Every Turkish province has a number, assigned alphabetically back in 1962 and stamped onto every license plate registered there ever since. İzmir's number is 35, and over six decades it stopped being a bureaucratic code and became a genuine badge of local pride, the kind of number locals put on t-shirts and bumper stickers just to say where they are from. Radyo 35 took that civic shorthand and built a radio station around it.
Launched in the mid-1990s and broadcasting on 89.0 FM from Balçova, on İzmir's Aegean coast, Radyo 35 is run by the Demirdöğen Şirketler Grubu and has spent three decades serving the city with a Turkish pop format built around the phrase "Her Zaman En İyisi," always the best. The name choice was never subtle. In a country where every city could claim a license plate number, İzmir's 35 carries an outsized weight, a coastal, cosmopolitan identity distinct from Istanbul's 34 or Ankara's 06, and a station built to represent that specific identity on the dial made the connection explicit from day one.
The station's regional focus has kept it centered on İzmir and its surrounding province rather than chasing a national footprint, a decision that suits a city with its own distinct musical taste. İzmir's Aegean identity leans toward a lighter, more Mediterranean take on Turkish pop than the arabesque-heavy sound that dominates much of central and eastern Turkey, and Radyo 35's playlist of contemporary hits and Türkçe pop favorites reflects that regional preference back to its own audience.
Three decades on 89.0 FM is not a small achievement for a regional broadcaster competing against national networks with far bigger budgets, and Radyo 35 has managed it by staying exactly what its name promises, a station that belongs to İzmir specifically rather than trying to be everything to everyone.
For listeners who carry that 35 with pride, or anyone curious what a genuinely local Turkish pop station sounds like away from the national giants, Radyo 35 offers a straightforward pitch: the best of Türkçe pop, filtered through a city that has spent sixty years turning a license plate number into an identity.