Gentle Cheerleading from the Left of the Dial: 42 Pitches for Noncommercial Radio DJs

It’s fundraising season again.

Maybe your station used to have a staffer who handed you a tidy pitchbook—full of “listener-supported excellence” and “community-powered media” in that safe, sleepy tone borrowed from public broadcasting and toothpaste ads. Maybe that person is not around this time. Maybe now you’re being told to “pitch from the heart,” with no script, no net, and a control board held together by masking tape and willpower.

You’ve already eaten a lifetime’s worth of cardboard. You know the copy: bloated, beige, and full of phrases that sound great on a grant application but land like a brick on the airwaves. You’ve read it because you had to. Because the lights don’t stay on otherwise. But it never felt good coming out of your mouth.

So here’s something different.

42 short donation pitches—written for the kind of person who still believes in what noncommercial radio can be, even when it’s barely scraping by. These are for genre nerds, vinyl haunters, midnight freakout curators, and community DJs keeping strange signals alive. They’re low-pressure. Low-gloss. High-trust. Meant to slip between songs without making you cringe as much.

Use them straight. Edit them to your voice. Leave them taped to the booth wall or tucked into your crate. Pass them along to other DJs who are burnt out but still burning.

Because if you’re still making radio in this moment—in this economy, this media climate, this state of things—then you already know:

• It’s not about selling a product. It’s about keeping a signal alive.
• And sometimes, all it takes is an honest sentence (or a few) to do that.

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1. If your local station has ever made your day better—maybe it’s happening right now—consider tossing a few bucks our way. We’re listener-powered, and right now we need a little boost to keep the music flowing.

2. Yeah, we know. It’s a weird time to ask for donations. But we also know that local, independent radio only exists because folks like you keep showing up for it. If you can, help us keep showing up for you.

3. We get it—money’s tight, vibes are weird, and everything costs more. But your local station stays weird, local, and alive because you make space for it. If you’ve got $5 or $10 to spare, it really, truly helps.

4. In a world of algorithms, we’re still handpicking every track. If that matters to you, support the humans behind the dial. Go to your local station's donation page and chip in what you can.

5. This station doesn’t run on ads—it runs on community. That means you. If you love what you’re hearing, support it: your local station's donation page.

6. If a song we played this week made you stop, made you smile, made you feel something—consider that a signal. Help us keep sending them. your local station's donation page.

7. Okay, full disclosure: I hate asking for money. But I love this station. If you do too, let’s both do something uncomfortable—me asking, you giving—so we can keep doing what we do love: playing great music.

8. Community radio means you don’t have to love every show. But behind each one is a real person who loves what they do. And believe it or not, we love each other, too—even the emo DJ. Support that strange little miracle: your local station's donation page.

9. One of the best things about your local station? It’s like sharing a house with twenty music nerds who all decorate differently—but somehow it works. If you’ve ever felt at home here, even in just one room, help us keep the lights on. your local station's donation page.

10. We had an all-hands meeting recently. Got to hang out with the other DJs. Turns out… they’re great. Kind, curious, passionate about what they play. That’s what you’re supporting when you donate—this unlikely, beautiful crew of audio oddballs.

11. Maybe you don’t listen to the goth hour, and maybe the goth hour DJ doesn’t tune in for morning jazz. But we still show up for each other, and we’re all here for you. That’s community radio. Support it if you can: your local station's donation page.

12. What I love about your local station is that even if we don’t share the same playlists, we still share something real. We care about the music. We care about each other. If that sounds like something worth saving, help us do it. your local station's donation page.

13. I know ‘support community radio’ can sound like ad copy. But here’s what it means to me: spending hours finding music that feels true, and sending it out into the dark, hoping someone out there feels it too. If you do, support it. your local station's donation page.

14. Every set is a little note in a bottle. You might never meet the DJ, but they made that playlist for you. And they do it for free, with love, every week. Help keep that signal alive. your local station's donation page.

15. Community radio isn’t just a playlist—it’s someone’s time, money, memory, and maybe even heartbreak, stitched together into sound. If that’s ever hit you just right, consider giving back. your local station's donation page.

16. There’s a reason we keep doing this—for the joy, sure. But also for the strange kind of connection that radio still makes possible. Real people. Real music. Real weirdos. All here. All yours. Help keep it going: your local station's donation page.

17. Behind every weird, wonderful show is a person who cares. Not just about their music, but about this shared space we call community radio. That’s community. Not a slogan—just people showing up for each other. If you can, show up too: your local station's donation page.

18. I try not to talk over the music too much. But I do want to say this—if you’ve ever found something here that helped you through, consider helping us through. your local station's donation page.

19. Most of us aren’t paid to do this. We’re here because we believe in it. We put care into every set. If you’ve ever felt that—really felt it—we’d be grateful for your support. your local station's donation page.

20. Sometimes I forget anyone’s out there. But then a message comes through, or a familiar name pops up during pledge week, and I remember why this matters. Thanks for listening. If you’re able to, your local station's donation page.

21. Each show is a little love letter. Maybe you don’t hear all of them, but if one ever made its way to you—this is your chance to write back. your local station's donation page.

22. I don’t love asking for money. But I do love this station. And if you do too—if it’s helped you feel more grounded, more seen, more connected—please consider donating. your local station's donation page.

23. I've read plenty of donation copy in the past. But this isn’t copy. This is me, saying I believe in what we’re building here. And if you believe in it too, I hope you’ll help us keep going. your local station's donation page.

24. No ad breaks here. Just this: we need your help. your local station's donation page.

25. I make this show for you. If you’re out there, and it means something—send something back. your local station's donation page.

26. Community radio. No ads. No algorithm. Just us. That’s it. your local station's donation page.

27. You know that bloated pitch we’re supposed to read? Yeah, I’m skipping that. Instead: this station runs on people like you. If you can help, please do. your local station's donation page.

28. No scripts. Just sound. We’re here because you are too. Support it if you can. your local station's donation page.

29. This space is usually full of slop. Here’s something better: your local station's donation page.

30. If this show has ever been there for you—consider being there for us. your local station's donation page.

31. We were told to pitch from the heart. Honestly? Mine’s tired. But it still beats for this station. If yours does too, your local station's donation page.

32. No pitch book this time. No script. Just this: I care about this station. And if you do too, we could really use your help. your local station's donation page.

33. The email said ‘pitch from the heart.’ I almost pitched from the gallbladder. But here's the truth: we need support. Real support. If you can, your local station's donation page.

34. Some folks have been laid off. Some are holding the pieces. But we’re still here. Still making radio. Help us stay on air—your local station's donation page.

35. Pitch from the heart, they said. Mine’s got some scar tissue, but it’s still in it. If you are too, we’d be grateful. your local station's donation page.

36. I’d rather play you another track than make a pitch. But we need help. So here it is: if you can, please give. your local station's donation page.

37. It’s a weird time, and a hard one. But we’re still here. Still making something worth tuning in for. If that means something to you, we’d be grateful for your support. your local station's donation page.

38. The station asked us to speak from the heart. For me, that means saying: I believe in what we’re doing here. If you do too—if this frequency feels like home—please consider supporting it. your local station's donation page.

39. There’s no pre-written pitch this time. Just us. If this station has ever made you feel more connected, more grounded, more like yourself—this is the moment to give back. your local station's donation page.

40. Even without a script, or a safety net, we’re here. The studio light is still on. And if you want it to stay that way—if you want this to keep existing—please, your local station's donation page.

41. They told us to pitch from the heart. Honestly, this station is my heart—scratched records and all. If it’s been part of yours, too, now’s the time. your local station's donation page.

42. This doesn’t have to be polished. Maybe it’s enough to say: we care about what we do, and we hope it’s mattered to you. If it has, we’d be honored by your support. your local station's donation page.