Something of a collector’s item can be heard on Tuesday’s edition of The Last Word (Today FM, weekdays) as Matt Cooper gets his letters in a twist. During his weekly technology slot with Andy O’Donoghue, Cooper discusses the spectacular collapse of the crypto-currency exchange “FXT”, only to be corrected by his guest. “Well, FTX,” O’Donoghue says, by way of a gentle nudge. The host laughs off his error, but it nonetheless grabs the attention: rare is the occasion when Cooper FX up, so to speak.
That such a minor slip-up is even notable testifies to the steady, assured manner in which Cooper has helmed The Last Word. The former Sunday Tribune editor may have seemed an unusual choice when he took over the slot from the flamboyantly iconoclastic Eamon Dunphy, in early 2003, but, nearly 20 years on, he has become an almost immutable fixture on the airwaves. He may not always be the most scintillating of broadcasters, but with his casually composed presence he has outlasted a succession of noisier drivetime rivals, from George Hook to Ivan Yates.
If it’s tempting to characterise Matt Cooper as the quiet man of Irish talk radio, the reliably plodding tortoise underestimated by the flashy hares, it doesn’t tell the whole story
Yet if it’s tempting to characterise Cooper as the quiet man of Irish talk radio, the reliably plodding tortoise underestimated by the flashy hares, it doesn’t tell the whole story. As his item on FTX shows, the host brings an understated irreverence and intelligent accessibility to complex issues, with illuminating effects. After Andy O’Donoghue outlines (in commendably clear fashion) the murky machinations that led to the crypto exchange’s sudden implosion, Cooper neatly sums up this seemingly opaque story in layman’s terms. “That sounds like an old-fashioned run on the banks,” he observes, with a lilt in his voice. “A bit of a Ponzi scheme.”
He really comes alive during his regular slot on US politics with the journalists Marion McKeone and Cal Thomas. Though ostensibly the neutral moderator between the liberal McKeon and the conservative Thomas, Cooper often excitedly jumps in to offer his own take. On Wednesday, after listening to Donald Trump’s pessimistically toned speech to announce his White House candidacy, the host cannot hide his disdain: “What a downer!” Thomas, an old-fashioned conservative rather than a Maga wingnut, sounds equally depressed at the prospect of another Trump election run, though he shares the former US president’s concern at rising crime.
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As Thomas cites everything from fatal mass stabbings to people being randomly pushed under trains, Cooper wickedly picks out a telling thread in his guest’s litany of outrage: “Cal, you’re mentioning all the non-gun murders.” It’s typical of the lively atmosphere that pervades the discussion. Buoyed by the trio’s expertise and collective chemistry, it’s the most dependably insightful slot on American politics around, right down to the predictable partisan jousting.
Cooper still projects the persona of the dispassionate inquisitor as required. When Minister of State Jack Chambers appears on the show to promote the joint Ireland-UK bid for the Euro 2028 football finals, he is peppered with awkward questions. By the time the host has finished quizzing the Minister on the dubious economic benefits of staging the tournament or the wisdom of sinking huge sums into a one-off event rather than investing in grassroots soccer, the proposal appears more of a quixotic quest. The fact that the encounter lacks the whiff of cordite that marks interviews by his more confrontational counterparts on RTÉ Radio 1′s Drivetime only underlines the effectiveness of Cooper’s tenaciously focused approach.
Meanwhile, he sounds comfortable when dealing with cultural issues. Just as well, for there are quite a few: on Wednesday alone he talks to the author Emily Hourican and the film director Frank Berry, before chatting with the broadcaster Maia Dunphy in the Culture Club slot. Though no highbrow aesthete, Cooper covers artistic matters with the same lightly worn confidence that he displays when dealing with politics, business or sport. Given all this, his longevity should come as no surprise, nor his ratings: though his numbers recently took a dip (in common with most radio shows), he has the largest listenership on commercial radio in his time slot. He may not be splashy, but make no mistake, Cooper is a formidable broadcaster.
An elegiac ambience permeates Sunday with Miriam (RTÉ Radio 1), as Miriam O’Callaghan speaks to John Boorman, who is preparing to leave Ireland after more than 50 years here. The legendary film director, who turns 90 next year, is by turns reflective, witty and astute as he describes finding his home in Annamoe, in Co Wicklow (“I came here by accident, really”), and recalls his childhood during Blitz-era London (“We all had collections of shrapnel”).
Miriam O’Callaghan’s question to John Boorman about whether he is afraid of death elicits a mournfully honest reply: ‘I’ve been here long enough’
Though conducted by phone, it shapes up to be a memorable encounter, with Boorman responding nicely to O’Callaghan’s characteristically emollient questioning. But the flow is interrupted as the likes of the actor Brendan Gleeson and U2′s manager, Paul McGuinness, join the conversation to pay tribute to the departing director. The contributions are heartfelt – Gleeson warmly remembers the director’s “mentoring” – though at times it sounds more like an awkward conference call than a chatshow.
For all that, it’s an affecting piece of radio. If Boorman occasionally sounds tentative – he is understandably reserved when the host brings up the death of his daughter Telsche – he grows more expansive when discussing his life in filmmaking. (“Lee Marvin said to me, ‘Remember, when that camera’s rolling, it’s just you and me.’”) And if O’Callaghan remains the master of the softball interview – “Do you feel you’ve been lucky in your life?” – her query about whether her guest is afraid of death elicits a mournfully honest reply: “I’ve been here long enough.” As the interview winds down, the listener is left wishing Boorman had more time to talk. As it is, it’s a pleasure to hear him bid a wistful farewell to his adopted homeland.
