At Friday Marketing Agency, we don’t just create content — we tell stories that move people. Our work travels across borders. We’re a worldwide company with clients from Europe, Africa, Latin America, New York, and other parts of the U.S. We’re proud to create digital content that resonates with people, wherever they are. We work with brands from around the world, building trust and transforming ideas into visuals, words, and experiences that leave a lasting impression.
We’re a group of creatives, strategists, and marketing lovers who know how to find the right audience, hit the right tone, and turn content into results. We believe in real strategies, honest creativity, and smart targeting — and we have the experience to prove it.
We know that people connect through stories. And long before social media ever existed, people were already finding ways to connect and share what they loved.
That’s what today’s article is about — a beautiful reminder of how human connection, even through music and late-night radio, created small communities that felt just as real as any online feed today.
Back in the late 1970s, in a small corner of Scotland, something special was happening. Teenagers were finding each other, not through apps or stories, but through radio waves.
There was a local station called Radio Forth, and it became more than just a place to hear music — it became a place to feel seen. The first song they ever played was January by a band called Pilot, who were local legends. It’s funny how certain songs can carry a whole period with them. If you know the line “Oh ho ho, it’s magic,” then you know what I mean.
For two girls — let’s call them Clare and her best friend — music wasn’t just sound, it was their identity. They were deep into Queen, then dove head-first into rock, metal, and everything in between. Saturdays meant second-hand record shops, digging through dusty covers, searching for treasure with just a few coins in their pockets.
Radio brought them together with others, too. There was a night-time show by a DJ named Chris John. Back then, if you wanted your favorite song played, you had to write a letter. Not an email. Not a DM. A real, handwritten letter. And people did it — over and over again.
Soon, regular names started popping up on the show: Lonesome Kate, Guinness, Eros, and more. Most of them used made-up names, inspired by rock lyrics or fantasy books. Clare’s friend was known as Snork Maiden, while Clare became Moonchild. It was all a bit magical.
This wasn’t just a radio show — it became a little world. People would meet at local pubs, shows, and clubs. They shared the same love for music and ended up sharing real friendships. Some even started dating. Some stayed friends for life.
There was no Instagram story to share these nights. No group chat. Just the music, the letters, and the shows.
Years later, when they were in their sixties, some of them got back together at a rock concert. The hair was different, the faces older, but the bond was still there. They laughed, raised their hands in the devil horns sign, and remembered what it was like to grow up before phones and Wi-Fi.
And that’s the magic. It wasn’t about the technology — it was about the feeling of being part of something. Of finding your people.
So next time you scroll through your feed, think about how far we’ve come — and how deep that human need for connection has always been.