Why not? It’s a phrase that Lorna Clarke has used many times over her career – sometimes silently to herself, as a pep talk; sometimes out loud, to others, as a challenge .
Because make no mistake, this is not a may-as-well why not. There is no accompanying shrug. This is more of a why the hell not – with accompanying steely-eyed glare.
You can’t do that. Why not? You won’t get that job. Why not?
It’s a question and attitude that has seen Clarke go from a trainee news reporter job in Cornwall – a long way (in so many ways) from her North West London childhood home – to award-winning Programme Director at KISS when the station was at the height of its powers and influence, and then to the BBC where she is now Director of Music.
She has launched and/or is responsible for the corporation’s flagship music stations, TV shows and events, covering everything from Radio 3 and The Proms to 1Xtra and Glastonbury.
Here, she takes us through that journey, starting, of course, with a passion for music…
What was the music that soundtracked your teenage years?
I was absolutely passionate about music. Music was where I felt I could be me. It had everything for me. It had fashion, style, stories. It brought you to foreign places. It took me to places I should never even have dreamt of.
I had no idea you could make a living from it though, unless you were a performer, and I definitely wasn’t going to be a performer.
Back then, I wasn’t really listening to radio. The music that I needed to hear was not on the radio. Well, it was on pirate radio, but I really didn’t have the patience always to be hanging out of a window!
But my dad had this amazing record collection. It had everything, from Percy Sledge, Millie Jackson and Miles Davis to The Beatles, The Stones and Cream. He’s just had everything in there. We were encouraged to basically be true to yourself, and that you can do anything and listen to everything.
There’s that thing that Black people just like Black music, right?
Oh, it drives me nuts. That’s always the standard line and it’s so lazy, such a stereotype. Plus, Black music comes in as the base for most, if not all, genres.
Generally, I was always just out clubbing or going to gigs. The music we were listening to was broad, and we didn’t really categorise it. If it was good, it was good.
Of course you did end up making a career in music eventually, so how did you join those dots and realise it was possible?
Well, there was a weird period when I did an arts foundation course, Kilburn Polytechnic, it was quite hip and wild.
I somehow got pulled into a punk band for about a day. Nobody knows that! They called themselves The UB40s [laughs]. That wasn’t for me.
At the same time I was meeting really interesting people, people who worked for The Face. In fact at one party I was introduced to the editor of The Face, Sheryl Garratt.
She’s really no-nonsense, very straightforward. And she said, ‘Do you think you’re good?’ No one had asked me that before, but her point was: if you don’t know, how are you going to persuade people to give you a job? You need to know you’re good, know what you’re good at specifically, and why – what makes you good? That has stuck with me literally for about 35 years.
I remember thinking, right, you need to figure out what you’re good at and then go and get qualified.
I started writing for City Limits, mainly so I could go to gigs and review them, and at the same time I was doing my sociology degree part time in the evenings.
Then I decided I wanted to do news journalism, so I did a BBC diploma, and that’s when I decided I wanted to be in radio.
Tell me about your time down in Cornwall in 1985 as a news reporter.
Yep, nobody looked like me there. I remember once I was doing a vox pop and there was this elderly local guy, who was happy to be interviewed. But when I started asking him questions, he was just staring at me. And then he just went, ‘I have to touch your hair’. And he did!
How did you react?
I said, ‘That’s kind of invading my space. I know you mean well, but it’s kind of weird.’
He didn’t really get it. He was like, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, but it’s so nice’. It was a moment born out of pure ignorance.
Later on, I did a stint in Hull at a commercial radio station and I asked them to set up some digs for me while I got myself settled.
I get up there, find the address, it’s a big boarding house by the docks – basic, cheap, but fine, I don’t have much money anyway.
The first night, I’m in bed and I hear high heels running down the corridor and men going up and down the corridor, lots of giggling.
Of course it was a brothel. They thought it was really funny to book the young girl from London in there.
The next day I went into the newsroom and I was determined to act like it’s not a big deal, even though it had properly shaken me up and I’d had to wedge the chair under the handle of the door.
So, we did the news meeting, and then it was time for the big laugh at my expense. ‘How was last night, Lorna?’ ‘The journey? Yeah, very smooth, no problem’. ‘No, how were your digs?’ ‘Yeah, great, thanks so much for finding them for me’.
“My career is based on that – a hard-headed ‘What do you mean I can’t do it?’ approach.”
I just locked that out because I’m not having them make me the angry young woman in the corner. I’m not having it.
I just wanted to do really good work. And I think my career is based on that – a proper hard-headed, ‘What do you mean I can’t do it?’ approach.
I’ve also had some great allies, people who they knew more about what I could do than I did. And because I had that attitude of ‘Why not me?’, once they opened the door a little bit, I would just kick it in and go for it.
Moving on to KISS was a massive thing. Tell us about that.
It was the most exciting place to be. It became the centre of so many people’s careers, because it was doing something really different, it was like a brave new world.
Basically, if you could do it, you just did it. But the stakes were high, because if you failed, you failed. If you did something and it didn’t work, you were out.
But it was amazing, especially at that time. It represented a culture that was not represented anywhere else.
What was it like for you, going from news and quite corporate situations, to a room full of mavericks trying to shake up the world?
Again, you see, it was that whole thing of, why not? I thought I could make a difference. In fact I knew I could.
People learned fast there and we did some incredible things, partly because we were naive, but also because, yeah, why not?
Your journey from there is incredible because you become Programme Director, and from there you win Programme Director of the Year at the Commercial Radio Network Awards.
Yeah, which was lovely because it was all about the job. Out of all the Programme Directors in the UK, in commercial radio – and there were a lot – I think I was one of only two women.
It was also, of course, because I was working on, at the time, the coolest station in the country. It was especially satisfying because all the really big stations, Capital etc, even Radio 1, they were all saying it won’t last, It’s too amateur: still there.
I remember a journalist wrote a really lovely piece in Billboard magazine after the event, and he put in the first paragraph, ‘The UK’s first Black female winner of the Programme Director of the Year Award’.
He saw me later, and apologised. He thought he’d completely downscaled the achievement and that he would never have added details like that for any other winner. He thought it would have been more powerful if he’d just said: ‘Lorna Clarke won Programme Director of the Year’.
I agreed, but I also told him I understood. I knew that his eyes had popped out of his head because he couldn’t believe I’d beaten all these guys.
So, yes, sometimes it is annoying, but I’m used to breaking ground which sounds properly big-headed…
No, it’s not at all. And things only go up from there. You leave KISS for the BBC in 1997, becoming Head of Mainstream Programmes. In 2003 you get upscaled again and you’re working across factual TV, sport and journalism, children’s TV and music. So you are a trailblazer, you are very much out there on your own, scaling those heights. How did that feel for you at the time?
Well, whether I like it or not, I have the responsibility of young journalists, young music makers and young presenters all asking the same question: how did you get here?
And I really enjoy saying, I am not mystical. I’m not Superwoman. I really am not. My background is humble, it’s a background that many of them would recognise. I’m not a nepo baby and nobody held the door open for me. I say that so that they realise that, if they can grow their talent, then they can do it.
I’m properly inspired by the next generation. I have met some amazing people. They have way more confidence than me, they’ve got real nous, they can do the politics and they can do the charm.
‘‘I enjoy saying, I am not mystical. I’m not Superwoman. I really am not.”
I used to struggle with all that. Walking into a room and being entertaining, that’s hard work! It’s not easy for me. I’m not the sort of person who can work the industry. And I certainly don’t enjoy talking about myself.
However, and this is where I contradict myself, part of the reason for saying yes to this is because I want to be visible to people that might find it useful.
When I was coming through, there wasn’t really anyone. I couldn’t find people I could have a conversation with. And I would say the thing that I’m actively doing now, even if I’m not very good at it, is reaching out to other professionals, mainly women, and just growing that network.
When you’re there, or on your way there, you can choose to work, work, work all the time and not enjoy it. And I think that’s what I did.
I enjoy it now. But I would say for many years, it was just really hard work. It was just slogging away and trying to do the right thing. And there’s got to be more balance than that. You know, there’s got to be more to it.
It’s like, I now am responsible for the six national radio stations. That includes Radio 3, a classical music station. I don’t come from a classical music background, but I love it!
And so if I sit here and look backwards, there’s news journalism, there’s KISS, there’s Radio 1, 1Xtra, 6 Music, Radio 3, The Proms, One Big Weekend, Piano Room…
I mean, the amount of events in my portfolio, that’s just a beautiful thing; I love it. It fills me with joy just thinking about the fact that my team will be entertaining, every single week, over 22 million people.
Then you add in music television, with things like Later… It’s just joyous.
And you know what, I don’t really ask myself how I got here anymore. I got here through hard work, through some allies giving me a break and then me making it work.
Also, I’ll say this for anyone who needs to hear it, that thing about being kind to the people on the way up because you will see them on the way down: so true.
There are so many people that I manage now who used to be my manager. And if my relationship wasn’t good, it wouldn’t work – but it does.
I want to go back to those young people you talked about, who navigate those social situations, those networking opportunities, and feel comfortable in those surroundings in a way that maybe both you and I didn’t when we first started. And I’ll put it to you that the reason why they feel that way is because you opened the door and warmed the room up for them, you made it more natural for them to see faces that look like us.
Look, I am such a softie, right? When I see people doing amazing things and winning… I cried at the Olympics! There’s this amazing judo guy, Teddy (Riner), oh my God I love him.
He’s built this team, and when he won Gold and you saw them, mainly women and men of colour, hugging each other, because they did it and they knew what it had taken, it makes me cry because I know what that feels like.
I mean, I’m not an Olympian, but I know what it feels like where you kind of go against the odds. Can we do it? Yeah! And then you do it, and you amaze people; it’s brilliant. It’s like when I got the job for the Electric Proms, it was so funny how many people kept saying, ‘Were you just given that job?’
What do you mean?! No, I applied for it. And on that panel was the Director of Radio, the Controller of Radio 1, the Controller of Radio 2, the Director of Daytime Television, the controller of BBC 2 – oh, and Alan Yentob.
So no, I wasn’t ‘given it’! But that’s how I am: if someone says that’s not for you, I always say, ‘Why not?’
So if young people, especially young women, ask me how I got here, I tell them. Because, like I say, I want them to know that it’s not some kind of magic.
I also tell them that being the Director of Music at the BBC is not about being famous or getting loads of likes; I don’t have any of that and I don’t worry about my profile.
I say to them, It’s really about doing a great job. The best you can achieve is being remembered for doing a great job.
Let’s go back to that Sheryl Garratt question: do you know what you’re good at now?
I’m really good at honesty. That means I can say to someone, ‘This piece that you’ve done is really good, but…’ And they will take that in a good way.
I am great at feedback. I can analyse and boil it down to the simplest form. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to get people to agree with me all the time, it’s not about that, but I’m good at taking people with me.
I’m definitely good at building teams, because I recognise that it’s never about one person being so amazing that they can do everything. It doesn’t work like that.
I have a good ear. I can tell quite quickly whether something is a good story or not and just cut to the chase to save people’s time. I like to fail fast and move on.
There’s nothing wrong with failing, it’s fine, but don’t agonize and try and polish a turd – because a turd is a turd is a turd, stop polishing it!
Finally, it’s been an incredible career so far, you’ve achieved so much and you’re integral to the BBC’s music coverage, so what do you think might be next for you?
I don’t know! I’m really loving it at the moment. I heard this week that Myles Smith, this young musician that was discovered by BBC Introducing, has been picked by Obama for his end-of-year music list.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be in another position where I lead a team that can make that kind of impact. A kid from Bedford ends up being noticed by the former President of the USA. That just blows my mind.
And then I think of the people that I’ve persuaded to do shows for us. I think of the power we have around Glastonbury, the power we have through our radio stations.
So when you ask about what’s next, and there will be a what’s next, I just don’t know at the moment. I’m 62, but I feel 22. I’m not one of these people
who stays in a job and moans, that won’t be me. I’ll just get out and give someone else a turn.
So, while I feel I’m effective, and while people around me feel I’m effective, and while I’m enjoying it, I’ll stick with it.
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