Why I Hate Your Podcast

Let’s say you’re a lawyer, and not only a lawyer, but a former federal prosecutor. Or let’s say you were a political consultant on the very highest level — the guy in the room when presidential candidates, or even presidents, made decisions. Or maybe you’re a journalist, with connections wide and deep.

These days, chances are you have a podcast, and you’re talking with some pretty heavy-duty people about some heavy-duty issues.

So why, on your podcast, when you invite listeners to send in questions via email, do you suddenly sound like a mom praising her two-year-old for his first independent poop?

“We, we always love it when people send us letters and” — carefully enunciated — “if we can, we might actually” — rising excitement — “read your letter on the podcast! So we have an” — more excitement — “email address and if you send us a note we’ll check it out, and maybe we can answer it” — ecstasy, even orgasm — “on the podcast!”

A short time later, inevitably, comes this: “Well we have lots and lots of great letters this week! Thank you so much for the letters you sent us! I think we can answer one or two …” And then: “… and we got this other great letter as well…”

You know what, we’re listening to a podcast about complex legal debates potentially involving the future of democracy. Guess what? We understand what a letter is. We understand how email works. We understand that since you are on the show right then, answering letters, that we’re able to send in a question as well. And we also understand that you might not get to it, that you might have too many, or that there are others on the same topic, or that you might not have enough time to get to it, or perhaps that you can get to it, but that you might be rushed and only have just a minute or two to discuss it, or that, gee, maybe you’ll just get to it next week, to name just a few of the extraordinarily banal slate of potentialities involving emailed questions I have heard so many podcast hosts articulate, with just that same excruciating detail, in just the past week or so.

A lot of big companies have sprung up, cobbling together rosters of talents. The production values are often decent. But the sad truth is, however charming and disarming, these people aren’t broadcasters. There doesn’t seem to be an infrastructure to help podcasts hosts learn how to be good at what they are doing.

I’m here to help. Here’s why I hate your podcast.

1.

You need to envision your audience, and set the tone of the podcast at their level, and maintain it there. This is why it’s so jarring to hear you explain something like how emailed letters work.

I think this originates in some dated ideas about drawing listeners in in an era of mass communication. Podcasts are different. They are specialized. For the vast majority if not all serious podcasts, there are exactly two types of people listening. Those who are your regular listeners, and those who are coming to you for the first time. The way to keep the second isn’t to talk to them like they are poodles.

Here’s what’s important, and it’s surprisingly missing from a lot of otherwise serious operations: Introduce the show properly, and explain who the hosts are. Give your new listeners the information they need at the top of the show:

“This is Widget Central, where we go in-depth, every week, on widget production in America and the world beyond. I’m the longtime executive editor of Widgets World dot com, and my cohost, Jane Doe, here, is the former CEO of International Widget Solutions and author of the book, ”Everything You Were Afraid To Ask About Widgets … But Wanted To Know."

Then move on. Your listeners are smart. They have either fortuitously tuned it to a world that will delight them, or made a wrong turn into a show they are never going to come back to again. They are either interested or not. Explaining what email is as if it’s still 1996 isn’t going to earn you a single listener.

And for your current listeners, they just don’t need to hear, week after week, your little riff on email. Just give your social media handles and your email address, in passing but carefully enunciated, at the beginning of the show, and again at the end, and otherwise shut up about email.

2.

We don’t need a one-minute-, or even thirty-second-long, intro. Give us a burst of music and then say hi and tell us the name of your podcast and what it’s about, to orient new listeners. Get this essential, but limited, job done and get down to business. I’m sure you’re proud of your little sound collage, but the thing is, your old listeners have heard it and may end up driving off the road or walking into traffic as they try to punch the jump-ahead button. And the new ones aren’t going to stay or go just based on your clever news or movie samples.

3.

Please don’t tell us that you “have a lot to get to this week.” Just … don’t.

4.

And once the show starts, please don’t tell us you’re excited to be there, excited about the news, excited about your guests, excited to get going, or excited about anything. “Excited” is by far the most frequently uttered word in the medium. Listening to podcasts these days, it seems like the hosts are in a constant and unalleviated state of excitement. You’re really not excited. You’re nervous is what you are, you haven’t done the necessary preparation, and you don’t know what else to say.

5.

Podcasting is a performative medium, whether you like it or not. You have to prepare for that performance.

Most podcasts begin with a few minutes of painful-to-listen-to impromptu banter amongst the hosts. I wish that they had a “skip intro” button a la Netflix so folks could just get to the substance of the show.

The solution to this is to think up something better to give listeners. This involves a thing called preparation. We don’t care what you did this weekend, particularly when it’s something along the lines of “I, um, gotta lot of things, ah, done, but, uh, yeah, really excited to be here.”

Instead, before the show, take 45 seconds — literally 45 seconds — to organize something interesting and original to say to start with your co-host. Like this: “OK, I’m going to mention your provocative piece in Widget World. Talk about it for 30 seconds and then tell me you thought my big Bluesky thread on A.I.-driven widget design was off base. I’ll defend it for 30 seconds and then let’s get into the show.”

That makes both of you look cool — without having to trumpet your own work.

Or how about this:

“OK, I’m going to ask you what you did this weekend, you say, 'OMG I binge-watched the new season of The Last of Us and was not prepared for the whole widget subplot.' I’ll say, 'Yeah I saw it as well’; let’s tell folks we’ll talk about it at the end of the show.'”

Those are both simple show beginnings that in various ways work to underscore your authority and the value of the show, rather than undermine it.

6.

In the meantime, don’t talk about the details of the quotidian happenstances of your current existence. We don’t care what time it is for you, or where you are, or, generally, “What’s happening.” We don’t care if you started recording your podcast, and then someone had technical difficulties, so you had to start over, or that you were going to do it at a certain time, but then changed your mind. As god is my witness, I’ve heard hosts dozens of times tell listeners that the show had been recorded at a different time that week, the difference sometimes being a matter of hours. Newsflash: No one cares!

We don’t care that you or any of your guests “just got in,” or “only have so much time.” We don’t care that you are at a hotel with bad wifi. Indeed, we don’t care where you are recording from generally, or where you are sitting. I was listening to a podcast recently where three or four really smart lawyers spent five minutes talking about how one of them was in a hotel room and had to hold her own microphone, or something, but she had a dog she often carried, so she had the strength to do it. We also don’t care about your observations about the other guests’ Zoom backgrounds or anything else. None of these things matter to your audience. Now, if you have something that is actually interesting about yourself you want to share — you have a new job, whatever — that’s a different thing. If you are talking about breaking news, sure: Let us know, briefly, when you are recording. The important thing is to just be professional and talk about substantive things.

7.

And by the way: You know that high-larious riff you’ve got going, about how you record your podcast at a certain time, but then news just always breaks right after you record the show, or maybe the next day, and then your partner says, chuckling, “Yeah, you cursed it!,” and then you say, “Well, what about that time you went on vacation and the news broke about this or that!,” and then someone says merrily, “Well, at least we know that such-and-such is going to happen next week right while we are recording!” and both of you just go on and on, giggling about how the universe has all these wackadoodle things going on just to make the life of a podcaster difficult?

Before you do that, consider how perhaps 75, or perhaps 10,075, other podcasters have done that already. This week.

8.

We also don’t care that you “were just talking about this before the show.” When you say that, you are in effect talking solely to the other person on your podcast. And the thing is, they already know that you were talking about this just before the show. The rest of us don’t care.

Remember you are talking to your listeners. Never forget the piece of knowledge that every great radio producer knows. Radio, or any aural media, is intimate. Your listeners are, as a rule, alone, and you are talking to them. Why disrupt that connection? On a podcast, you are still broadcasting. It’s a professional position with an audience (one that you hope will shell out money for your work). So focus on them and their reality, not yours.

Again, if you have something substantive and meaningful to say about yourself, go right ahead. But you’re not there to talk about banalities or trivialities. And by the way: If you do keep the level of your subject matter professional, the times when you do need to talk about yourself will have a lot more impact. (But I have to add: When you do talk about yourself, don’t say, “I generally don’t talk about myself, but ….” Don’t talk about talking!)

9.

It’s not an emergency, and it’s not an emergency podcast.

I realize at this point there’s a bit of irony in the mix when podcasters say this, but it’s still dumb, and everyone says it. Right behind the “emergency podcast” is the “special podcast.” It’s not special, either. The thing is, you and your team have this super consciousness about how and when you record your podcast. Podcast hosts use the word “podcast” incessantly. The rest of us just have a feed and get to it when we get to it. There’s a lot of podcasts I really really like, and some of them I pay for, and I still couldn’t tell you what day they do or don’t come or whether they come out one or twice or three times a week. I really, really like them, but I just wish they would understand that I just don’t care if it’s special or not, and wish even more that they would stop talking about themselves and their fucking podcast. If you’re doing a podcast about some breaking development, your listeners will find it. They don’t need to be told you think it’s an emergency or that you just breathlessly got to the studio.

And here’s the other reason I wish you would stop talking about “emergency podcasts” right now. At some point, every podcaster is going to realize how stupid saying “emergency podcast” is … and then will tell us, over and over again, how they used to say “emergency podcast” but don’t any more and ….

10.

There are few things in the world bleaker than forced laughter on the radio. When your partner makes a joke, just let it go. Snicker appreciatively, and move on. Don’t do that amateur radio think of chortling loudly into the mike so listeners know a hilarious joke has just been uttered.

And, please: You don’t have to seize on it and, burbling, basically repeat the joke with your own lame spin on it, which then allows the original joke-maker to chime in again with a different (and inevitably even lamer) twist, with everything descending into inaudible comments and laughter. This of course gets much worse when there are more than two people talking at the time. Let me tell you, when someone makes a joke, the diminishing returns when others chime in quickly becomes apparent.

11.

What makes this worse is when someone is about to make a point, and they make a little joke or aside to introduce it. This is a good thing, and an important rhetorical device. You need to let the person speaking have the space to make the aside and go back to their main point.

If you break in to seize on the little joke yourself, you are doing two things: One of them is bad, and one of them is worse. The bad thing is interrupting someone when they are trying to communicate. It’s poor manners and undercuts the whole point of your operation’s existence. The worse thing is that you’re talking over another person and your audience isn’t going to hear anything from either of you. You’re just hurting their ears. And again — a third person in the mix doing the same damn thing takes everything down into chaos. Don’t interrupt or talk over other people when they are speaking. You aren’t that funny and you aren’t that clever; we don’t need you to riff every five seconds.

12.

Don’t say “no pun intended.” Also, having said, “no pun intended,” don’t say, “Or should i say, pun very much intended, har dee har har.” It’s … been … done.

13.

It sure is fun being a podcaster. You have your own show! But: You can’t let the listeners know you are feeling that way. To them, you are super cool and in command of the situation. You don’t want to betray insecurity or self-consciousness.

So: As I said, don’t talk about talking, and don’t talk about the podcast. So many hosts just seem obsessed with talking about how they are hosting a podcast, and all the different guests they’ve had on the podcast, and how many episodes they’ve done of their podcast (paired with mock wonderment of how many they have done).

Imagine a professor at the front of the class talking constantly about how she’s a professor, and you’re the students, and she’s just up there being a professor, and how many classes she’s taught, and since she’s a professor blah blah blah. Professors don’t do that because they know it undercuts their authority by displaying insecurity and self-consciousness.

14.

Similarly, don’t say, “Well, I don’t mean to go off on a tangent, but…”, or “Well, we certainly like to go down rabbit holes on this show, don’t we, heh heh heh,” or “Well, I don’t mean to be geeky but….”

Just go ahead and do those things. Don’t apologize. Just do it. Go off on a fucking tangent. But for god’s sake don’t talk about going off on a fucking tangent.

You are either making an important point or you aren’t. If you aren’t, just don’t do it. If you are, don’t apologize for it.

And don’t get all nervous and make references to your partner’s having gone off on a fucking tangent if he or she is doing that. If you don’t want to do that on your show, let it go, exchange notes after, and work on staying on point next time. We are listening to your podcast because you have interesting things to say about a particular topic; why introduce tension and self-consciousness about it all into the mix?

15.

A corollary: If you disagree with a guest or your cohost, just articulate your opinion. Your audience is listening and can handle it. I can’t believe how many podcasts I listen to where any hint of disagreement is treated as a crisis or, worse, another occasion for forced merriment. '"Oh oh — here it comes!" And then, inevitably, comes talk about how you often agree, but sometimes you disagree, but then there was that time you disagreed but it turned out it wasn’t a disagreement after all …. It happens because you’re nervous and just babbling, but to listeners it comes across as being full of yourself and your on-air antics. These are all the marks of amateurishness. The entire zen of podcasting is that it’s genuine and unfiltered. Just be genuine and unfiltered.

Every show, of course, has its own texture; in some you can just state your opinion. In others you might say, “You know, I’m going to disagree with you on that point.” But, again, don’t go down the rabbit hole of talking about talking.

I don’t generally talk about myself, but — just joking. I created the radio show Sound Opinions with my buddy Jim DeRogatis back in Chicago. We were fast friends, but were genuinely appalled at each other’s taste in music and pop culture generally. We were capable of arguing for two hours straight. I’m sure we made some amateur mistakes. But we always left room for different opinions, from each other and from listeners, and we let all of this speak for itself. People liked it; we were an independent show that ranked third in our time slot — not bad in the very competitive third-largest media market in the U.S.

16.

Don’t say, jocularly, “friend of the pod.” It’s stupid, and no one cares. And then we have to listen to you guys discuss how many times this friend of the pod has been on, and when was the last time and was it around that time or was it around this other time? Again no one cares. Just talk to the person.

17.

You can tell when someone hasn’t prepared an intro for a guest. They say things like, “Our guest today, we are just so happy to have her, she’s a, um, 'friend of the pod,' and we are so excited to have her on…” And spare your listeners some clumsy back-and-forth that will, inevitably, feature both of you talking about how exciting the moment is for you.

As with your co-host, take 30 seconds to prepare the guest. “I’m going to introduce you and then toss you a question about your new book. Give us a quick take on it and then I’ll ask you a question about how serious the current widget downturn is. In the second half of the show we’ll go in depth on your book…” That strokes your guest’s ego, gives your listeners some insight into her bona fides, and overall gets the show off to an engaging start.

Another thing: If your guest has a big c.v., don’t exhaust us by reciting it in its entirety, and then make some tired joke about being out of breath. Get them on, ask them a question, and then work in the other parts of their resume later: “Joe, I know that when you were defending the landmark United States vs. Widgets Unlimited case you wrote that…”

That’s how to move your podcast along, with value to listeners at every step

18.

Don’t talk about the time. No one cares how long your podcast is. It’s a podcast, not a broadcast-era evening news show lasting 22 minutes and fifteen seconds. If you’re working for the man, and they want a sixty-minute show, fine — do it. But for the love of god stop talking about the time. Podcasters are incessantly saying, “We’re running out of time,” or “I’m not sure if we have enough time to discuss this,” or “…In the short time we have left….” or “I know you have to go but…” Then you have your guests saying things like, “I don’t know if I have enough time to mention this but …”

Why insert that sort of tension? It just puts your listeners on edge.

The end of your show should be a nice cadence. If one of your guests has a hard stop time, be professional and end the show on time without fussing about it. If you want to signal closure to listeners, fine, Say. “Joyce, I’ve got one last question for you….” But don’t add the element of being rushed or having limited time. Your listeners don’t care or notice, one way or the other, trust me.

19.

After you do a big interview for your podcast and send it on out, go into a room alone, turn the thing on, and listen to your chat. I know from personal experience that this is one of the most painful things any interviewer can do. You’re going to hear yourself start to ask a question … and then go off on a tangent. You’re going to hear a lot of “ums.” You’re going to hear yourself interrupting, and then entirely missing some key point your guest is making because you want to go off on some story about yourself. You’re going to hear your guest talking and you punctuating every half sentence with, “Yeah … Yeah …. Yeah …. Yeah.” If you’re like me, you’ll want to stab yourself in the eye with a pencil as you hear how tone deaf you are to your guest’s answers, and how irritating for listeners your tics are. But you have to do it, and keep doing it, until you learn how to ask a simple question and then shut up and let your guest answer it.

20.

Ask real questions. Cable news has degraded to the point where hosts will begin every other purported question with the phrase, “Talk about ….” Sometimes a guest will have known or have worked with a famous person. I hear hosts say things like, “Do you have any stories about XXXXX?” That’s not a question: It suddenly puts your guest on the spot to come up with a good story. You need to open a door for them, even if it’s as simple as “Was XXXXX pleasant to work with? Is it true that she once XXXXX?” Those are much more effective prompts. If you literally can’t even compose a coherent question for a guest you are in the wrong medium.

21.

Have a wrap up for the show prepared. “Joan, your first book on widgets, Widget Nation, really helped shape my thinking about this vital sector, and it was such a treat to be able to talk to the person behind it. Thank you for being with us today!”

22.

When you do get to question time, just read a question. Take time at some point to clearly read out your email address. Other than that, listeners can figure out the complex dynamics about how to use that information to convey a question to you.

23.

And remember that at the end of any podcast, your regulars will immediately tune out — but your new listeners might still be listening. Here’s where to hit them with your social media tags, your web site, and of course that email address again. Reintroduce your hosts to help get them straight in their minds.

And that’s why I hate your podcast.