(Peter Hilgendorf and Andrew Franks, USA, 2026, 83 minutes)
And there goes the last DJ
Who plays what he wants to play
--Tom Petty, "The Last DJ" (2002)
I've been listening to Kevin Cole on KEXP since he first hit the airwaves.
Before that, I was involved with the station as a disc jockey, promotions director, music director, and host of the jazz show, Straight No Chaser--though not all at the same time. Our tenures did not overlap, though I've run into him a few times over the years. Radio people always find each other in the end, even if I've been out of the game for years, and he's still in it.
As you can probably tell, the profile of a DJ and director of programming from a station I've been listening to since I moved to Seattle in 1988 is bound to hit home, particularly one with which I was once associated.
A decade later, after gigs at Cellophane Square and Microsoft, I got a job at Amazon, and who was in my orientation group--though we worked in different departments--but Kevin Cole. His reputation as a mover and shaker at Minneapolis's Rev 105 preceded him, and I knew exactly who he was. Consequently, I wasn't completely surprised when he segued to KEXP.
Which brings me to Radioheart: The Drive and Times of DJ Kevin Cole, Pete Hilgendorf's first full-length foray into filmmaking alongside Andrew Franks, an experienced director, editor, and cinematographer (I've also met Pete, and even wrote about a few of the bands he signed in his indie label days).
They begin at the beginning with a look at Kevin's life and career in Minneapolis, and they've lined up some heavy hitters: Bob Mould, Jimmy Jam, Kristin Hersh, Twin/Tone co-founder Peter Jesperson--you name it.
Like many of us who moved into commercial radio, Kevin started out as a college radio DJ and record store worker, and when he got the chance to spin records at First Avenue in the fall of 1978, he took it, but it was trial by fire for a self-described rock guy hired to make people dance, so he started by playing disco before incorporating punk, post-punk, and other styles.
Kevin has mentioned this often on KEXP, and why not. As DJ bragging rights go, it doesn't get much better. (For what it's worth, I sang backup in a one-shot band, put together by my dad's softball buddies, that opened for Prince at San Francisco's Castro Street Fair, circa 1981's Controversy.)
In his more humble record store days, Kevin hit it off with music aficionado Shawn Stewart (below), who stuck by him even while he was overindulging in cocaine and amphetamines to keep up his breakneck pace, but he would get clean in 1988 and stay clean, and they've been together ever since.
In 1994, Kevin left First Ave to found Rev 105–short for Revolution Radio–and his career as a radio innovator was born. He hired Shawn, among other "relatable, accessible" talents (those of you in Seattle may also remember her from The Mountain and KIRO), but three years later, it was over.
Long story short: radio is a tough business. Though I left of my own volition after working at five different stations in Alaska and Washington, I don't miss the behind-the-scenes machinations and corporate shenanigans, even if I miss the playing-music part.
After Rev 105 came to an end, Kevin and Shawn relocated to Seattle where he helped to launch Amazon's music store. Though this might seem like a sellout move, and kind of was, it allowed him to make a new start. He was joined by other music veterans, like writer/publisher Mike McGonigal of Maggot Brain--surely the last person I would describe as a sellout--and both would go on to less mainstream ventures in the years to come.
Most significantly, in Kevin's case: listener-powered KCMU 90.3 FM. I started volunteering a year after Tom Mara, who would become the station's executive director before retiring in 2022, but I left six years before Kevin came aboard. In 1988, DJs weren't paid. Nor were program, promotions, production, or music directors. That had changed by the time Kevin arrived.
He helped the station to become KEXP, a pioneer in the streaming space that now spans the globe (personally, I consult the real-time playlist often). He also contributed to the realization of remote broadcasts from far-flung locales, among other innovations. The high-tech Seattle Center broadcaster of today has little in common with the low-tech UW one of the past.
Though Radioheart is a film about music, it's also a film about hair! After experimenting with a few different styles, Kevin settled on his current long-haired look, which is as much a part of his identity as his comforting voice. The only difference now is the gray, but it's fun to watch the evolution.
And it seems likely that his t-shirt collection is nearly as robust as his record collection, which reminded me of Robert Christgau's music and book shelves in Matty Wishnow's documentary, The Last Critic (no Seattle dates yet, so I'm thankful I was able to catch a screening in Olympia). The two films would make for a good double bill, especially in Seattle and Minneapolis.
Whether Radioheart will attract as much attention outside of these cities, I couldn't say, but there's appeal here for anyone interested in alternative music and radio, particularly in the transition from analog to digital. Just like record stores and music magazines, many community-oriented stations, like Rev 105, have fallen by the wayside over the years, but KEXP has kept plugging away through thick and thin--I left during an especially thin time.
A cynic might say that the film plays like an extended promo reel for the man and the station, and they wouldn't be wrong, but I'm not so sure that's a bad thing, not least when the central subject is anything but cynical.
The Stranger's SIFF review also notes that there's no mention of streaming's less advantageous effects. Fair point. I believe that that's outside the scope of this profile, but it isn't a small thing--especially to your average musician.
To his credit, Kevin appears to have had the best of intentions in focusing on access. I don't think he could have predicted the damage Spotify would inflict--not least its $700m investment in AI-powered drone weaponry.
At heart–pun intended–the co-directors have made a film about someone with whom you'll enjoy spending time, especially if you share Kevin's interests. Beyond the candid interviews with their subject and those who know him best, they've assembled countless photographs, personal snapshots, posters, promo spots, television segments--some from my employer, KCTS 9/Cascade PBS--and even entries from Kevin's journals.
My attraction to KCMU in the first place was rooted in the belief that every kind of music was valid, and not just the obvious alt-rock suspects (KCMU had already transitioned from college to public by the time I got there).
Kevin has brought that belief with him everywhere he's gone--from Minneapolis to Seattle to Reykjavik--and that's absolutely worth celebrating, so thanks to Kevin Cole for keeping the faith for over 50 years, and to Pete Hilgendorf and Andrew Franks for honoring that passion with such care.
Click here for SIFF 2026 Dispatch #1, here for #2, and here for #3.
Radioheart: The Drive and Times of DJ Kevin Cole plays Tues, May 12, 6:30pm; Fri, May 15, 3:30pm; and Sun, May 17, 8pm at the Uptown. Pete Hilgendorf, Andrew Franks, Producer Rebecca Staffel, and Kevin Cole scheduled to attend. Images: KEXP (Kevin by Charina Pitzel and on RSD 2015), Radioheart stills and screen shots (Kevin in B&W, with Shawn, and with crazy hair), and Kurt Schlosser / GeekWire (Kevin in the racks).
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