Radio gold? Dial 1-800-Internet.

"Every generation has to reinvent itself in a different way," to rebel in a way that offends the preceding generation, says Susan Solomon. The president and chief executive of radio syndicate SW Networks speaks from experience. A baby boomer, at 18 she married Gary "Chicken" Hirsh, the long-haired drummer of the 1960s rock band, Country Joe and the Fish, perhaps best remembered for entreating 400,000 attendees at Woodstock to help it spell out the king of four-letter words during a performance. This to the consternation of her parents, both of whom were classical musicians.

But sitting in her midtown Manhattan office, in a building astride New York's Harley-Davidson Cafe, a watering hole appointed with vintage hogs and studded leather jackets where entertainment types often mingle, Solomon is sizing up the future, not the past. In fact, she is outlining her plans to reinvent radio. In an era of multimedia and the information superhighway, many observers cast the medium as distinctly second-tier. But seizing convergence by the throat, Solomon is out to change that. Backed by Mickey Schulhof's Sony Corp. of America - which wholly owns SW - she is producing and distributing to stations nationwide a variety of music and talk programming. In a high-tech twist, she is driving her network onto the Internet, supporting shows with a smorgasbord of listener services and laying the groundwork for radio of the future - interactive radio broadcast via computer.

In the process, Solomon hopes to revitalize the business, restoring some of the luster of its golden age. Challenging the MTV generation, which craves spoonfed images from a screen, she aims to stage a "Theater of the Mind," an ambition underscored by SW's sobriquet, "The Radio Picture Co." Along with music from heavy metal to classical, SW will spotlight hip radio soap operas and serial adventures. The bits will conjure images, forcing listeners to use their imaginations, Solomon says, a dormant faculty that many youngsters equate with their parents' tales of penny candy, 10-mile hikes to school, and five-cent slabs of pie at the Automat.

"In the old days, listeners had only words and music to rely on. In some ways, that was more rewarding," says Solomon, who allows that she missed the era of "The Shadow" and other programs from radio's heyday, cutting her teeth instead on the likes of legendary New York rock jocks Murray "the K" and "Cousin Bruce" Morrow.

"It's like when you listened to baseball games on the radio as a kid," seeing the ballpark in your mind's eye, she continues, selecting a metaphor recently served up on the air by an SW talk-show host, former New York State Governor Mario Cuomo. "The MTV generation is the MTV generation. This generation has to be what's next."

Since its inception early last year, SW has epitomized the risks and volatility of the entertainment industry, in the spotlight recently because of the megamergers between Disney and Capital Cities/ABC, and Westinghouse and CBS. The fledgling company also illustrates the problems that crop up when elephants attempt to dance. Originally a joint venture between Sony America and the Warner Music Group - hence the "SW" moniker - Schulhof bought out his partners last March. Forbes originally estimated the capitalization of the venture at $25 million.

In watching the partnership dissolve, Solomon, herself a former Warner executive, caught a glimpse of the turmoil across the aisle that eventually would unseat WMG top gun Bob Morgado and several of his ranking lieutenants.

"We were interested in growing the business very aggressively, while they were preoccupied with internal issues," Solomon says. "And their mandate was much narrower; it was focused almost entirely on music. My orders (from Schulhof) were to create a broad-based entertainment business." Solomon adds that SW soon may take a minority partner - talks with prospective partners are underway. Rupert Murdoch's Fox Network is said to be sniffing around. An IPO is a goal at some point in the next few years.

Clearly, the Sony high command has lofty hopes for yearling SW. Though $14 billion Sony America helped its Japanese parent to secure a beachhead early in U.S. entertainment, its performance has been mixed. Music- and entertainment-related sales through CBS Records hit $8.7 billion in the latest fiscal year - Sony picked up the unit at a Larry Tisch fire sale in 1988 for $2 billion. But the company is smarting from the $3.2 billion loss it took on movie operations. With rivals fusing studios with networks, analysts say, Sony America remains somewhat disadvantaged in terms of distribution.

"Last year, Michael Eisner said that content is everything," Solomon says. "Then he cut the largest distribution deal in history," purchasing Cap Cities last month for $19 billion. The parable underscores a point: While SW won't be an Alaskan pipeline for Sony, its traditional radio, broadcast satellite, and digital cable venues are clearly intended to be more than a spigot. Aware of allegations in the press last year that a Schulhof-led investor group used its radio stations as a platform for Sony artists such as Michael Jackson, Solomon hastens to point out that SW's music jocks include performers from EMl, Polygram, and other recording companies. "Our producers and programmers have complete autonomy," she maintains. "You can't stealth-sell consumers. It's a quick way to turn them off."

Courtesy of its deep-pocket parent, SW hasn't hit the airwaves kicking and screaming. But there are formidable obstacles to success. SW is knocking on the door of a syndication business already dominated by a Big Three: Westwood One, along with the CBS and ABC radio networks, combine for 60 percent of the market. Moreover, while ad revenue in the industry jumped 16 percent in 1994 to $10.8 billion, according to the Radio Advertising Bureau, this year's growth rate is expected to slow to around 9 percent. Many analysts describe it as a mature business, arguing that far more explosive growth will come in other areas of multimedia.

On the flip side, talk radio is white hot, fueled by the success of conservative commentator Rush Limbaugh and shock-jock Howard Stern. Solomon will counter with a lineup anchored by liberal artifact Cuomo and professional loudmouth Alan Dershowitz, a member of the O.J. Simpson defense team. Broadcast niches such as hip-hop - "the language of the malls" and their preteen inhabitants - also will help SW tap new veins of profitability, Solomon says.

"The syndication business is fiercely competitive," says John Lund, president of Lund Consultants, a media specialist in Millbrae, CA. "But this is a business of creativity and marketing acumen. And when it comes to that, Sony is no slouch."

Like other syndicates, SW initially will derive most of its revenues through barter with affiliates: In exchange for programming, local affiliates rebate roughly one-half their advertising time to a network, which the network, in turn, sells to advertisers. Solomon also is seeking corporate sponsors for SW programs, the way companies such as Chevrolet and DuPont sponsored radio in the 1950s.

Already, Solomon has forged relationships with radio stations including WABC-AM in New York, and others in Boston, San Diego, and Milwaukee. But she won't simply slug it out with her opponents in the terrestrial trenches. Instead, she hopes to outwarp them in Netspace. Solomon's team is designing an environment in which listeners will be able to talk live both to on-the-air personalities and musical performers. SW's site on the World Wide Web (see graphic, above), which delivers sound bites, moving video, and inside dope on recording artists, is a busy place. Designed and maintained by a cadre of shaggy-chinned, twentysomethings in T-shirts, its cyberspace address is http://swnetworks.com. "Very hot," says 28-year-old Web Designer Brett Leveridge.

"We're planning for what the Internet will be like in five years," Solomon adds. Three-dimensional programming hooked into the Sony online umbrella. Fee-based audio on demand. The revenue windfall of sponsored, real-time rock events viewed on personal computer. Pearl Jam '97, brought to you by Budweiser and SW Networks. The site may place SW on a collision course with Viacom's MTV, which also has grand plans for its Net location.

What of conventional wisdom, which holds there's not yet enough traffic on the Net to generate profitability? "Companies that don't decide to do more [on line] will be left behind," Solomon says flatly.

"Lots of radio stations are on line," observes consultant Lund. "There's no reason a syndicate can't do the same. Down the road, there's plenty of opportunity."

True to the character of the business, Solomon peppers her speech with phrases such as "cool," "hip," and "jazzed." The nomenclature belies her background as an investment banker and attorney: A single mother at age 20 after divorcing the rock-and-roll drummer, Solomon went to college and on to finish law school.

Bristling with energy and ideas, she and her staff keep hours more typical of a Silicon Valley start-up than some "let's-do-lunch" competitors. Average 12 hours a day, often six days a week. "We left here at 11 p.m. last night," Solomon says. "They turn off the air at six o'clock and we all suffocate - six o'clock is half a day here. But I'm not a slave driver. People are here because they're turned on about what they're doing.

"There was a company outing we had planned," a reward for a year's worth of hard work, Solomon says. Turns out the destination will be the National Association of Broadcasters annual convention in New Orleans later this month. "Everyone wants to keep working," she says. "So that's exactly what we did.

"I made a remark once that's part of the SW culture," Solomon concludes with a chuckle. "Sleep is highly overrated."

RELATED ARTICLE: PROFILE

SUSAN L. SOLOMON PRESIDENT AND CEO SW NETWORKS

Parent company: Wholly owned by Sony Corp. of America; originally a joint venture between Sony and Warner Music Group.

Family: Husband, Paul Goldberger, chief culture correspondent, The New York Times. Three sons. New York City resident.

Past life: Formerly married to drummer of 1960s rock band, Country Joe and the Fish.

Leisure activities: Reading, tennis, gardening.

Preferred time machine destination: 1968.

Biggest regret: Failing to grab a piece of Nike Corp. initial public offering.

Most elusive goal: Time off.

Words of wisdom: Sleep is highly overrated.