Steve Hochman's Eulogy for Deirdre O'Donoghue

Imagine growing up in a world where everyone seems to speak a different language than you do--or at least a different dialect. From your first memories, you were never able to really understand what anyone was saying, and they certainly didn’t understand you. You were never really sure if there was something wrong with you, or something wrong with everyone else. 

Then one day, out of the blue, you hear someone speaking in YOUR language--you understand every word and the speaker seems to be expressing your every emotion, your own inner soul.

That was what it was like the first time I heard Deirdre on KCRW on what I believe was her very first appearance on the station. She played Eno, for God’s sake! And she opened new doors to places only imagined, but never before seen or heard. And it felt as if she was doing this just for me.

That was four years before I met her. When I did meet her, I was a new kid at the Times and she was one of my first feature story subjects. I’d pitched the story on the premise of her having the unusual double duty of playing Eno and Rollins and LaMonte Young on KCRW and Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen, and, of course, the Beatles, at “The Mighty Met,” KMET.

But it was the world of the former that I really wanted to explore with her. Soon she was not just transmitting to me on the radio, but calling me with tips on new artists, can’t-miss shows...basically playing Virgil to my eager Dante in the music world.

It’s amazing when I look back to those years at the number of artists Deirdre introduced who touched my life--many of whom you may never have heard, but none whom I am embarrassed to name now: Robyn Hitchcock, Hugo Largo, Martin Stephenson, That Petrol Emotion, the Woodentops, the Housemartins, the Dancing Hoods, House of Freaks, Terence Trent D’Arby, Poi Dog Pondering...

OK, some of those are pretty obscure, but obscurity wasn’t the idea, just a sometimes-result of a wholehearted passion for searching out artistry and distinction with no limiting criteria. That worked on both ends of the scale. She had no snobbery about popular and successful acts. “Good,” to Deirdre, was simply good.

And even with the more familiar acts she played—R.E.M. or U2, for example—she found ways to give them fresh spins and perspectives, a talent that, as the years went by, made “Breakfast With The Beatles” more than a mere nostalgia exercise.

Of course, I learned quickly that she was not my personal Virgil. She served that role for many out there. But she also served a larger role. Radio may be a one-on-one medium, but music at its best is community, and few believed more in that community than she did. Remember--she wasn’t getting paid at KCRW, she did this out of love. And she wasn’t just a DJ. She was a tour guide, ambassador, and cheerleader.

In that first story I wrote in 1985, Deirdre described her role as thus, “You know those Western movies, when they send out a scout to see what lies ahead? That’s what SNAP feels like to me. If I’m promoting anything, it’s an openness to a variety of music.”

But she didn’t just introduce sounds, she introduced people, fellow travelers, some of whom remain among my closest friends.

One of them, musician Steve Wynn, had this to say in a lovely posting on the message board that Tricia (Halloran, KCRW DJ and Deirdre's protege - BW) set up for people to share their thoughts:

“In her world and on her show, the most obscure band with the right ideals was as worthy of praise and support as the very Beatles whose music she played on the weekends. Even at the inevitable lowest points when I felt my music meant nothing and was reaching nobody, she would provide a forum where its very existence meant everything and could reach anyone.”

Talking about being on two stations, Deirdre told me back then, “There’s a compact with an audience, a bond that builds. I’m real lucky because I feel like I’ve got a couple of swell relationships going.”

Deirdre, you have more swell relationships going than you could ever know.