Why Are Podcasts So Intimate?

 Let me set the stage for you. I am vacationing with my wife and about 20 people from her family in a VRBO home on stilts on the beach in North Carolina. I'm lucky because my wife's family have somehow escaped the oddball chromosome or switched-on "nutbag on steroids" gene. In essence, they're normal and fun to be around, although I am a confirmed introvert. 

They just have this one thing. They're a military family so they're all Republicans. Not like the My Pillow guy or Proud Boys or QAnon wackos. Just long-time, loyal Republicans. They've voted for Trump and held their nose. I don't agree with that, and I have an uneasy truce with them. We don't discuss politics. It's like India and Pakistan. Periodically, there are flareups, but nothing substantial or long-lasting.

Anyway, it's near midnight, usually past my bedtime, but hey, it's vacation. I am lounging in this den watching Stephen Colbert on TV and eating Philly soft pretzels I just warmed in the microwave. I am relaxing by myself, and Linda family is now in the after-dinner liqueur phase of their all-day vacation partying. 

Suddenly, my peaceful existence is disturbed by two of Linda's  brothers-in-law who barge in, demanding that I come to drink some fruity drink with more ingredients than Kraft's velvetta cheese. Then they see I am watching Stephen Colbert.

"We hate that guy," they say, harmonizing like a barbershop quartet. "Turn it off."

I smile and continue to enjoy the salt from my pretzel and say, "Or you could go back to drinking somewhere else."

Needless to say, my viewing of a celebrity not on the Fox News approved list caused a minor stir.

Fast-forward to the next evening. I relax on this large, comfy chair with an oversize ottoman. I have my earbuds in and my phone screen down on the end table. I am listening to the Stephen Colbert podcast. Every few minutes, a family member of Linda's wanders in with a question.

"What are you listening to? Music? A podcast?"

"A podcast," I respond, giving out no more information. They accept that. 

After the podcast, I join the group for a game of Left, Right, Center replete with communal laughter and good-natured ribbing. 

But that sonic enclave I enjoyed with the podcast was joyous. Like a meditation iPhone app.

There are numerous reasons why listening to podcasts is an intimate experience, and that example is just one.

With podcasting, as with music, you can create your audio world with sound becoming your personal valet. No one knows what you're listening to unless you share that information. Listening to a podcast and music is indeed a much different experience. Music can facilitate a daydream, convey a mood you want to reproduce, or revel in the emotional cloth that music can provide.

Listening to a podcast offers a more intellectual, thoughtful, emotional and informative experience. For example, when I work in my garden a few times a week, The Daily with Michael Barbaro is my constant companion. If I'm driving in the evening, APM Marketplace rides with me in my Hyundai. I don't blast the speakers or dial up the bass to vibrate the interior to show off to others that I'm listening to music. Instead, I bath myself in the carefully considered words of Kai Ryssdal on Marketplace. 

When I walk four miles almost every day (no walking in the rain or in extreme temperatures over 90 degrees and under 10 degrees), I can't wait to cycle through my favorite podcasts. As I move past houses in my neighborhood, I am treated to the words of Sean Rameswaram from Today, Explained or the true-crime podcast The Murder Sheet.

When people listen to music, there is often those visual cues they cannot help but display. A tap, tap, tap of your feet. A simulation of your hands playing drums on your thighs. A sway of your hips or a bob of your head. 

The message to the outside world is clear.

"I'm listening to some great music, everyone."

When listening to a podcast like Slate's Hit Parade, it's just me and host Chris Molanphy geeking out the Billboard charts. Or Ken Rudin on The Political Junkie, giving me an insight into famous past events in political history.

Listening to a podcast is an intimate experience between you, your ears, and the podcast host and guests. It likes inviting these people into your brain. They stay for a while, maybe an hour, and then leave you with some info, a few insights, a kernel of a new idea, or the sense that the wrong person was convicted.  

So the next time, you carefully insert your earbuds, use your podcast app to decide upon a podcast, think about the act of allowing another person to enter your ears.

I can't speak for you, but I'm selective about who enters my ears. It's a sacred space. 

Listening to a podcast is a personal act. A one-person play. A deep connection between your ears and the images, ideas, thoughts, and concepts those sounds create. 

When listening to a podcast, it isn't what enters your ears that as important that what travels from your ears to your brain.

As TV psychologist from the 1970s, Dr. Joyce Brothers, once said, "Real intimacy is only possible to the degree that we can be honest about what we are doing and feeling." 

Photo by Anna Tarazevich