Chair of Judges Simon Elmes explores the qualities that make an audio feature stand out: a distinctive idea, close attention to real voices and experiences, and a thoughtful use of sound and storytelling to draw the listener in.

I have to confess, I love a good thunderstorm. All that flashing and rumbling, the thrill of the approaching downpour from a silent flickering horizon through to crack-of-doom thunderclaps directly overhead. And it’s a bit the same with a really terrific piece of audio feature-making: the whizz-bangs of an exciting story, the jeopardy of how it will all turn out, the spectacular and surprising blasts of sound or music. A great feature knocks me for six.

And that’s what I and my fellow judges are always on the lookout for when we start the sheer thrill of listening to another year’s crop of Charles Parker Prize entries.  

There are no rules

You see, it’s frankly impossible to predict quite what will produce that audio thunderstorm. It’s a strange, chemical mix of brilliant story, narrative- and sound-surprises, unexpected twists and turns, deeply felt emotion and, hopefully, a satisfying resolution. Sadly, no one can teach you how to do it, because the moment anyone starts imposing ‘rules’, the best programme-makers go and break them, dammit!

So, sorry folks, there’s no ‘magic formula’ or ‘secret’ of how to make a prize-winning Charles Parker feature. But there are some useful pointers to what sets us judges on fire as we sit and listen.

Once upon a time…

When I was a kid, I was given a magical book by the American master of speculative fiction, Ray Bradbury. It was called ‘Switch on the Night’. Apart from being a beautiful piece of writing, the story of ‘Switch on the Night’ neatly captures what a memorable audio feature can do.

The little boy in the story is left alone one night and, without parents to reassure him, as night falls, he’s terrified. He goes from room to room switching on all the lights: “…even the attic lights! The house looked like it was on fire!” But the boy, lonely in his house while other children play outside ‘on the summer-night lawns’, suddenly encounters a little girl:

“My name is Dark, she said. And she had dark hair, and dark eyes, and wore a dark dress.
But her face was as white as the moon. And the light in her eyes shone like white stars.”
Dark takes the boy round the house switching off the lights. Because, as she explains, every light switch is also a night switch. Which switches on the frogs and the crickets “and the great big white moon”.

Now, what has this old children’s book from 70 years ago have to do with audio features? Well, for me it captures precisely the sort of magic that the really best pieces – the ones that win the Charles Parker Award – do. Like Ray Bradbury’s little story, a great feature is transformative. It makes the listener see the world in a different light; flips the switch, as it were, on the expected, the normal, the routine. The great features surprise us by going places where we’ve not thought to set foot before. And, like the little boy in the story shown the nighttime world by the magic girl, Dark, our ears and our mind are flipped. Just like a switch.

An award for audio Feature

I want, too, to underline that the Charles Parker Prize is awarded every year to the best student feature. Not podcast, not interview, not discussion; feature. What do we mean? An audio feature is a composed piece of audio, deploying the resources of the audio-maker in such a way as to create a story that captures the imagination.

The role of the ‘author’

In Europe – where some of the finest audio features are made – they call the person behind the programme ‘the author’. It’s a good word. Because, unlike the simple function of ‘producer’ or ‘maker’ or ‘sound-designer’, the author is above all the story-maker, the dramatist of the piece. They have at their disposal just four basic ingredients – sound (‘actuality’, the recorded track of things happening); speech (single voice, interview, archive etc); music (of any style or period and including tones and drones); and finally silence (often immensely powerful). Not every feature deploys all of these elements; it’s the author’s choice and decision which to use where, how and in what order. Gosh, big decisions!

The J-word

And then there’s the J-word. ‘Jeopardy’ is the fancy term for ‘OMG, what’s going to happen next?’ If the person in a story is facing a decision where the outcome is uncertain, the power of that uncertainty can be utterly compelling.

How we judge your programme

First up, it’s your idea. Is it original, different, fresh, quirky, shocking….? We’ve had so many remarkable ideas for features over the years, it’s bewildering just to think about.

Then we’re interested in how you tell your story. Does it engage us as we listen, does it develop interestingly, does it pull sudden surprises when we’re not expecting them? This is the art of propulsive storytelling. Not everything must be in chronological order.

We look at how you use your resources (sound, voice, music, silence). Is it appropriate, undercooked, overdone?

And, of course, we also think about the piece as a whole. Did it keep us listening intently right to the end? And – not the least important question! – did we enjoy the show?

We also think about the audio legacy of the great Charles Parker. Elsewhere on this site, you can read extensively about the work of this master of radio. And while it’s by no means a requirement, we love to hear features that echo Charles’s passion for the lives of ordinary working women and men, as well as for the music of Everyman – storytelling through folk music.

Good luck!