About halfway through former President Donald Trump's recent conversation with Theo Von, a colorful comedian from Louisiana who hosts one of the most popular podcasts in the US, something incredible happens: Trump is interested in the inner life of another person. Instead of talking about one of his favorite topics – bloodthirsty criminals flooding the southern border; Joe Biden is the worst president in American history – Trump listens with genuine curiosity as Von, a former drug addict, talks about using cocaine. – Not anymore? Trump asks him. “Then you go back to drinking?” Von then explains that drinking increases the desire to take Coke. “Does it feel good?” – Trump asks. Von says it's pathetic.
Has Trump ever seemed as fascinated by someone as he did during this exchange? The primary ways in which we have absorbed him over the last nine years of his political life – cable TV interviews, rally speeches, and when he does deliver them, debates – could never have evoked such a strange, sudden moment of honesty. To limit its prefabrication for a moment MAGA scriptures and racist dog whistles, Trump had to leave the overtly political sphere, which apparently meant hanging out with a giggling stand-up comedian with a goatee. The hour-long interview allowed for a moment's insight into Trump's emotional life. “I've never smoked a cigarette and I've never had a glass of alcohol,” Trump tells Von at one point. “I could be the type of personality who, like you, would have a problem.” Trump cites his older brother Fred's struggle with alcoholism as the reason he never touches these things. Von bombards him with more comments, nodding furtively as he listens to the former president's breathtaking monologues. At one point, he calls Trump “homie.”
Von's disarming of Trump shows why conversational podcasts have come to compete with traditional forms of media – a reality that both presidential candidates seem to acknowledge. When a public figure sits down across from a podcast host to engage in a supposedly formless stream of consciousness chat full of crude jokes and nonsensical associations, a strange alchemy occurs: the speakers begin to sound like buddies bantering before a game, with the listener as a silent confidant. Like social media platforms that promise users constant connection and endless entertainment, podcasts promote a world where you never have to be alone and any silence can be filled with familiar and friendly voices. (As editors n+1 wrote in 2019: “That's why we love podcasts: it's the internet for our ears. Now we can be online all the time.”)
Compared to the fast-paced and free ethos of conversational podcasts, traditional interview formats can seem particularly stiff, especially those related to presidential politics. Take, for example, Kamala Harris' Monday interview on “60 Minutes.” She played the role of future Commander-in-Chief, spouting tired truisms about investing in small businesses and the middle class (“small businesses are part of the backbone of the American economy”) and offering frustratingly vague observations about America's negotiating power with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu (“the work we've done, resulted in a number of Israeli moves in the region that were largely due to or were the result of many things, including our support for the needs that were going to happen in the region.” The day before, Harris launched “Call Her Daddy,” a sex and relationship podcast previously hosted on Barstool Sports that is currently the most popular podcast on Spotify among women, with many listeners under the age of thirty-five. On the show, Harris discussed politics in detail while trying to be a friendly and jovial interviewee. Amid discussions about easing the housing crisis and protecting women's reproductive rights, she chuckled at host Alex Cooper's many jokes, leaned back in her chair, and called out sharp, one-sided statements about how women shouldn't aspire to “be humble.” On social media, many people wanted to see the vice president in a more relaxed atmosphere: as Josef Adalian, editor-in-chief of Vulture magazine, wrote in X: “I learned much more about her in 45 minutes than in any of the interviews she gave. we ended up with mainstream outlets.”
Source: Call Daddy / YouTube
“We have traditional television, which is a little bit older and maybe less relevant,” Trump said in the cover story of scientist and tech influencer Lex Fridman's podcast last month. “From a political point of view, you have to find out what people are doing, what they are watching, and you have to move on.” Harris expressed a similar sentiment on “Call Her Daddy” when Cooper asked what made her want to go on the show: “One of the best ways to communicate with people is to be honest and talk about things that people really care about. about,” Harris said. “This is a moment in the country and in life where people really want to know that they are seen and heard, that they are part of a community, that they are not alone.”
In addition to his appearances on Cooper's show, Harris recently appeared on the basketball podcast “All the Smoke” and on Howard Stern's radio show. Combining these appearances with more standard appearances (she also spoke with Stephen Colbert and Anderson Cooper this week), Harris's media strategy is somewhat reminiscent of Barack Obama's 2012 presidential campaign, in which he combined traditional media duties with unconventional interviews, such as sitting down with a columnist sportsman Bill Simmons and talking about the NBA or mentioning his favorite workout songs and ideal superpower on a morning radio show in New Mexico. Overall, Harris has been much more press-shy than Obama — and most presidential candidates in general — leading to speculation that her podcast interviews are a way to engage with the press without being challenging or confrontational. The Times she noted that several of these programs “are considered friendly to her, or at least much less insightful than a traditional news interview.” (Even Stern, known for being a shocker, has emerged as a more typical resistance activist in recent years, and his interview with Harris was quite warm). However, reaching your audience is probably more important than the interview questions themselves. By appearing on shows like “Call Her Daddy” and “All the Smoke,” Harris is able to capture the attention of some of the demographics she needs to pitch to in November: young adults, women and Black Americans among them.
Meanwhile, Trump appeared on several ostensibly apolitical but right-wing coded shows that gave him the opportunity to communicate directly with a young, terminally online male audience. These shows include “Full Dispatch,” a show hosted by the Nelk Boys, a group of pranksters and hardened salesmen; “Impulsive,” fronted by YouTuber-turned-professional wrestler Logan Paul; “Egregious,” a podcast hosted by comedian Andrew Schulz; and a livestream from Gen Z Twitch star Adin Ross, in which Ross gifted Trump a Rolex and a Tesla Cybertruck. (It turns out this is a potential violation of federal campaign finance law.) During these interviews, Trump repeated his usual talking points, long advocating for “ideal” preparation for the talks.COVID presidency and how the country has fallen into a state of despotic ruin since Biden and Harris illegally took power. Most importantly, these podcasts give Trump the opportunity to engage in what he once called “locker room talk,” which includes trying to play golf, professional fights, UFOs and his opinions on rapper Ice Spice. (“Who the hell is Ice Spice?” asked the Nelk Boys). These interviews cast Trump less as an anti-democratic demagogue and more as a former fraternity president visiting his grandson's pledge classes and answering boring questions with doe-eyed sage-like wisdom.
