From Publishers Weekly
Journalist Foege (
Confusion Is Next) brings objectivity and insight to this exploration of Clear Channel, one of the most reviled media conglomerates in the U.S. The author aims for an unbiased understanding of the corporation and its practices, how it came to be and what it says about our culture. The reader follows the Clear Channel operation from its inception as a family business in the 1990s through commercial expansion, megamergers, vertical integration, antitrust lawsuits and the eventual sale of a third of its holdings. Foege cobbles together an oral history of the company, painting Clear Channel executives as businessmen first and foremost. To them, payola (accepting financial gifts in exchange for airplay) and voice tracking (phoning in local broadcasts from a centralized location) just made sense for the bottom line. The result has been the homogenization of radio—a phenomenon that has produced one, single, all-too-familiar classic rock station that Foege characterizes as a mild condition of being. Like a toothache or a strained knee. While many are quick to call this evil, media monopolies of this kind have been sanctioned by the government through deregulation. Foege's history is at its best while unpacking this confrontation of American values between art and commerce.
(Apr.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
For Ronald Reagan, the Soviet Union was “the evil empire,” but for music mavens, Clear Channel, the biggest radio-station owner in history, is the real deal. Its mastermind, Lyle Mays, made himself and his closest associates rich by gutting news, local content, and musical variety and laying off thousands at the stations it devoured. Mays’ golden-goose idea was that radio is essentially for advertising; programming is just, as another company higher-up put it, the “shit” between commercials. Besides 1,200 radio stations, the company sucked up billboards, TV outlets, and pop-concert venues and promoters (ticket prices soared). Nobody of consequence, certainly not the Clinton–Bush II FCC, seemed to object. Clear Channel’s glory days are gone because the Internet has made entertainment much more available and big advertising more avoidable, but its blighting effects on broadcasting continue. Mays and his two sons and successors wouldn’t talk to Foege, and this fascinating, appalling business history suffers accordingly, for the question of how the Mayses’ getting rich served the public interest—radio’s mandate, after all—goes begging. --Ray Olson
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