A day in the life of Brit FM, the Brit School's own radio station Jul 20th 2013, 05:00
This month, Peter Robinson pays a visit to Croydon to meet the next generation of radio DJs (probably)
"There was all sorts of grand talk about buzzers and hooters," announces Mr Preston, a Brit School teacher – and, for a couple of weeks each year, Brit FM's station manager – as he rummages in a box file. "But every year they never do." He produces a maraca and hands it to one of his students, who sprints down the corridor into one of the studios, where a live quiz is in urgent need of a sound effect. Mr Preston sighs an affectionately weary sigh.
I've joined Mr Preston – Jon, to non-students – at the Croydon-based performing arts behemoth on the eighth day of Brit FM's 12-day broadcast. The station's output is mostly speech, with a strong community angle, although music from Beyoncé and the Kinks is scattered throughout the chat, and right now a live session from Brit School music student Louis is being piped in from downstairs. The broadcasts vary wildly in quality. Some are great, while some are decidedly not so, but Jon says that simply showcasing a handful of each year's potential superstars (Brit FM has previously provided talent to Kiss FM and 1Xtra) isn't the point. "I'm not really here to train up two or three elite broadcasters," he says. "I'd rather engender 140 people with a love and respect for radio in the hope that, in some way, it feeds the radio industry and helps to keep it alive."
On his office wall there's a poster of one former Brit School student, Katy B, signed "Dear Mr Preston, Just touching base! Katy B x"; on the wall outside, there's a sign warning students that "pinch points" – moments when involvement in Brit FM might interfere with other aspects of their courses – should be flagged up early. "I'd say I had a reasonably frank exchange of views with my head of department on Friday about this, but ultimately it's about giving the students the best experience we can," Jon says, "so we just have to deal with it. I'm not pulling them out of English, we just have to make sure it's choreographed." Yes, time management at the Brit School is equated to dance routines. Of course it is.
I meet one chap, Kyle Craig, who's just finished Year 13 and is back to produce the Brit FM breakfast show, look after the R&B show and assist on the arts show. Outside the school, he's already something of a superstar: he's got a fashion design business, is heavily involved in the popular online series Mandem On The Wall (as well as its iPhone spin-off app), and owns what he initially describes as "different products", one of which turns out to be a recently launched line of electronic shisha sticks. Kyle gives me a tour of the school, where I see a poster for something called Skaship Troopers, a six-foot polystyrene Brit award, and a pinboard notice from the BBC inviting students to apply for season three of The Voice, along with boring proper things like actual classrooms. I notice some particularly cheering proof that disregarding celebrity alumni like Leona Lewis, Amy Winehouse and Joel from Athlete, the Brit School is, in some ways, a school like any other: the plaque outside the door which once read "Photography Room" has been scratchily defaced with what I assume must have been that old schoolroom standby, of a pair of compasses, and now reads "Pornography Room".
On the way back up to Brit FM's first floor studio, I also notice a display cabinet showcasing posters and flyers from each of Brit FM's previous 12 broadcasts. Dotted around are phrases such as Standard, Trust, Doing It, Gully, Classic, Bonafide and No Doubt. Each year the station's slogan changes, Kylie explains, pointing at the first: "The better listen ... Believe." What does that mean? "It means that it's the better station to listen to and that you'd better believe that," Kyle says. "Extra Grimey, that means it's raw," he continues. I know that, I say. "Get Busy, that means get stuck in." Yes, I know that as well. He points to the bottom one. "Know That!" he says. "Well, you know that."
As my time at Brit FM draws to a close, I head over to one of the Media Studies classrooms. Little Miss Sunshine and Ocean's Twelve posters line the walls, along with a whiteboard containing marketing plans for a fake chocolate bar. Jon has gathered about 40 students, all involved in Brit FM, for a pep talk. He's talking about "this maelstrom of crazy live radio", and how those pesky pinch points must be negotiated. "I've had my last row with Mr Packer about this," he warns. "Here's the kicker – if it don't work, next year's Year 12s will not get to do Brit FM." It's not quite "fame costs and right here is where you start paying", but it does the job for this room. As for listening figures – well, online stats show there have already been hundreds of listeners from around the world, including the US State Department.
"I wonder if Barack Obama's girls have been listening?" Jon muses to a room of fairly sceptical faces. "Well, stranger things have happened!" This is a place where strange things do happen, and I'm not just talking about Joel from Athlete. The vibe at the Brit School today doesn't quite live up to the impromptu-conga-through-the-canteen atmosphere I was hoping for – most of the students are out on work placements at this time of year – but an unusually high proportion of the students on Brit FM seem to be on the verge of something big. At the very least, they're better placed than most to achieve it.
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