Source : the age
“It’s like a Friday night game of football: when you have a good show, the rest of the day has a golden glow to it,” Bob Murphy says of his first week on ABC Breakfast radio in Melbourne.
The former Bulldogs captain, together with ex-Channel Seven journalist Sharnelle Vella, kicked off in the highly competitive slot of 5.30am-8am weekdays on Monday.
Bob Murphy took the reins of ABC Melbourne Breakfast, alongside Sharnelle Vella, this week.Credit: Wayne Taylor
The most common question the 42-year-old is now asked is how he copes with the early starts – he now gets up at 3.45am, “which is yesterday”; “4am is today”.
“There’s just a disarming nature at that early hour,” Murphy says. “You hop up and there’s a quiet, a stillness to the city often, and it’s dark, and then you’re just in there with your headphones on, and you’re talking to one another, and things just seem to sort of flow from you.”
Murphy and Vella had never met before they did a pilot show for the ABC last year, barring a single phone call in which she teased him about making a power play, having missed her initial call.
Ten seconds into that conversation, Murphy thought: “There’s something here, this could work.” The pilot, which threw them into a studio together, was fun, then they did a run of evening programs – “like a little pre-season” – before Christmas.
While it was a great learning curve, it also reinforced mornings as the ideal slot, he says.
“By nighttime, my natural rhythms are slower, and I’m a bit lethargic,” he says. “I’ve always felt like, early in the morning, despite how that might sound at various times, that’s the sharpest version.”
Vella and Murphy on their first ABC Breakfast radio slot. Credit:
The concept of a duo hosting Breakfast has been the topic of much debate with the national broadcaster’s audience, with listener feedback often negative about having co-hosts. In 2018, Jacinta Parsons and Sammy Shah replaced long-termer Red Symons; they stayed in the gig for two years.
While he understands people’s reservations, Murphy says: “There’s a whole lot of opportunities on the other side of the page of what two hosts can bring to a show, and we want to explore that side of the page.”
Week one suggests the pairing is inspired. The co-hosts riff off each other and have a natural ease that’s impossible to confect. Vella delighted in correcting Murphy over his mispronunciation of the suburb Truganina, for example, and ribbed him over his fixation with the idea of story arcs. On a serious note, he was impressed with her forensic journalistic skills.
Broadcasting is clearly different to football, but there are synergies, not the least of which are planning and preparation.
“And then you get in and anything could happen, really. You can start talking about one thing, and it takes a turn, and off it goes. And that’s sport, that’s music, that’s theatre,” Murphy says.
“I’ve clearly stepped out of a sports world that does deal with politics and culture and community and those things, but it is centred around the game. This is a completely different coliseum … I’m relishing the chance to talk about lots of different topics with lots of different, interesting people, and doing it next to someone who has a totally different background and skill set to mine.”
Predecessor Sammy J held the slot for five years and announced his retirement in December.
“I’ve just felt my creative stuff has been pushed to the edges to the point where it was now or never,” said the comedian, whose real name is Samuel McMillan, on leaving. He is now preparing a show for the Comedy Festival in March.
When he began, Sammy J would cycle into the studio listening to the BBC World Service. Speaking to this masthead back then, he soon realised that was messing with his head – it wasn’t possible to be across all the news, all the time. Also, that’s not what the role is about.
Murphy says: “There is a temptation of thinking you have to be an expert on things, and that’s really not what you are at all, but you do have to be curious about the news of the day and the people on the show.”
The slot is particularly intimate, involving hard news, entertainment and banter. Being in the chair exposes who you are, warts and all, says the former footballer philosophically.
“So you can fight it and worry about it, or just go with it. And hopefully over time you earn a bit of warmth from the audience because, for the most part, they can see – hopefully – what’s in your heart,” he says.
“And put up with the odd mispronunciation.”
