IVANA IS IN A REFLEKTIVE MOOD

As a promotion person, there’s that moment when you first hear a song you’ve been waiting for, after listening to it over and over in the car, terrified of a leak that would have your watermarked name on it, but still anxious to play it for SOMEBODY—your 4-year-old, your kid’s nanny, your hairdresser, a peer—because you just KNOW that this is the song that will change somebody’s life (yours?). Then you have a meeting with a key tastemaker radio station, whose opinion could determine the course of this record’s future (and yours). The best response you can hope for is when the volume is formidable: feet are tapping, eyes are closed and email remains unchecked; conversation is impossible and the speaker’s subwoofer looks like it’s screaming for help. At the song’s completion, you can point out the various nuances and answer questions: why yes, that is David Bowie’s voice you hear on the song, and no, we haven’t played it for anybody else yet. We want to know what you think. Then faces are scanned until a verdict is reached. If the response is an affirmation of what your gut already believes, the person in charge of the stereo hits “play” again, even louder this time, and your eyes well up with relief and unmitigated joy. Everybody in the room is smiling this time, and further physical response seems appropriate: hugging, dancing, high-fives. Grand ideas are floated, more hugs are exchanged, and you leave feeling like you’re the best promotion person EVER. You’re beyond high on adrenaline (as opposed to your mid-’80s promo days), and can’t remember driving back to the office. Feeling invincible, you have your assistant pick up lunch for your coworkers (Sugarfish to go!) while you plot your national road trip. The response everywhere is equally emphatic, and although you know that the band’s vision for the rollout requires a major leap of faith from your radio friends, they know how important the band is and yes, the song is that good. And months later, on launch day, you’re in your car at 6pm, and it seems like every station on SiriusXM is playing that song you couldn’t play for anybody else. At 9pm, you’re back in your car, driving around the block, and you hear the song on KROQ, 98.7 and KCSN, punching back and forth between the stations because you can’t believe this is really happening… And then you wake up from your dream. Reality bares its sharp teeth, because you’ve found yourself in a market without an airport, back aching from the long drive. Pizza is ordered, beers are opened, and the mood is as jovial as fluorescent lighting will allow. The programming staff has assembled in the PD’s office. He hits “play” on his computer, only to adjust the volume until it’s barely audible. That’s how most people listen to the radio, he argues, swatting your hand away when you reach for the desktop speaker (the PD’s one concession to fidelity). Admonished, you sit back on the office couch—is it deliberately low to undermine whatever authority you thought you had? You feel Lilliputian, you say, finally putting your English lit minor to use. No reaction. From your vantage point, you can see furtive glances to the smartphone provided free to the staffers. After trying to hide his texting, the PD now boldly reads email from the same computer that is playing the song you were certain they would love. You add “facts,” made up on the spot, that you think will interest them—did you know that (band name) is (local sports hero’s) favorite and that he plays (band’s last hit) when he (is at bat, races NASCAR, climbs into the ring, hangs with strippers)? Oh, I think I heard that, says your only friend in the room. Just as you applaud yourself for steering the focus back to the music, the PD’s cell rings. He turns the volume down even further to take the call, until you can barely hear the vocals. His staff is now fully engaged—in social media. You’ve asked them not to tweet about the song you just played, to just revel in the knowledge that they’re among the first to hear it. Even your lone friend in the room gives you the side-eye. You ignore it and ask the PD his “thoughts” on the song. I don’t hear it for us, he says. YOU DIDN’T EVEN HEAR IT, you want to scream. Instead, you lay out the marketing plan and details of the launch, including major TV, press, retail, touring (did you see the video from their U.K. arena tour?), synchs, etc. Last time through, they sold over 8,000 tickets without airplay! The “heavy lifting” has been done for you! We should be talking about how we can “brand” this band with your station! They won’t be around at Xmas, but what about a trip to (insert upcoming U.S. three-day festival)? Once Xmas is off the table, the PD suddenly remembers an important meeting he has with his market manager, and you’re back in your subcompact rental, facing another long drive to the next market…