HE'S heard before he's

seen. The velvety, Middle-

England tones that

grandly announced No 1 in the pop charts to radio fans hovers above the clatter of Glaswegian-speak in the busy city-centre bar.

Mark Goodier, voice of the Radio 1 chart countdown for more than a decade and a nice guy in a profession awash with egos, plumps himself on a couch beside us, and says: ''London is where I live, but Glasgow is home. My wife's born and bred here, it's the city where we met.''

He's wearing a crumpled dark

suit, checked shirt, and his spiky hair is slightly ruffled. He looks like a comfy geography teacher these

days, but to those of us who remember Top of the Pops circa 1990 he's easily recognisable.

Late last year he swopped Robbie Williams for Vaughn Williams and joined Classic FM. Amid disappointing ratings and rumours that he

was getting too old for Radio 1, a

twentysomething upstart called Wes Butters had became his replacement. Butters, an unknown, proceeded to make hearty jokes to the press about his predecessor being a nice old man. Didn't he know he was deriding the first DJ to play the Happy Mondays to the masses?

The attitude must have been galling to Goodier, 42, who prided himself on showcasing indie pop

acts before it was fashionable to do so, but he just smiles and nods like

a patient uncle.

''You know what? It's fine. I was going to leave the station anyway. I think 15 years in one place is quite enough. I actually know Wes. He can say what he likes, I really don't care.

''In a high-profile radio job people sometimes forget how lucky they

are to be there. I wanted to be on Radio 1 since I was 11. I think I got to do every show, including the breakfast show and champion bands on the evening sessions and it was fantastic. You can't expect to have a job for life and if you do you're probably not challenging yourself enough.''

So, does he think Radio 1 with it's obsession with the youth market is working?

Tiptoeing through his answer

he says: ''All stations go through peaks and troughs and if you look at their audience figures you could conclude it's not the best of times. If I was in charge I perhaps wouldn't be doing the same things, but I'm not, and it's easy for people on the out-side to have opinions. If you look at Radio 2's success broadcasting to a wider audience rather than narrow casting has worked.''

I ask about his legendary spats with Nicky Campbell while at the station - a broadcasting experience which became horribly compulsive. Goodier's show came on after Campbell's and, as they did their

handover, you could hear the contempt in the Scot's voice as he tried increasingly to make his amiable

colleague sound stupid. Eventually the encounters were stopped by

programme bosses.

''There was a tension between

us,'' Goodier admits grudgingly,

''but I talk to him quite regularly

now. He has a great talent. He and

I came from a different area of broadcasting and Nicky is very competitive. Actually, now I really like him. But for a while, yeah, we weren't best of mates.''

It becomes clear that the Mr Nice of radio is just that and rather frustratingly doesn't have a deeply negative word to say about anyone. ''I never was one of life's rebels,'' he says.

For a nice fellow, however, he also seems to have the last laugh. He's prolific to say the least. He now presents programmes for Radio 2 and Classic FM, as well as counting down the Smash Hits chart for commercial radio. He also runs Wise Buddah - a group of companies that take in radio production, music production, and publishing.

He is in Scotland today to represent fledgling radio proposal Smooth FM as a non-executive director.

Aiming at the over-45 audience it

is one of 11 stations fiercely competing for the first commercial radio licence to become available in the city in four years.

The new arrival chosen in the autumn, will be broadcast to the Greater Glasgow area will join

an already buoyant marketplace fighting for listeners against established independent stations including Clyde 1, QFM, and Beat 106. Glasgow has a potential audience of 1.8 million and 65% of listeners tune into commercial outfits, so everyone wants to win.

Meanwhile the Radio Authority - which will hand out the new licence - has warned the 11 competitors they have to work hard stressing that the new station will have to ''broaden the choice for viewers'' and offer Glaswegians something different.

This is no problem, according to Goodier, who feels that the over-40s music lovers want something they can relate to.

''Although this is the generation that invented pop and rock culture, it often feels ignored by existing radio stations. People aren't ageing the same way they used to and are buying music, going to movies, and touring the world into their sixties -

my parents are active at 67 and 72. People don't stop at 18.''

Goodier, born in Rhodesia, now

Zimbabwe, moved with his family to Edinburgh, where he went to George Heriot's school. His love of music began at the age of 12 when he played the cello and double bass as a

member of the Edinburgh Youth Orchestra. He stayed with his

mother, a nursery teacher, and

father, a conservationist, while try-

ing to break into DJ-ing. He joined Radio Clyde in 1981 for five years after being hired by Richard Park - now better known for Fame Academy - and prided himself in showcasing unknown bands on air. He also met his wife, Jacqueline, while in the city.

''I had digs in Pollokshields and, not being a great cook, I would go to the Granary pub in Shawlands for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Jacqueline worked there. It wasn't exactly love at first sight. It was a kind of

love across the bar, but it's been

a very good 17 years. We were up just a while ago for a family party in Arran. My mother-in-law lives in Glasgow and we bring the children up here often. ''

The couple have three children Hannah, 11, Jaimie, nine, and Grace, four, and all live at the family home in north London.

So, as the years roll by, will the former wizard of the airwaves find himself DJ-ing at local weddings and birthday parties? Or will it take his kids to tell him to stop being so embarrassing and retire.

''I'm actually doing more broadcasting the older I get and I still love it,'' he says. ''I've survived, I think, because I've always worked hard and never got particularly egoed out. As for the kids, just recently I found a tape of me presenting Top of the

Pops and showed it to Jamie. I always thought I was rubbish on telly and never pursued that avenue.

''Anyway, my son recognised the show straight away and was utterly shocked when he saw me on it. He said 'I knew you did the charts but Top of the Pops? that is so cool'.'' Goodier, the cool dad, is positively beaming at the thought.