by Linda Coogan Byrne
Radio in the background of a room can feel almost invisible. It hums in kitchens, cars, and shops. Radio sits somewhere between news and everyday life. In Ireland and the United Kingdom, it still reaches close to nine in ten adults every week. During the first Covid lockdown, listening numbers rose even further. We know that in moments of uncertainty, people turn to familiar voices.
But familiarity is not neutral. It is, and always has been, curated.
Official Irish Singles Chart data revealed a vast gap. An entire stretch from 2010 to 2020 showed that these charts had never placed a solo Irish woman at number one. At a time when women across the country were putting out records, touring abroad, and building their audiences, this was wild to me.
Upon introspection, that absence was not random. It reflected what was happening on national radio playlists.
My curiosity was no longer a thing I could abate. In 2020, during lockdown, I began analyzing broadcast airplay data across Ireland and the UK. I launched Why Not Her? , an independent audit examining gender representation across radio and festival programming. The question was simple: who is actually being played during peak listening hours, when audiences and advertising revenues are at their highest, and why?
Skipping female artists
The first findings were shocking to me but validating to women in music. Across mainstream Irish radio, domestic female artists accounted for just 7.7%of airplay. On some stations, Irish women did not appear in heavy rotation for extended periods, sometimes for five years at a time. Heavy rotation refers to the highest tier of a station's playlist where tracks are scheduled multiple times a day. It's a programming decision that plays a significant role in shaping which artists receive widespread exposure and ultimately commercial traction.
Heavy rotation is not simply a marker of popularity. It is a commercial mechanism. These are the songs repeated when audiences are largest and cultural familiarity is built. They shape public recognition and influence which artists are perceived as successful.
The broader ecosystem of the music industry follows a predictable pattern. Airplay drives streaming. Streaming influences charts. Charts shape festival booking, label investment, export funding, and media coverage. Exposure compounds. So does exclusion. The decade-long chart drought for Irish women was not a mystery. It was the outcome of this system.
When I presented this data to the Broadcasting Authority of Ireland, I was told meaningful change would take at least five years. I was warned that shifting playlists too quickly might upset male presenters who 'had mouths to feed'. A senior programmer suggested that women and artists of color could be introduced gradually during overnight slots, when fewer people were listening. Inclusion, apparently, was safest in the dark.
This is how gatekeeping typically operates in cultural industries: rarely through explicit bans, but often through habit, risk aversion, and assumptions about audience preference. Yet audience preference is shaped by repetition. If women are not played, they do not become familiar. If they are not familiar, they are considered commercially risky. The cycle reinforces itself.
Data interrupts that cycle. Why Not Her? was built on spreadsheets and publicly available industry data using Radiomonitor, a system that tracks the worldwide airplay of songs and is relied upon by record labels and broadcasters. I did not invent new metrics. I simply counted what was already happening and published the results.
The data did not stay quiet. The reports prompted national and international media coverage, parliamentary discussion, and internal industry reviews. We expanded the analysis to the UK, where the response was notably different. Monitoring and accountability entered the conversation, and unlike in Ireland, accountability came to the forefront. When we published the UK data, they reacted, improved, and did better. This is what happens when bias is put to question and those in power answer with the will to do better. It is that simple. Not rocket science.
By 2024, women had overtaken men – for the first time since our analysis began – in our UK Top 100 radio airplay chart report. This shift was not symbolic. It was reflected in the 2026 Brit Award nominations, 70% of which went to women artists. There is that ecosystem in full correlated proof. A year earlier, several female artists were cited in UK industry reports to significantly have contributed to reaching a historic £1.57 billion in revenue.
Making equality matter
The lesson is clear. Change does not occur because attitudes soften. It occurs when disparities are measured, published, and repeated back to institutions until they either act or defend the imbalance.
The implications extend beyond radio. Streaming platforms are often described as neutral systems where music succeeds based on listener choice. In reality, however, recommendation algorithms learn from historical listening patterns. When past exposure disproportionately favors male artists, those patterns are reproduced through automated recommendation systems. Without deliberate intervention, inequality becomes embedded in code.
Data alone does not resolve inequality. What it does is remove plausible deniability.
So what happens next?
Behind every percentage point in these datasets is an artist trying to build a career. Behind every absence is a voice that could have shaped cultural memory but was never given the same exposure.
If cultural institutions are serious about equality, representation must be treated as a measurable performance indicator. Broadcasters and festivals should publish annual gender data on programming, bookings, and leadership. Public funding should be linked to demonstrable progress. And the decision-making structures that shape playlists and line-ups must become more representative themselves.
Radio still matters because it shapes familiarity. Familiarity shapes careers. And careers shape cultural history.
Why Not Her? began as a question. After six years of evidence, it has become a diagnosis. Once silence is quantified, it stops appearing accidental. It becomes a choice. The question for the music industry is no longer whether the imbalance exists. It is what it chooses to do next.
