An Online Radio Station Where Everything Is Eclectic

On a gloomy Tuesday this past March, a cohort of trendy young Britons was waking up to the sounds of underground ’80s R&B. And Swedish space disco. And the folk singer John Martyn.

Flo Dill, host of “The Breakfast Show” on the online radio station NTS, was floating around in a small East London studio, quietly back-announcing those tracks and laughing at messages in the station’s lively online chat room. Like most morning radio hosts, she tries to ease listeners into their day, slowly bringing up the tempo. But unlike most morning radio hosts, Dill plays tracks in a mixture of styles that can run the gamut from obscure ambient music to timeworn dad rock.

“The Breakfast Show” encapsulates the spirit of NTS, an eclectic revamp of traditional radio that draws listeners — and on-air talent — from across the globe. Since it was founded in 2011, NTS has grown into a big fish in underground music’s small pond: You could maybe go for an entire day listening to NTS and not recognize a single artist, and, even in Britain, the average person on the street would never have heard of it.

But the station’s devoted fans are drawn to its shows, most of which are structured like D.J. mixes, with no talking between tracks; others play like Dill’s: modern, casual updates on classic radio formats, with genre-agnostic programming.

Dill said in an interview that NTS works because, unlike traditional radio, which “spoon feeds” its audience, it doesn’t patronize or treat the listener as “a moron.” (NTS’s tagline is “Don’t Assume.”) She started volunteering at NTS in 2016, at a time when there were hardly any full-time staff members. Now, there are around 45 working across the station and its related businesses, which include putting on festivals and events and creating marketing campaigns for brands like Carhartt, Netflix and Sonos.

“The Breakfast Show” should be a respite from the “relentless pursuit of beige stuff” in today’s culture, Dill said. The program is broadly accessible — she sees it as a portal into the broader NTS ecosystem, which can be “so specialist” — but considered and particular in its tastes.

That spirit has thrived since NTS’s beginning, when the London D.J. and blogger Femi Adeyemi spun it off from a music blog he was writing called “Nuts to Soup.” In an interview, Adeyemi said he conceived of NTS as a cross between U.K. pirate radio — a fixture of the country’s music scene that he admired, but found “very restrictive” — and American college radio, which “had that free-form approach that I hadn’t really heard much of in the U.K.”

In 2015, NTS expanded, opening a studio in Manchester and one in Los Angeles the following year. Currently, NTS hosts around 700 shows a month — roughly 600 from residents, who host weekly, biweekly or monthly shows, and 100 or so from guest D.J.s — which come in from cities across the world, including Beirut, Lebanon; Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam; and Melbourne, Australia. NTS broadcasts without advertising, instead relying on income from its commercial activities and a membership program called “NTS Supporters” to keep the station afloat. In March, the station averaged 360,000 listeners a day, according to its chief executive, Sean McAuliffe.

Tabitha Thorlu-Bangura, the director of music and programming at NTS, said that the station “was the first platform in London that really reflected the breadth” of her taste as a young Black music fan with a genre-agnostic mind-set. It was that boundary-dissolving character that brings people to the station, she added.

Dill said the station could also act as a bulwark against the idea that listening to music is a passive experience. “I want people to not think that music is just a background thing that’s on Spotify, that rolls into the next song and they all sound vaguely the same,” she said. (Around 40 percent of the music played on NTS is not available on the streaming service, McAuliffe noted.) “I want people to think that music is a really valuable, amazing art form, like a painting or a sculpture,” Dill added.

Although it is based in London, NTS has global appeal. Nabihah Iqbal, who has been broadcasting on NTS for over a decade, said that she once received a message from a man in the Nubian Desert who listened to her show from the one spot in his Sudanese village where he could get cell signal.

“What NTS reflects is the way that music consumption and connecting through music has changed because of the internet,” she said. “Listening to the station live, and being part of the chat room and connecting to people that way is a very real way of feeling like you’re part of a community.”

The station’s listenership ballooned during the pandemic lockdowns of 2020 and 2021, and McAuliffe said there were now plans to “amplify NTS more.” It has never spent any money on marketing, for example, but plans to in the future. McAuliffe also said NTS would roll out a new feature of its app and website that “will enable more people to have a better music discovery experience” and “will get a lot more musicians and music rights holders paid at a time when they’re not getting paid enough.” He declined to give further details.

With the platform getting bigger, Dill said she didn’t want its core identity to get lost. Adeyemi recently sold part of his stake in the company to Universal Music Group, the major label conglomerate that releases music by Taylor Swift and Drake, among others. (McAuliffe, Dill and Adeyemi all said that the company has no influence on the music that’s played on NTS, and has no seats on the company’s board.) The money from Universal would mean that NTS won’t get subsumed into a streaming service like Apple Music, Dill said, as happened to other independent radio operations, including “Beats in Space,” the beloved radio show hosted by the D.J. Tim Sweeney, which moved from WNYU-FM to Apple Music in 2021.

“I have seen, over the course of my time, many things I loved go away because they can’t continue,” Dill said. “If someone wants to give us money, I’m fine with that.”

Dill said that if the station were to professionalize too much, or stray too far from its intended goals, then it wouldn’t be for her anymore. “I get satisfaction from representing the station that I really believe in and I’m proud of,” she said. “I guess it comes back to trust. I feel really proud that people trust me enough to put me on in the morning.”