This has nothing to do with “pipes”, as voices are often referred to in the radio business. Your “voice” has nothing to do with – well, your voice.
Abe Lincoln is said to have had a high-pitched, somewhat nasal, and flat vocal delivery. Some historians suggest that Abe would have had trouble being taken seriously in the world of modern media influence. That may be true but it’s also an indictment of the sound-bite mentality we’re forced to live with today. History suggests that Lincoln was a powerful speaker, delivering rousing speeches to flesh-and-blood people standing before him, exhibiting his dignity and his native intelligence with forceful and compassionate conviction.
That’s “voice”. It’s a way of speaking, a developed skill that makes us somehow different and believable.
There are rich, deep, resonant voices and quirky, soft voices. Most of us have average voices that are unique but still make us sound like everybody else. We can work with that.
Some of the greatest radio personalities who ever lived had average or even puny voices but they all had an enormous understanding of who they were, belief in what they had to say, and confidence in their skill to deliver.
There is no greater earthly power than belief in one’s self.
Your on-air “voice”, your comfort and confidence with who you are and the person you project, is something that only comes with life and radio experience. It becomes your style, comprised of tone, cadence, pacing, inflection, and phrasing. And yes, the sound of your voice is part of that. It’s as unique as every other part of your existence.
You’ll know when you’ve found it; it hits you the day you realize you’ve grown up when after years of just talking, you know who you are when you pop that mic. It happens suddenly one day. For the first time, all the scattered jigsaw pieces of you fall into place.
Writers are always talking about “voice”. There was only one Mark Twain, just one Ernest Hemingway. Nobody writes like Ayn Rand or Shakespeare or Dickens.
The great actors consume the words of superb writers, They memorize their words and have the learned skill to deliver them with conviction through their personal “voice”.
Radio is no different.
Millions of people in the world have perfect “pipes” and a natural gift for singing with musical precision, but there are very few with the one-of-a-kind ability to phrase and bend words that strike hearts and imaginations. That ability can only emerge with time, talent, practice, and self-confidence.
That’s “voice”.
What creates our radio “voice”? The influence of the voices we’ve admired, certainly. My career has been influenced by such remarkable radio talents as Robert W. Morgan, Bobby Ocean, Paul Harvey, and others whose names I’ve momentarily forgotten and you’re less likely to know. Early on, I mimicked the phrasing and delivery of my heroes.
Eventually, I absorbed the best aspects of their individual talents without trying to copy them. Morgan had a fascinating ability to touch people through an inspired combination of mirth and cool condescension. Bobby Ocean was the epitome of warmth and excitement, delivered with a breathy passion inspired by his relatively soft “pipes”. Paul Harvey had a legendary voice. His influence on me was quite personal.
After years of carrying his morning news reports his power and warmth infected me. I met him one evening and after a brief conversation, he smiled, took my hand, and looked directly into my heart. “Keep that smile in your voice, young man”, he told me. I have never forgotten it.
During your daily radio routine, you will receive “help” from program managers whose jobs demand they try to improve your performance. That’s fair and reasonable. Embrace the effort and accept their enlightenment as long as it pertains to protocol and encourages you to make your own wise choices.
When Rush Limbaugh was in the process of becoming Rush Limbaugh, I was his program director at KFBK in Sacramento. I was also doing the morning show that preceded his 9 AM start. We were colleagues and friends. One day I took Rush to lunch and told him I was putting on my PD hat. Then I said, “I won’t tell you how to run your show. It’s your show. But – if you don’t find things to talk about besides national politics your career will go right down the toilet.”
(In my defense, this was 1987, a year before he was hired by WABC. In Sacramento, Rush was the very first local talk host anywhere to concentrate on national and world issues. 20 years later he thanked me for not insisting he change his act.)
We, your program directors and experienced colleagues, mean well and are only trying to help, but we will try to bend your mind and steal your words, the only tools of your trade. We’ll force you into boxes fashioned from our limited imaginations and conventional wisdom. Listen to what we say but process it through that quiet “voice” in your head that tells you who you are. Trust it. The first time you truly hear yourself, there’s no going back.
