.
“I’ve done 52 years on air, and this has been, without a doubt, the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Morris — who has also signed off from At The Movies Matinee Idle five years in, though the chemistry was long established. For years, the pair had been visiting each other’s homes to stage friendly musical “duels”, trying to outdo one another with forgotten or obscure gems.
The pair finished up their spot on RNZ on Friday, 9 January.
Mark Papalii
“So we found a whole lot of interesting songs a good 10 years before we even thought about doing Matinee Idle ,” Morris says.
That playful antagonism became the show’s calling card. The duo delighted in baiting listeners, often playing songs people had publicly declared they hated.
“My wife calls it student radio for the elderly,” O’Brien says. “It’s just two old guys fighting for control of the CD player really.”
The result was pure marmite. Some listeners recoiled, others became fiercely loyal — but most eventually grasped the point, O’Brien says.
“I like every single song that has ever been recorded or ever written. It’s at least one person’s favourite song. So therefore, who are we to say, ‘no, this is rubbish’,” he says. “When people write in and say ‘that song’s awful’, I translate the text to say, ‘I don’t like it very much’. That’s what it means. So we don’t worry too much about that.”
The early years could be bruising, particularly on a network better known for serious interviews. Criticism was sometimes personal and cruel. O’Brien recalls receiving a text wishing him ill while he was undergoing cancer treatment.
The pair were affectionately known to loyal listeners as Uncle Phil and cousin Si,
Mark Papalii
Of another incident, he says: “I remember going to my boss at the time saying, ‘I’ve got to go and have a lie down, I’m all upset, someone said something horrible’.
“And he said, ‘no, no, the whole point of the show is to wind people up, to do an exact opposite of what we normally do’.”
That reverse psychology paid off over time – songs initially rejected would slowly win listeners over, he says.
“We know that a lot of people who listen to the show have gone out and explored new music as a result of hearing it on the show. That’s the best gig in the world.”
There were eccentric themes too, including Morris’ favourite: a holiday programme featuring artists named Anne and Zach, devised after exhausting every conceivable Anzac angle. For O’Brien, the show also became a small but vital distraction from an increasingly grim news cycle.
Matinee Idle co-host Phil O’Brien in the Wellington studio.
RNZ / REECE BAKER
Matinee Idle’ s reach extended far beyond New Zealand. Messages arrived from Europe, America and even Saudi Arabia, O’Brien notes. Famous fans included Sam Neill — who once filled in as host — an unnamed former prime minister who requested Uriah Heep songs, and Kate Bush, who wrote asking where she could get a copy of James Reyne singing Wuthering Heights . O’Brien recalls Neill pulling over mid-drive because he was laughing too hard while listening, later tweeting about the show and helping grow its audience.
Listeners also formed real-world bonds. One regular from New Jersey travelled to New Zealand purely after hearing about it on the station; local listeners tracked his movements and organised a get-together over food, O’Brien says.
“It’s bizarre, but that’s what radio was always supposed to be. It was supposed to be about community, getting like-minded people invariably in the same city – when radio was not national, when it was just regional -and it was a community.”
Friendships, marriages — even funeral gatherings — have grown out of the Matinee Idle orbit, he says.
As the duo step away, Morris bids listeners farewell with gratitude and curiosity about what might come next.
“We’ve got the classiest audience in the country, I think.”
When O’Brien learned the show was ending, his first thought was that he’d happily do another year. Still, he reflects on a remarkable 21-year run for a programme meant to last just two weeks.
“Also 21 is supposedly the year you leave home.”
Despite petitions to save the show in its current format, he says leaving on a high feels right.
“I don’t want to be this old guy desperately clinging to what’s left of a radio show that was a shadow of its former self,” he says. “Look, we’re going well at the moment. We’re loving it. Let’s call it quits.”
If RNZ were to ask him back next year, however, he says that’s “not a problem”.
They left listeners on the final episode with a theme about music’s future.
“We’ve spent 21 years playing this music to people and now artificial intelligence has come along and is making music so we don’t know what’s real anymore,” O’Brien says.
“Now, the tragic thing is that some of this AI music, and I really don’t like it, but some of it is brilliantly done … That’s why we’re leaving today, because we’re saying AI has won. We’ve done our best.”
O’Brien will continue weekend broadcasting while enjoying “semi-retirement” in Greytown.
In a statement, RNZ Interim Head of Content John Hartevelt thanked the pair.
“We thank Phil and fellow presenter Simon Morris, not only for working at a time when most are on holiday, but also for their dedication to expanding our music horizons by introducing New Zealanders to weird and wonderful music from around the world.”
