BOOK REVIEW | As Gooding as it gets in the golden age of radio

Confessions of a Voice Artist by Malcolm Gooding, with Angus Douglas and Tim Sandham (Flyleaf)

So, full disclosure: I bought this book because of an ob-gyn. Well, my ob-gyn to be precise. You see, I birthed a human in 2020 and the doctor tasked with helping this journalist through the journey had a familiar-sounding surname: Gooding. I worked at Talk Radio 702 for several years as a rookie journalist, and Gooding's name rang a bell. When a colleague heard the person who would be bringing my child Earth-side was a Dr Gooding, he immediately said: “He must be related to Malcolm. Malcolm is the king of voiceovers.”

He was right. Malcolm Gooding is my ob-gyn’s dad. And yes, Gooding certainly is radio royalty. His lineage runs deep through the turbulent trajectory of SA during the late 1960s and 1970s. As the voice of numerous iconic radio and movie ads, Gooding became a household name to millions in this country. This was, after all, the time before telly. It was when families would gather around the radio on a Friday night and wait for the latest episode of Squad Cars. It was when ciggie ads still portrayed a glam life and playing “bad” music such as Led Zeppelin on your radio show was egregious. Gooding was an invisible, though not silent, presence during this time.

In his evergreen offering released back in 2020, which is also available as an audio book, Gooding brings to life what many refer to as the “golden age of radio”. It’s scattered with morsels of delicious information around his unique life that loyalists would certainly appreciate. Like that Squad Cars was very much a propaganda front for the apartheid government, the content being overseen by a police representative. He transports the reader back to the time when “they prowl the empty streets at night” and, with beautiful imagery, explains how the sound effects were created, how tape for recordings was limited and how the narration had to be told in one take.

Gooding’s life is extraordinary. As the “king of radio” he has lived so many unique experiences that they almost seem unfathomable. From being approached by a secret agent to ask whether his son would spy on fellow university students to inflaming Sean Connery by impersonating him, and MCing the trophy handover at the 1995 Rugby World Cup with a special Nelson Mandela moment, each chapter leaves you thirsty.

Perhaps the most poignant issue is Gooding acknowledging his privilege as a white man during apartheid in SA. From the outset he admits his success took place during a “dark” time in SA. On several occasions he gives examples of how he and some colleagues, in some subtle form, were defiant against the strong arm of the apartheid government. It’s these small acts and the acknowledgment of privilege that make this book even more real. And that’s the thing about Gooding. His realness is the best quality that emerges from the pages of his whirlwind life. He has erred and is fallible. He speaks about his ego when he voiced an SAA ad, demanding a discount because he was the voice of the national airline. (He got fired after that.) He recounts how he had a few too many glasses of wine, refusing to let his wife drive because #I’mAMan, and how he embarrassed his son in an altercation with another driver. Gooding says he is a firm believer in charm. But it’s really him being so authentic and unashamed about who he is that is probably his best asset and the reason this book, even if you grew up when TVs were around, is worth the purchase. And if you get the audio version, you'll have access to his voice all over again.

Gooding says when he was asked to write a book, it was difficult because his life was taking centre stage. Well, radio king, your life deserves to be on the podium. Also, now I know my ob-gyn threw tantrums as a toddler. Totally a conversation starter at the next appointment.