Rebels, Records and Radio Waves

For three years we have spent most of our time on an old converted ferry floating out at sea, spinning the discs kids want to hear. We take turns heading back to shore for a week’s leave before returning to the work we love.

We’re known as pirates to some, but to the young, we’re legends. Our shared passion for music brought us together. Music is as essential to us as the blood flowing through our veins. We beg record labels to furnish us with their newest releases to add to our personal music libraries. Despite the difficulties, we imagine kids huddled around their transistor radios listening to their favourite singers whilst their parents listen to some boring old-fashioned music. In the words of Bob Dylan, ‘The times they are a-changing.’

Tonight, the salty mist clings to our skin, mingling with the scent of rebellion as we stand defiant against the stuffed shirts of the government who want to silence us. As the clock ticks toward midnight, the air crackles with anticipation, as we know our listeners wait with bated breath to see if we say a last goodbye. When midnight strikes, a new law will be enacted. Returning to the shore puts us at risk of arrest, a gamble we are prepared to take.

I remember the raging storms that turned the sea into a churning, chaotic mess we faced in winter months. All of us braved the elements, our icy fingers finding solace in the warmth of hot mugs of tea. We toiled away in stuffy cabins all summer, driven by our love for music, finding our satisfaction in the joy we brought to our audience.

We are dedicated radio pirates. Surrender? Not us; we stick two fingers up while blasting out another record as the clock strikes midnight. The skipper fires up the engine, its steady hum signalling our departure into the open, deeper waters. We shall not be silenced.