In 2013, I went through a painful break-up. No, I’m not talking about divorcing my ex-wife or having my heart broken by Special Lady Friend. This separation was with someone who had been in my ear for the better part of 25 years. When I traded in my Sirius-equipped Honda for a not-Sirius-equipped Toyota, for the first time since I was 18, Howard Stern was no longer a part of my everyday life.
I started listening to Howard on WYSP in 1988 when I was a college student in the Philadelphia-area, continued on WJFK when I returned to D.C. after graduation, and back to YSP when I moved to New Jersey in the early 2000s. He, Robin, Fred, Gary, Jackie, Artie, Stuttering John, and the rest of the crew were as much family as my own flesh and blood.
Like a lot of long-term relationships, this one had plenty of good times, especially when Howard moved to Sirius in 2006. I would listen before work then leave for lunch just as the West Coast feed picked up where the live feed ended. I would listen on the weekends, on road trips, and when I was out running errands. I posted regularly on the Stern Fan Network and rose and fell with every shenanigan and antic the gang got into.
But as the years wore on, I became disaffected. Some of it had to do with Artie’s decline and departure, some of it with the direction the show took after he left, and some of it was with what I perceived to be Howard’s own boredom. As I noted in a 2012 blog post, the show was losing its way, relying on canned fights, constant rehashing of topics, too few guests, and Howard’s endless shilling for America’s Got Talent. So, when it came time to get a new car, I was ready to move on.
Like losing any close friend (or family member), it took a while to adjust. I pretty much quit cold turkey, no longer posted on SFN, stopped reading MarksFriggin.com, and unfollowed show members on Twitter. I found other outlets, be it public radio, podcasts, or my iTunes library. Eventually, I moved on. But last summer, I was in a bad car accident. My Toyota was totaled and while I was shopping for a new car, I had a loaner equipped with Sirius. I decided to check in with my old pal Howard. I am glad I did. To be sure, there have been some cosmetic changes, but the show itself, and Howard in particular, sounded great. Catching up on the show felt easy and comfortable. I so enjoyed the experience, I decided to buy a car that had Sirius, and I am very happy I did. While the show is not at the level it was in any of its heydays, it is focused, compelling, and enormously entertaining.
The first thing I noticed was a lightness in Howard’s voice. While he can still go off on a righteous rant, it seems as if Howard has made peace with much of once made him a tortured man. He no longer feels the need to defend his truncated schedule, lengthy vacations or his marriage (although he did blow a fuse over a recent story claiming it was on the rocks based on an off-hand remark he made on air). He has outlasted many of the villains who long-animated his anger - Imus and Leno have retired; Les Moonves resigned in shame (a fact Howard took particular glee in mocking); and SiriusXM survived its near-death bankruptcy to become an established player in the media world. In short, Howard won. He outlasted his enemies and proved them all wrong. He now sits on a mountain of money, professional acclaim, and contentment that he fought his entire career to obtain.
And perhaps it is because of this that where once Howard fancied himself a circus ringleader, he now operates more like a pater familias, presiding over a sometimes unruly clan without the need to constantly be the center of attention. Jason Kaplan reigns as the master of tossing people under the bus. JD fumbles for words even as he has evolved from a mush mouth to a married man and wine connoiser. Ronnie has refined his Dirty Grandpa shtick to the point I laugh more than cringe, and while Gary remains an obvious target for ridicule and Howard’s “boff” impression remains laugh-out-loud funny, much of the sting is gone, replaced with affection. Gary has been with Howard for more than 30 years and the material he has helped produce now fuels a new generation of inside jokes like the hashtag “top noine” moments from the week’s shows.
And Howard has not shied away from extending the family outward. Callers like Bobo and Marianne From Brooklyn are more deeply woven into the show’s tapestry; one wonders whether they are on salary. And nowhere is Howard’s openness toward using talent wherever he can find it on display more than the greater use of the savant Sour Shoes, whose impressions, deep show knowledge, and unique sense of comedic timing has left me crying with laughter many times.
But beyond the incorporation of new staff members (Brent, Memet) and the deepening of the audience’s bond with others (once 20somethings like Will are now parents, as is Richard Christie), Howard continues to flex his muscles as an unparalleled interviewer. For as much as Howard loves to talk, one of his under appreciated skills is how much he listens. A recent interview with Peter Frampton contained an extended discussion of Frampton’s relationship with David Bowie and his experience playing with titans of the music industry on George Harrison’s seminal work This Too Shall Pass. The satellite format provides ample time for conversational space, so a recent interview with Hugh Jackman revealed the fact that he and Howard had spent time hanging out socially, opening a whole different window into the lives of each, while Sarah Silverman gave a raw interview that made headlines because of her comments about the disgraced comedian Louis C.K.
It may be that I left Howard in a transitional phase. Like Neil Young (one of Howard’s favorite musicians), the Stern Show is ever-evolving. Given time, he figured out what the next chapter in the show’s history would be. The one thing Howard’s critics always missed was his intuitive understanding for radio as a medium—as “theater of the mind”—Howard perfected a talent that was aptly captured in his movie Private Parts. People who like him listen for a long time, but people who do not like him listen even longer, the reason being the same—they want to hear what he will say next. Howard is a dexterous talker who can stretch, vamp, be controversial, or conversational depending on what the situation requires and his sharing of personal aspects of his life leaven him just enough that you forget it is a fictionalized, or at least, shaded version of the truth. With less to prove, there is more for Howard to share, be it his passion for art (initially photography, now painting) or his later-in-life conversation to animal rescue (thanks to his wife Beth).
To be sure, the show retains some of its familiar parts. The phony phone calls, the staff fights, the Wack Pack, and the gimmicky segments that feel like nothing more than product development for the Sirius App (one thing that has not changed is the grab for more of your money - first it was Howard TV, now it’s the Sirius App). Even so, some things are different. Certain words like faggot and retard have rightly been excised from the show’s lexicon, the programming has been streamlined (Bubba and Ferrell are long gone, the side projects like Geek Time have been largely jettisoned (sadly, Ralph is still around), Howard 101 basically exists as a channel for the show’s more than four decades of archived material), and the show now starts at 7 a.m. (and thankfully, without Benjy in the studio).
One thing that has not changed is the beating heart of the show - the interplay between Howard, Fred, and Robin. The trio has broadcast together for nearly 40 years (Stern and Norris go back even further) and the effortlessness of their conversation is truly comfort food for the soul. Whether it is Howard doing an Elvis meets Nixon riff or offhandedly mentioning he once knew a guy who left a good job to go “punch up scripts in Hollywood” (a deep cut reference to long-departed Jackie “the Joke Man” Martling’s alleged reason for leaving the show) listening to Howard and Robin just talk to each other is radio gold, whether it is during her news segments or when Howard brings up a topic to discuss, she is the first among equals - the one person who will immediately call him on his bullshit and also defend herself when old scabs like her ordering of an $800 bottle of wine get picked. Fred remains the steady bass line, his on-air voice spoken through the drops he slips into Robin’s news stories or Howard’s riffs, showing his own touch-feel for the comedic vibe Howard is going for at any given time. It is like listening to a band so tight and so in sync, they know the notes each will play beforehand. It is a marvel to behold.
As for me, because I am not listening with the same level of obsessive attention I once did, I can enjoy the show without being as hyper-critical of it as I once was. To extend the relationship metaphor a bit further, I know the flaws, but they are far outweighed by the pleasure I get from hearing Howard and the crew do their thing.
How long this will continue is an open question. Howard’s contract runs through the end of 2020 and he openly muses about retirement. If he does, no one can begrudge him that right. He has created a body of work that is unparalleled in the industry, his influence now reaching a generation of broadcasters that were not even alive when he first rose to prominence. His legacy will live on through the hundreds of thousands of hours of content he has produced. My own sense is he will sign a final contract, perhaps of a shorter duration, take his well-earned victory lap, and then ride off into the sunset. I will be with him every step of the way.
Follow me on Twitter - @scarylawyerguy
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