing to let it slide."



The Playhouse personalities declined to disclose their full names.



A DVD featuring footage of a number of Playhouse stunts is now available at local video stores. Video, audio archives and still photos from the show can be accessed at www.jamminfm.com/playhouse.asp .

WWeek 2015