As a child, I was obsessed with radio. I’d sit at the kitchen bench, bursting for the next tune, knowing that it could be the best thing I’d ever heard. Even now, radio is special to me. Last year, I wrote, “Radio is magic; I’d love to be a part of it.”
You didn’t read that in the Listener; it was in the CV I sent to RNZ Concert, applying for the role of Mornings presenter. I didn’t get the job. I didn’t get an interview. Andrew Clark got both. He’s on a Zoom call with me, which I have every intention of making awkward.
I’m told he’s lovely but I’m not ready to believe it. Not yet. He does have a lovely Scottish burr, though. Clark grew up in the east of the country and at 12 started trumpet lessons then trombone, before switching to euphonium. He drew the line when his teacher suggested tuba.
“I said, ‘No. I live 12 miles from school. I have to take the public bus, and I’m killing enough pensioners as it is getting on with a euphonium case. I’m not doing tuba.’”
He retains a love of brass music and sometimes sneaks in a piece in the lead-up to the news.
“I like the mellow sound and I adore baroque trumpet,” Clark says. “Nothing too sharp for the morning; I’ve not had anyone say, ‘Too much bloody trumpet.’”
Before taking my dream job, Clark was a journalist for the BBC, Al Jazeera and SBS, his career choice spurred, perhaps, by an uncanny knack of being on the spot at momentous events. He was studying in East Germany as first the Berlin Wall, then communism, was torn down. He was at the BBC’s offices when a car bomb went off outside. Perhaps most shocking of all, he was in Latvia to witness the UK’s infamous nul points at the Eurovision Song Contest.
Most recently, he was a host on Australian classical station 2MBS. When he gets homesick, though, he listens to the music of Scotland: Runrig, Dougie MacLean. He’s bringing some of that to Mornings.
“We’ve launched the Celtic Corner, based on feedback we’ve had about the Scottish connections. I guess that’s what we’re trying to do – connect people to the music. When I played Loch Lomond, a listener told us she remembered singing it as a kid.”
Not all connections are positive. The day we speak, a Tuvan throat singer has divided opinion.
“You don’t want to experiment with the audience too much, but there’s got to be an ebb and flow. We note the feedback and take it on board; we’re just trying to be as broad as possible.”
Whichever side of the Tuvan throat singing debate you rest on, it’s worth tuning in. You may just stumble across the best thing you’ve ever heard. And besides, Clark’s pretty good. And maybe a little bit lovely. But only a little bit.
