Steve Wright, who has died aged 69, helped to redefine the role of a disc jockey when he established his BBC Radio 1 afternoon show in the 1980s. To the usual formula of linking almost back-to-back music, he added gossip, trivia, guests from the world of entertainment such as Paul McCartney and Warren Beatty, and a general feeling of chaos that became known as the “zoo” format. It made him the most popular UK radio presenter of the era, with audiences of more than eight million.
“The show’s a little bit of everything you fancy,” he said. “I invented the format myself. It’s a tabloid newspaper of the airwaves – fast, fun and packed with info. Something for everyone.”
Some of the regular “guests” or “listeners” phoning in – including Mr Angry, Gervaise the hairdresser and Damian the social worker – were fictional spoof characters voiced by actors, while Phil Cornwell, whom Wright described as “a crazed, inspired genius”, provided impersonations of David Bowie, John Lennon, Robert De Niro, the Rolling Stones and others. Cornwell’s interactions with the DJ were improvised. A compulsive collector of information, Wright was particularly fond of the “factoids” and bizarre true stories he dug up to entertain his listeners.
Alongside the showbiz guests, Wright was also trusted by politicians, although things did not always go well. On one occasion he was waiting in the prime minister’s study at 10 Downing Street, preparing to conduct an interview with John Major, when he spotted two paracetamol tablets on a table. As he was suffering from a headache himself, he popped them into his mouth.
“When Mr Major walked in, I think he spotted the empty packets – because there was an immediate atmosphere,” recalled Wright. “He wouldn’t really loosen up. I asked him what clothes he liked to wear and he said, ‘Er, um, casual.’ I asked what sort of casual, but he wouldn’t be drawn.” However, Wright did elicit the revelation that the prime minister’s favourite record was the Marty Robbins western ballad El Paso. “A very strange song indeed,” observed the DJ.
Wright first took to the Radio 1 airwaves with a Saturday evening show in 1980 and, within weeks, was presenting Top of the Pops on BBC television. Then, he hosted the Saturday mid-morning show before switching to his long-running post-lunch weekday slot in a programme eventually titled Steve Wright in the Afternoon (1981-93).
At the beginning of 1994 he moved to the flagship Radio 1 breakfast show, titled Steve Wright in the Morning, in a bid by the BBC to halt declining ratings. He added 250,000 listeners within four months and kept a steady audience of seven million while audiences for other shows plummeted. Nevertheless, Wright walked out on his £165,0000-a-year job in 1995 – following differences with Matthew Bannister, the recently appointed controller of Radio 1 – and joined Talk Radio for an unhappy few months.
He was back at the BBC in 1996, switching to Radio 2 to present a Saturday show and launch Steve Wright’s Sunday Love Songs, a mix of classic songs, dedications and real-life romance stories, before returning to familiar territory in 1999 with Steve Wright in the Afternoon. When his departure from the afternoon slot was announced in 2022, he handed over typically graciously, saying “Now, I’ve been doing this programme for 24 years at Radio 2, and so how can I possibly complain? Really, I can’t hog the slot for ever, so let’s give somebody else a go.”
Wright was born in Greenwich, south-east London, and brought up in New Cross, the son of Richard Wright, who managed a Burton’s menswear store, and his wife, June (nee Saunders). Following the family’s move to Southend-on-Sea, Essex, Steve attended Eastwood high school, where he broadcast on school radio over a speaker system from the stock cupboard.
Leaving with three O-levels, he went through jobs as a shipping insurance company clerk, telephone engineer and backstage theatre worker, as well as running his own jingles business. He also had an unsuccessful stint singing on the club circuit, and worked in hospital radio in his spare time.
Joining the BBC in the early 70s, he spent three years working in its pop record library, digging out vinyl discs for DJs to play, followed by a period as a researcher in radio. He left in 1975 to host a show on Radio Atlantis in Belgium, then worked as a reporter and presenter on LBC in London.
In 1976, he moved to the newly launched commercial station Radio 210 in Reading, making promotional trailers and jingles before hosting his own show – he and a fellow 210 DJ, Mike Read, also contributed a pop column to the local newspaper, the Reading Chronicle. Wright switched to Radio Luxembourg three years later and returned to the BBC in 1980.
Radio fame brought Wright television appearances not just on Top of the Pops (1980-89), but also as a panellist on gameshows such as Blankety Blank (1987-89) and That’s Showbusiness (1990-93). He then became the presenter of Home Truths (1994), with celebrities answering general knowledge questions and revealing skeletons in their closet, and Steve Wright’s People Show (1994-95), featuring celebrity guests. From 1997 until 2009, he narrated the Top of the Pops archive footage programme TOTP2.
On radio, Wright’s other shows included Wright Around the World for the BBC World Service (1999-2003) and Radio 2’s Pick of the Pops (2022-24), and he continued to present Sunday Love Songs until his death.
He was appointed MBE in this year’s new year honours list.
In 1985, Wright married Cyndi Robinson; they divorced in 1999. He is survived by their children, Tom and Lucy, his father and his brother, Laurence.
🔔 Steve (Stephen Richard) Wright, radio and television presenter, born 26 August 1954; died 12 February 2024
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Steve Wright
A brief tribute to Steve Wright, who spent a lot of time in the radio studio.
Sometimes with famous people, like Diane Oxberry and Paul McCartney.
Often in the ears of millions of people. By being there for year after year after year, Steve was a constant in people's lives, and we loved him for it.
There weren't many game shows in his career, and Home Truths was thinner than tissues but still made a pleasant half-hour.
Plus! Which television show had more viewers than The Super Bowl? And what happens when Mastermind finishes in a four-way tie?
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'Uh, To Steve Wright … Burn In Hell - FOREVER!' (Hang The DJ! Hang The DJ! Hang The DJ!)
Every Toy Dolls fan in the world has long waited for this day.
We don't forgive, and we don't forget.
Steve Wright was an atypical ultra-prick who believed if you weren't wearing the latest fashions and poodle haircuts you shouldn't be even allowed outside. Toadying to rich 'artists' and rich record labels, whilst using his platform on BBC Radio One (paid for by the general public via taxation) to sneer at every independent act on the block.
Lampooned by Viz Comic in Steve Wright and His Sycophantic Shite, the band The Smiths even tore the f**ker a new one on one of their biggest hits 'Panic!' when he started having a good at them largely because Steve Wright thought Morrissey was gay (a frequent running theme of this odious creep on his radio shows and TV appearences - at least until gay bashing because very 'uncool' upon the death of Freddie Mercury from AIDS).
What seemed to particularly annoy Wright and the rest of the London ivory tower set in the so-called 'affluent eighties' was acts daring to talk about like outside of tinseltown London. The world he wished would just go away - unless it was to clean his house or sell him a burger.
Much of the rest of the country, especially north of the Watford Gap, lived in poverty and squalor - the world bands like the Smiths and the Toy Dolls came from, and each in their own way sang about.
People like the Toy Dolls' 'Dougy Giro', about a young homeless man from Hendon, like so many in the north east at that time (and little has changed).
'You can't guess what life for Dougy
is like, he wakes up in the street,
No home, no bed, he says he's lucky
That he can smile and be happy ...'
Wright's ire towards the Toy Dolls was due to their surprise Christmas 1984 double A-Side hit 'Nellie The Elephant' and especially 'Fisticuffs In Frederick Street' which lampooned Newcastle's Fosters Club - an atypical 'Meat Market' where youngsters on minimum wage wearing clothes they'd gone heavily into credit card debt for drunk overpriced 'designer' beers and cocktails because glossy magazines and celeb culture lied to them this is what they needed to do to become 'successful in life'
(Needless to say it didn't, and most who bought into that crap wound up broke and broken by their thirties).
'Fosters Club was full up to the brim.
Everybody risking life and limb
and just to go and pose at the disco
but posing wasn't easy. and the D.J.
he got queasy, blow by blow...'
The sort of lifestyle talentless pricks like Wright on fat BBC contracts cheerfully promoted as 'aspirational'.
Suffice to say, violence outside these clubs became increasingly prevailent from a heady combination of alcohol mixed with dreams vaporising in the cold realities of a nation where selfishness and shallowness had become increasingly prevailant.
Little wonder Morrissey retorted to Wright in 'Panic.'
'Burn down the disco,
Hang the blessed DJ!
Because the music that they constantly play,
It says nothing to me about my life.
Hang the blessed DJ!
Because the music they constantly play ...
On the Leeds side streets that you slip down,
Provincial towns you jog 'round,
"Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ!" '
And now this sevile sycophant, awash in his own self pity, has croaked it on the eve of the Toy Dolls latest world tour - bloody marvellous timing!
Good riddance, you sycophantic shite!
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