KROQ’s Nicole Alvarez Leaving After 23 Years: “Staying Would Have Been a Slow Death” (Exclusive)

Longtime KROQ veteran Nicole Alvarez abruptly left the iconic Los Angeles radio station at the end of July, giving a brief goodbye during her final moments on air on July 30. It was a sudden change, and a notable shift after she’d spent the past two decades as a steady presence at the station through successes and the more recent tumult of the past few years.

Now Alvarez is breaking her silence, penning an emotional letter in The Holllywood Reporter about why she left, her hopes for the future of radio, and what’s on the horizon.

Audacy, which owns KROQ, declined to comment on Alvarez’s letter.

Like any great love story, this one is messy. It is not perfect, but it is real.

I never knew how it would end. I just knew that when it did, I would have to be the one to write the final chapter.

On September 1, 2003, I walked into The World Famous KROQ for my first day. I remember every detail, the smell of the parking lot asphalt, the pulse in my chest, and Tim Armstrong of Rancid standing there in his “Salvation” jacket. That moment felt like the start of the dream. I had somehow landed a job at what was arguably the most iconic radio station of all time. This was the place that helped launch The Ramones, U2, Depeche Mode, The Cure, Nirvana, and impressive roster of others. The soundtrack of your life probably passed through these call letters.

On July 30, 2025, I said my final words on air in a moment that was emotional, frenzied, and irreversible. I did not walk in that morning expecting it to be the end, but I felt something. A shift. A knowing. After a heated exchange with my boss, one that crossed a line no one could come back from, the air cracked open. Time stopped. And I heard Iggy Pop’s voice cut through the static like a liberation siren: “‘Cause I’m a punk rocker, yes I am.” That was my cue. I did my final break, walked out, and didn’t look back.  

I never got the chance to say a proper goodbye to the city and the listeners I will always love so much. That absence will weigh heavy on me forever.

It is worth saying that I love and respect my boss. He too is trying to navigate radio as it now exists under the corporate thumb and an ever-changing landscape. This is not about him. This is about something much larger. He who first hired me will always have a place in my heart.

I was just shy of my 23-year anniversary at KROQ, and that alone is a badge of honor. I outlasted trends, format disorientation, bosses, budget cuts, and even my own rebellious nature. I did it always as myself. I never dumbed it down or dialed it in. I stood for the music, for the misfits, for Los Angeles, and for the station.

Leaving KROQ is the hardest thing I have ever done. But staying would have been a slow death. After being disrespected by an executive known to do those types of things, I was done. So I lit my life on fire for something that matters more than anything, my integrity. This round, I was willing to bet on myself.  

I am never going to speak ill of KROQ. This isn’t about a station betraying me. It’s a story about what radio has become. About wanting more. About the way business is handled these days. 

The truth is, I had already outgrown what radio was allowed to be. This was the station that launched iconic musicians and gave a voice to the outcasts and visionaries of Southern California and beyond. Once a tastemaker, a cultural detonator, a lighthouse for the weird and wild, it has now become a spreadsheet. A machine run by research, not instinct. By caretakers who cling to titles, not passion.

There is more I could say that I won’t.  

I gave my whole heart to this brand. I turned down bigger offers to stay loyal. I defended the station through crises and controversies. When the pandemic hit and our legacy morning show was abruptly fired in a move that made us the most hated station in Los Angeles, I held the line. I gave the station my voice, my credibility, my name. I tried to glue it back together. It was hard to stand inside the house that raised you while it was burning to the ground. Still I stood. A lot of us did.  

Through it all, what mattered to me, was giving the music life. Even the  songs I didn’t particularly love. Even the ones we played to death. I focused on giving them context, soul, and a reason for people to hear them again. I wanted to make people feel something. That is what radio is supposed to do. I wanted to be a friend, good company. I wanted everyone to remember why it is that we love music.  

I had the privilege of working with some of the most talented people in the world. I got to be part of legendary events. I talked Los Angeles through championships, earthquakes, wildfires and soul-shaking loss. I got to be part of what many still believe is the greatest radio station of all time. 

KROQ still has a chance to remember who it is, what made it “world famous.” To take risks again. To matter. But it will require courage, not cowardice. Passion, not corporate approval.

I leave knowing I gave everything to our listeners, our artists and our culture. I also leave knowing that none of it mattered to the executives in the big offices. But that is not my burden to carry. That is theirs. It mattered to me.

I leave with KROQ in my heart. It was my honor to stand for it. Part of me always will.  

I started at KROQ under the greatest radio team that ever was. Kevin Weatherly, Lisa Worden and Gene Sandbloom. The holy trinity. I will always consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to have been there when it was untouchable.

To the artists, listeners, and colleagues I have crossed paths with, I hope I made you feel something. I hope I reminded you of your own talent. I hope I left a mark. I hope I helped you in some small way. Hell, I hope I even rattled you.  

Radio will always matter. In the right hands, it will always matter. To the executives suffocating it, it’s never too late to introduce humanity into the corporate narrative. I challenge you to play the game without selling your souls. Radio is not dying. You’re killing it. Just do better. 

As for my legacy, I hope it has everything to do with music, a girl can dream. KROQ taught me that a long time ago. I hope it remembers.