I’ve avoided early mornings for a good five months now, but as summer draws to an end it’s back to university for me. Like most nocturnal lazy students, you’ll be lucky if an earthquake wakes me up, but recently I’ve found there’s no alarm clock better than Fearne Cotton’s Radio 1 show. (Yes, I realise her show starts at 10am – that’s still early for me, okay?)
If you want me leaping out of bed on time, all you need do is submit me to the incohesive babblings of a ditzy try-hard. Her taste in music has a shocking resemblance to that of a 12-year old girl who’s unsure if she’s going to grow up to be a mosher, a raver or a pop princess. The only problem is you’re stuck in that car journey with her for two hours and, worst of all, her mother is encouraging her ‘creativity’ by telling her what buttons to press and what things to say.
And all this begs an important question – a question I’m sure has echoed silently in the hearts and minds of my generation this past decade: who actually really cares what Fearne Cotton has to say? Let alone trusts her taste in music. I mean, I remember being eight years old and not caring about her on CiTV, and I still don’t care about her now.
I mean seriously, ask yourself this, have you ever met anyone who has expressed an avid appreciation of Fearne Cotton? And if yes, would you ever really trust that person’s music recommendations ever again? I’m 98% sure that most of you said ‘no’ to both those questions. So who’s encouraging her?
Maybe it’s Radio 1 and their desperate need to appeal to the younger generations. Their line-up changes, over the past few years, have all been met with animosity, shafting Chris Moyles for Nick Grimshaw, Edith Bowman for Greg James and Jo Wiley for Miss Cotton. To be fair, if the unseen face of Radio 1 for 15-years is a pasty self-proclaimed ‘funny-man’ who is prone to dad-dancing, then you’re not going to win the hearts of teen listeners.
And for the most part, it seems Radio 1 has made the right calls in attracting youth to its airwaves, installing personalities such as Matt Edmondson, Jameela Jamil and YouTube’s Dan and Phil; all edgy in their own right, all in touch with different aspects of youth culture and all capable of an entertaining rhetoric. All this cannot be said about Fearne Cotton.
Perhaps it’s the music industry’s fault, for slowly digressing into a pit of bland, formula-churned sounds that demand an equally bland personality to make sense of it. After all, most Radio 1 DJs have to abide by the ‘Radio 1 A List,’ a selection of songs decided by the BBC, considered to be the best or hottest songs at the moment, so Fearne’s not really to blame for her awful taste in music, because it’s already been decided for her. I bet she’s fought her corner to play the latest Die Antwoord, The Knife or Five Finger Death Punch track, but that goddamn BBC Radio 1 regulator keeps turning her down.
Or it could be that, along with journalists, estate agents and bankers, TV and Radio presenters are simply reviled by the general public and treated with an air of suspicion. There’s something about how happy they are all the time, a forced friendliness that screams, “I’M YOUR FRIEND,” when you know their lives are completely different to yours. In fact, they have the life you think you want, and here they are, pretending to be your friend, trying to lure you into their cause and convince you they’re right.
Poor Fearne Cotton – the victim of my morning scorn – it’s not her fault after all! I’m sure she’s actually a really lovely woman too. But after all this careful consideration, I’m still sure of one thing: there’s nothing in life more vapid and soulless than Fearne Cotton’s Radio 1 show.