Soundtrack

French Radio and More Serendipity on the road

On French radio and familiar errands

We rented a small car for the week. Not for a road trip—just errands. That’s how I know we live here now.

TL;DR: jump to the bottom for some cool French radio choices

We run around. Take care of a few things. Visit places you can’t easily reach without a car, including some far-flung French Thrifty Marts—our catch-all term for secondhand shops.

When we drive, we listen to the radio. This didn’t used to feel notable, but now analog radio feels like a break. Charming. France has great stations.

Whatever comes through the dial. No playlists. No algorithms. Songs we didn’t choose. Discovery. Losing a station as you drift out of range. It’s nice.

Cities fall away fast here. Traffic gives way to a single-lane road, then a tractor. Then a chapel. Bread, gas, vineyards, a big-box store, cows. Thrifty marts in the countryside. More cows.

This piece is about radio, but really it’s about routine—how ordinary days in France are stitched together by sound, movement, and small detours. About giving up control and finding something better in the noise.

Stations are below.
First, take the drive.

touch that dial

We don’t own a car here and haven’t felt the need to buy one just yet. The small Fiat is a fun car to drive for a week, but I would never want to own this thing.

It’s fine on flat roads, but overwhelmed by hills, even inclines. It takes speed bumps really, really badly. I never really noticed how many we have around here.

We don’t rent cars often, maybe once a season, so it’s become a kind of marker of how familiar we’ve become with where we live.

What used to feel like exploration now feels like routine.

static and signal

We need a little less algorithm in our lives.

Most of the stations we listen to here still have actual DJs. People picking records. That feels almost radical now, especially if you grew up with American radio. DJs have become a rarity, replaced by automated programming and endless optimization, which explains why so many stations sound the same.

trust your DJ

With radio, you give up a bit of control. You hear someone else’s idea of what should come next. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

But when it does, it feels like a great discovery.

Static, signal, a voice, sometimes a song you don’t like. It’s a risk.

Like walking into a used book store, I forget how I miss radio until I start listening again.

Tell someone to turn on the radio! It’s fun.

French Radio Stations

France also has programmed radio stations and yes, they have several that ~~suck~~ aren’t to my personal taste.

If you like some of the music I write about here, these stations are some of my regular listening and a great way to break out of your own personal music algorithms.

If you’re in France, you can find them on your dial.

If you have a radio..

FIP (95.7 FM)

Probably the station we listen to most.

French jazz. Turkish psych. Nina Simone. I once heard Gainsbourg’s “L’Hôtel Particulier” while we were crawling behind a tractor in Dordogne and it added to the moment somehow. That and the scent of French manure.

SUN – Le Son Unique (93.0 FM)

A little hipster-y without being intolerable. I hear this station a lot in thrift stores and charity shops, or at least that how it seems.

Prun’ (92.0 FM)

Started as student radio and still has truly eclectic programming from hip hop, to jazz, experimental stuff, new and old. Good radio shows and podcasts for discovering niche genres.

Jet FM (91.2 FM)

Good general listening. I really like La Baraque à Galettes, which often features guest and niche DJ sets.

L’hôtel particulier Serge Gainsbourg (1973)

Routine, detours

We live here. Sometimes that just means errands.

In all the “Living in France” blogs I’ve read, I’ve never seen anyone write about buying caulk and a caulk gun (du mastic et un pistolet), but it’s still something you have to do. No one ever romanticized sealing the tub.

We stop at the big square-box hardware stores because they’re useful. I don’t need a cultural experience to buy hardware, even if it does turn into a vocabulary lesson.

Along the way, I’ve started adding small detours. There’s often a château nearby, or an old religious building—interesting enough to poke around for a few minutes on the way to the post office. Sometimes we find a brocante, or more rarely a vide maison, literally “empty the house.” France doesn’t really have a yard-sale culture, but it’s starting to show up.

The lower end

I’ve been hunting for a vintage radio for the house. A heavy one. Wooden case. A knob that clicks and takes a minute to warm up. Something that hums when it’s on. It’s on the errand list for this week.

Around the city, the dial usually lands on FIP, SUN, or Prun’, depending on the stretch of road—or whether the DJ gets too talky.

All of them are mostly on the lower end of the band, which is where the better stations in New York are as well.