Call Her Daddy to Theo By: How Podcasts Became an Important Voting Tool | Podcasts

FFor much of this strange and unprecedented presidential campaign cycle, candidates have made news for what they don't do to the press and not for what they say when they actually give interviews. Kamala Harris has been criticized for a lack of real voting following her sudden rise to the nomination over the summer. Meanwhile, Donald Trump repeatedly avoids interviews in the major press, including one with NBC News and a 60 Minutes segment. (Harris appeared on the TV newsmagazine institution as planned.) But both candidates have increased their commitment to branching out into less traditional media territory: podcasts. For both, this may be the most podcast-favorable presidential campaign ever.

It may seem like a strange strategy. Even to hardcore podcast enthusiasts, it might feel like a medium that peaked in excitement a few election cycles ago and now sits somewhere above Pokémon Go but below TikTok and Netflix. In terms of format, talk podcasts still resemble old-fashioned radio and – with now popular video components – talk shows, which don't necessarily seem to be the most forward-looking reference points. And while they can produce plenty of sound bites, podcasts aren't exactly concise either. Isn't producing a major entertainment podcast a bit like sitting in on a light interview with Jimmy Fallon, but marathon-length and, depending on the host, with even more self-satisfied giggles?

However, even if this is the case, it is also seen as an important route to certain broad target groups, which may include undecided or undermotivated voters. Harris initially took both a broader and more selective approach. Her biggest move was taking part in a 40-minute interview on Call Her Daddy, a relationship and advice podcast that is in the top 5 on the Spotify charts. In other words: It is a broad-based program that sees itself as a relatively large event with a politically diverse audience. Host Alexandra Cooper practically began her episode by apologizing for speaking to a politician – the sitting Vice President of the United States! – because she generally tries to avoid politics.

In fact, the first part of the interview largely avoided talking about politics per se, as the show focused on mental and physical well-being, which allowed Harris to get pretty vague both personally and (in terms of her candidacy). . But Harris had the opportunity after the overturn of Roe v. Wade in 2022 to speak on the big issue of abortion rights, something Cooper clearly cares deeply about. And although the Call Her Daddy audience is too large to be entirely homogeneous, for younger white women it felt like a tacit innuendo when Harris spoke to Cooper about the issue: This is why this issue and this candidate should be yours be important.

In that demographic, “Call Her Daddy” felt like an outlier in this final season of podcast interviews. Harris' other major podcast appearance so far has been a longer (though often more personal) interview with All The Smoke, hosted by former basketball players Matt Barnes and Stephen Jackson. The correct analogy may not be the diminished influence of late-night talk shows or general interest radio after all, but rather the relentless, recurring chatter of sports talk radio. Even Call Her Daddy, which has nothing particularly to do with sports, was owned by Barstool Sports for several years before going to Spotify.

Trump also appeared on a Barstool-affiliated show, Bussin' With The Boys, hosted by former NFL players. His podcast playbook seems more focused on energizing the younger end of his base, the odd mix of sports fans and comedy bros, where being perceived as a mix of being somehow sporty is anything but trump card, so to speak or is somehow strange. Like “Call Her Daddy,” these shows convey a kind of independent-minded, quasi-apolitical attitude – while simultaneously flattering their audience with the practiced ingratiation of a classic politician. In other words, it's Trump country for people who don't consider themselves Trump country. So Trump argues with personality cult comedians like Andrew Schulz and Theo Von, giving the impression that, if you don't pay too much attention, he's a funny anti-woke bro who talks common sense. Even the occasional resistance he receives doesn't really challenge his basic worldview. When he misidentified Olympic boxer Imane Khelif twice on Bussin' With The Boys (as transgender, which she is not, and as a man, which she is not), the hosts argued that her opponent should have stayed in the ring instead of actually To have him right about her gender status.

Of course, no one listens to a Barstool Sports podcast looking for an intense questioning of a presidential candidate, and none of it really seems to move undecided voters. (At best, it could raise a candidate's profile among people who aren't sure they'll even vote.) Perhaps there was a point in the pre-Trump era when appearing accessible, sincere, funny, or playful on TV was a good thing changing some minds in the classic Kennedy-before-Nixon way; The majority of voters today appear to be too entrenched for such a noticeable change.

But that doesn't mean that these shows, which aggressively market themselves as harmless, down-to-earth, and essentially non-partisan, are actually any of those things. Just as cultural critics lose popularity compared to the friendlier, more “fun” influencers who ideally act as audience surrogates rather than moody pundits, real journalists lose out to the likes of Joe Rogan – people in media positions who are – on ground There is no better qualification to interview presidential candidates than a television personality to run the country. To wit: Harris is reportedly considering appearing on Rogan's show because it appeals to a young and male audience. In the short term, it might even make sense in a close race. But in the search for friendly, casual access to large numbers of voters, candidates could well end up in a podcast swamp of their own making, where anyone can be turned into a harmless morning zoo personality. By mimicking the chatter of sports talk, this select corner of the podcast world is upholding a questionable legacy media tradition: turning a serious political moment back into a horse race.