Radio 1 launches cull that Owen Paterson might think a bit much

There's been the sort of cull of Radio 1 presenters which, in the past, would have triggered a thousand 'whither pop radio' think pieces but seems to have slipped by without much comment at all.

There's some big names going, too:

BBC Radio 1 and 1Xtra are to axe DJs including Edith Bowman, Rob Da Bank and Nihal in a schedule shake-up driven by the need to cut costs.

Controller Ben Cooper admitted that the cull of presenters – which includes Mike Davies, Jen Long, Ally McCrae, CJ Beatz, Crissy Criss and Robbo Ranx – have been driven by cuts across the corporation introduced after the last licence fee settlement.

This boils down mostly to Huw Stephens being asked to pick up a lot of the slack, with him getting a programme that sounds a bit like Colin Murray's post-Zane Lowe slot.

Da Bank going is something of a hit; and in terms of losing interesting people do worthwhile things, Davies' punk show has been a quiet gem in the Radio 1 schedule.

Difficult times at the BBC, of course, but it's a pity that the savings are coming at the cost of the diversity which makes Radio 1 worth keeping.

Edith Bowman: Rock critic

Edith Bowman unhappy with the current state of pop:

[She] hit out at current pop acts for offering nothing different, reports the Daily Star.

"We need something different - everyone is the same," she said.

Yes, yes, you've got a point there, Edith. If only you had some position to influence that - you know, like some sort of programme on a national radio station where you could promote new and interesting music. That'd be handy.

Perhaps you could try persuading Radio 1 to replace the woman with same name as you who does a programme for them - it can't be the same Edith Bowman, can it, as that Edith Bowman packs her show with The Hoosiers, 30 Seconds To Mars and Kasabian.

This Edith Bowman, the one talking to the Star, is much different. She has a mind like a forensic music-blade:

On The Saturdays, whose new single charted at number three yesterday, she added: "They are just copying Girls Aloud."

You know what, I think she might be right. I've investigated, and it's almost as if some people in an office had attempted to concoct a version of Girls Aloud that cost a little less to run using slightly cheaper ingredients. I can't imagine how I'd missed that before Edith pointed it out.

Mind you, having opened my mind to the possibility that this sort of thing happens, I'm now starting to suspect that Edith Bowman might just be copying Jo Whiley. Surely that can't be, though?

Whiley, Bowman sidelined in favour of Kit Curran & Smurfette

The sound of the last tide of Matthew Bannister's Radio One washing away, then, as Jo Whiley and Edith Bowman are eased to one side in a new Radio One line-up:

The Radio 1 controller, Andy Parfitt, said: "BBC Radio 1 must continue to change to connect with a new generation of audiences and this is a significant move, promoting three of our up and coming broadcasters into the heart of the schedule."

Aha, so it's about moving out the older presenters for some new, fresh names, is it?

Not quite, as they're bringing in Greg James and Fearne Cotton to daily slots.

Fearne Cotton is 28, so only a little younger than Bowman; Bowman is 34 and actually younger than Chris Moyles.

To be fair, Whiley had started to turn into a fixture of the Simon Bates sort in mid-mornings, and probably is at the point of needing to move on. It's disappointing, though, that Radio One have chosen to abandon any pretence of being interested in music during the daytime in favour of a woman who feels much more Variety Club Showbusiness Awards than Camden Crawl.

Greg James is probably more surprised than anyone at this promotion, given that he actually has the words "sitting in for" on his driving licence. He's one of those people who crop up in radio a lot, with two first names and an ability to fill the unforgiving minute with just enough chat to take us up to the news, weather and travel. Adrian John. Paul Jordan. One of those.

It all makes for the most crushingly lightweight daytime Radio One schedule since Mike Smith and Gary Davies were alive.

Glastonbury 2009: View from the sofa - Ting Tings & Friendly Fires

Edith has now put on a jacket, with a yachting feel to it. It's like she's lost her bags and has had to rely on borrowing stuff from a bunch of Eton schoolboys.

Shouldn't there have been two people presenting this package of programmes? Isn't that an immutable law of Glastonbury coverage? Was Zane Lowe supposed to turn up but was too wrecked by the thought of Michael Jackson's death to go on? Or is this the new, frugal BBC in action - now 50% fewer presenters?

The Ting Tings come on BBC Three, wearing the sort of sunglasses that the makers of Skins give to their cast thinking it makes them look edgy. It seems to be pretty much the same set we were watching last year, so it's off to the red button extra stuff.

Friendly Fires are there, doing a set whose quality cannot quite disguise that Ed is wearing the sort of shirt that Stuart Adamson gave a bad name to.

Glastonbury 2009: View from the sofa - Lady GaGa

If only Corrie had written the Jack and Connie story the way the touching scenes tonight went, instead of as some clumsy explanation for why Connie might have sex with Kevin in the face of all logic, perhaps Weatherfield wouldn't feel like its in such a tailspin right now.

Sorry, that's not BBC Three, is it? Flicking on to the BBC TV coverage for the first time, it's Lady GaGa, with her famous firework bra.

Except on TV, it looks less like she's got pyrotechnic tits, and more like she's strapped a couple of Camping Gaz stoves to her chest. And like camp stoves, although you get the odd spark from them, there's nothing that's going to really get your soup bubbling.

For Poker Face, she removes her apparatus and strips down to flesh-coloured underwear. It might just be me, but knickers the colour of sticking plaster always seem more like support hose than lingerie. Michael Eavis has stopped banging on about trying to bring teenagers back to Worthy Farm, but this sort of adolescent fantasy seems to be perfect for that.

Over, then, to Edith Bowman stood, forlornly, in some glass box hovering in the sky. Edith observes that GaGa's guitarist looked like Jack White and her bassist looked like Kurt Cobain. This is, it seems, "weird" for some reason. Not as weird as Bowman's outfit, which I've been trying to place and can only describe as the sort of thing a British romcom would have the female lead wear for a 'morning after' scene - Hugh Grant's baggy rugby shirt and the boots from the night before.

Glastobox: Watching from a safe distance

Were The Feeling doing I Thought It Was Over live? Really live? It didn't sound like it was coming from a stage in a unseasonally autumnal field.

BBC Three is currently being anchored by Edith Bowman and Zane Lowe - Lowe, surely, must be wondering if he's ever going to get any work from the BBC besides festivals and the Evening Session slot by now. Clearly, the City Of Domes that is modern Radio One means he can't do that forever, and it looks like he's attempting to slightly reposition himself enough to open some other lines of employment. Calmer, controlled, almost suave. But he's never going to get a National Lottery themed gameshow, is he?

Bowman is laughing like a tractor sinking into a slurry tank; Rufus Hound is filling up acres of air time with those pointless roving reports that they seem to think are integral to the programme - Hound does 'em well, but it doesn't alter the fact the reason why most of us are watching on TV is we don't want to spend time with the sort of eccentrically-behatted types who clutter up the campsites like a wacky invading army, so we really don't want to hear what they have to say. Especially when, as the woman who was just on, it's "I have a different outfit each day, pink yesterday, multi-colour today... these are my friends from London, but I see them most weekends despite coming from..." Where? Wales? Scotland? Spain? Nope... "... Kent." Not all the way from Kent to London, a distance of less than no miles.

Lupe Fiasco has, somewhat optimistically, encouraged people to sing along "if you know the words." The audience tried, but thought the words were "polite cheer".

Edith and Zane are trying to talk up the Jay-Z set - "word has definitely got to him about the reaction to his set" suggests Zane, letting us into the secret we wouldn't have heard unless we had ears or eyes of some sort.

Editors were pretty good - you can see why people peg them as a bit like Coldplay - they even have the same wet beards, but it's like comparing a microwave curry with the proper deal in a restuarant. Yes, there's a sense of the flavours being similar, but only one offers a real experience of textures, and surprises, and satisfaction.

This year's entertainment value has been increased greatly by adding the Guardian's Great Lyrics booklets, allowing countless rounds of 'One song to the tune of another'.

[Part of Glastonbury 2008]

Edith Bowman: It's a boy

That's not Edith who's a boy. It's what she's given birth to, her and Tom from Editors. Congratulations all round.

[UPDATE: That'd be the proper link now, then]

Here's good news for Googlers

Those people who tirelessly type Edit Bowman topless into Google will be exploding with joy this morning, as Edith has shed all her clothes to promote Breast Cancer Awareness month.

It's slightly disappointing that the default creative idea nowadays when an attractive woman offers support for an charity awareness camapaign is to get them to take their clothes off. We don't mind looking at pictures of people with no clothes on, but it's uninspired and also sends a worrying message that all that women have to bring to social change and medical research is a bit of breast jiggling and the hint of thigh.

It's also a bit of a shame that having got pictures of Edith Bowman naked in the name of charity, The Sun then manages to get the URL of the campaign she's supporting wrong. It's breastcancercare.org.uk.

Edith Bowman's heart broken at Glastonbury

Many people find themselves at Glastonbury - discovering loves they didn't know, rashes they didn't expect, a desire to juggle they should have kept quiet about. Edith Bowman found out she had a didgy ticker:

"I came back from Glastonbury last weekend and took ages to recover."

Medics discovered there was an issue that may in the future need surgery.

"They found out I have a bicuspid valve, which means that my heart has to work harder," Bowman explained. "I might need a valve transplant if it deteriorates, but for now I just have to be careful and keep fit."

As Ruth Pott-Negrine asked when she brought this to our attention:

[I]t begs the question, what the devil did she do at Glastonbury to get so sick in the first place?

GlastOn TV

Sweeping The Nation has been watching Glastonbury on the BBC:

[A] lot of message boards seem to be bellyaching about the standard of the presenting but we see no real difference from any other year, and this afternoon Lauren was on rare form like we haven't seen her on prime-time telly for years.

We've also seen a lot of people suggesting that the event is "missing John Peel", but to be honest, we never felt comfortable watching Peel presenting Glastonbury in the past; as he himself would admit, live TV wasn't really his thing and most of his links have off the air of a man who'd much rather have been stood quietly at the back of a tent watching music than throwing to the Stereo MCs set on BBC2.

Back in the present, the Manics turn up and show a hint of what the future might hold for Pete Doherty; the fire in the belly long since replaced with something more showbizzy, working the crowd instead of rousing the rabble. On those terms, the band are right on form at the moment, although watching middle-aged men performing in front of a massive picture of teenage girls in hotpants is a bit of a queasy moment; like some of the reactions to Jonathan in Big Brother, although it's an innocent gesture, it has enough of a creepy air to it to make you wonder if they thought it through.

The Rakes are doing 22 Grand Job, but there's an air of a band whose moment has passed about them. Maybe if there'd been a festival last year, they'd have managed to keep some momentum to build upon; even they seem to have know this is probably a wake.

Oh, look... here come people dressed as animals. It's Mika's set, and alongside the contents of a badly stocked Fancy Dress Store and the inflatable ladies, Mika is bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. He's trying very, very hard. But all the effort is visible, like whatever the opposite of a swan paddling under the water would be - a fish struggling in a net? He's trying to sell a sizzle, but can't disguise there's no steak there.

The Kaiser Chiefs fans seem to perk up the wetter and wetter their heroes get, although that might be because they get wetter as the set goes on, and the longer they play, the closer they get to their decent songs.

Surprisingly, Mark Ronson turns out to be much more fun to watch being interviewed than playing music. As he's talking to Zane Lowe and Edith Bowman (who's wearing her Ermintrude hat right up to the last), you find yourself thinking "this guy is really funny, and charming, and warm. Why don't we like his music?" Then, you swap to a stream where he's murdering The Zutons' Valerie, and you remember.

Glaston TV

BBC Three, then, seem to have had to rely on the delights of Zane Lowe and Edith Bowman to keep themselves afloat. Edith seems to have not been told that The Wurzels have pulled out, to judge by her straw hat/neckerchief combination; Zane Lowe has turned up wearing the same outfit - possibly the very same outfit - he's relied on for every TV appearance: black t-shirt and a shave which might be 'couldn't care less', might be 'grows back bloody quickly'.

How long has Peter Kay been playing drums with Kasabian? Actually, it's only when Ian Matthews looks excited that he turns into a dead ringer for Peter Kay. Kasabian - whose self-imposed target is low - manage to turn in a set that's pretty impressive by their standards; while, paradoxically, Arcade Fire try for something more stretching and, to judge by what the BBC have shown so far, fell a little short.

The Arctic Monkeys set has been interesting - it could actually be cut out of the programming and shown as a stand alone example of the Arctic Monkeys Problem: their flashes of brilliance come wrapped in a large amount of so-so and that'll do padding; watching them playing in real time, without the luxury of a skip button, that gets rammed home. As does the reliance of much of their work on a single sound motif, repeated more than it can stand, like territorial army marching tunes.

Mark Radcliffe's going to be chairing on BBC Four, apparently: wonder if he'll be doing it from the helicopter?