By Declan Hickey
There is no greater reservoir of satisfaction than the BBC Radio 4 archive, suffering only from its incompleteness. Fortunately, the channel’s enduring contribution to mankind, Desert Island Discs, is among its better-preserved programmes. Better still, the golden age of 1988–2006 survives fully intact, no record or luxury spared. Devoted listeners will know these as the Sue Lawley years—a transformative period in which the programme evolved from its frivolous origins under Roy Plomley to the apogee of the musical-biographical interview.
The explanation is clear: Lawley’s terse style of questioning lent itself to the broadest possible range of guests, including academics, politicians, and a healthy supply of musicians. Witness her exchanges with Enoch Powell and Diana Mosley, figures too odious for some to countenance, uncompromisingly dissected by Lawley within the confines of the programme. One can scarcely imagine the rigidly scripted Plomley asking Powell if he was a racist, or Mosley about her Holocaust denial—questions ill-suited to the placid waters of the desert island. And what of the music? Under Lawley the choice of records was no longer a means unto itself, but a valuable corollary to her guest’s life story. This combination comprises the magic of Desert Island Discs, graciously bestowed by its greatest host.
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