This is not about the TV spectacle that features singers competing for money and prizes. Or maybe just money. I don’t know; I’ve never watched it. To its credit, it’s been on the air for 27 seasons (number 28 is due this Fall). That’s a pretty good career for anyone associated with it, so kudos to them.
No, this is about something much more mundane. It’s also pretty shallow, if I say so myself. But this is my site, so I can be as pedantic, snarky or narcissistic as I wish. You don’t pay for my opinions, and as the site’s subhead states, everyone is entitled to it. That doesn’t mean you have to agree, or even read further.
Now, three paragraphs in (have you noticed how many articles on the web don’t get to the point right away? What’s with that?) I’ll lay the groundwork.
In my college years, and even some years before, radio was the “source medium” of the day. It was how we got our news, weather and sports reports. Then television began shoving radio aside, and today both are ancient technologies due to the Internet. But they persist.
Several times during those years I was told, “You should be in radio.” Maybe it was because people thought I had a face for radio (rimshot!) or they honestly thought I had a voice that was suited for it.
It was fairly common knowledge at the time that there were schools for people wishing to enter the field. The Columbia School of Broadcasting {link unavailable} was perhaps the best known. I should note that the Columbian School of Broadcasting is not affiliated with Columbia University, which has its own school of journalism and broadcasting. In addition, there is a Connecticut organization with the same name. I’m not going down that rabbit hole.
Broadcasting schools were there to train and educate those interested in a career in broadcasting (duh). Among the courses offered were voice lessons, which covered topics such as diction, pacing, tone and presentation. Successful completion of a course might lead one to a position in the broadcast industry, and the cream of the crop would find themselves in front of a microphone.
My father was an avid listener to the Harden & Weaver program, broadcast weekday mornings on WMAL Radio, which at the time was on the AM band at 630 (it is still Washington, D. C.’s most popular talk radio station, now broadcasting on the FM band at 105.9). Full of humor, topical news and personalities that wouldn’t quit, Frank Harden and Jackson Weaver both had voices made for radio (there is a book about them here).
A “radio voice” is not necessarily stentorian, but the schools would train them to be resonant, well modulated, clear and articulate, warm and inviting. Harden & Weaver epitomized these characteristics. Don Ameche (1908–1993) was not only a golden voice, but an Oscar-winning actor. As was James Earl Jones, without whose voice Darth Vader might have been little more than a cartoon character rather than the menacing evil who made the Star Wars franchise famous.

The original Star Wars movie poster (no credit to Jones, although the Vader image prevails)
Rush Limbaugh is another voice that typifies the attributes listed above. Whether you agreed with his politics or not, his voice was a commanding presence on the airwaves for more than 30 years.
There are an awful lot of radio personalities now that fail my personal “broadcaster test.” Not to detract from some very successful on-air personalities like Wolfman Jack and Mark Levin, both of whom have pedigrees longer than my arm (the Wolfman actually graduated from the National Academy of Broadcasting in Washington, D.C.) but I have a tolerance level for voices that growl, scratch, croak, squeak or scream. Sorry to say, Mark Levin’s voice alone is the main reason I don’t listen to him. That he’s intelligent, well-read and loves dogs is a given. But his voice is the broadcast equivalent of scraped chalk on a blackboard (or, if that’s too old of a reference, how about a fork scraping a plate?), especially when he gets excited. I’d wager Levin is not a broadcast school graduate! I am a fan, although not a rabid one, of local sports teams, but the radio outlet here hosts a number of on-air types who may know every stat, number, play and player, but whose voices are so unlistenable that I refuse to tune to their station. Thirty seconds of mumble, screech and what-have-you are all I can take before switching stations.
I really do enjoy listening to radio voices that entertain me, don’t speak down to me, don’t pander, and most of all, don’t offend my ears. If I can’t find a radio program I like, I turn on some music. Problem solved!