The problem is much the same: too many podcasts, one life.
Making Sense with Sam Harris
It seems that I have been listening to Sam Harris's podcast my whole life. And yet it has barely been a decade. I listen to Making Sense (Waking Up, originally) in wild, addictive bursts. It slips out of my life and then it comes up in memory and in conversations and I get back to being a subscriber. I hear Sam Harris's voice, and for an hour or two, the world no longer feels like a bunch of non-sequiturs thrown together by a child's hand. I value Sam Harris for being a calming presence in my life, for being a great thinker and a scientist (the "Four Horsemen" video is still the best thing on YouTube). In his weekly podcast, Sam talks to people ranging from world's leading economists to comedians to Muslim dissidents to specialists in meditation.
Sam Harris is a devastatingly reasonable human being who keeps getting into trouble in the age of unreason. These days, his views often get labelled as provocative and dangerous, and yet you could not even pigeonhole him as being anti-woke. He calls out idiots and exposes Islam for what it is. He defends Joan Rowling against the most ardent proponents of cancel culture. He talks to people who have been ostracised for their views and who have gotten into serious mess for trying to stay reasonable (the podcast with Bret Weinstein is essential listening). And then there are occasional stories about Christopher Hitchens (who was Sam Harris's friend), and I cannot really miss those.
The Bret Easton Ellis Podcast
Bret Easton Ellis is an interesting case in my life. I do not exactly love any of his novels (notable exceptions being The Rules of Attraction and American Psycho) but when I first heard his podcast on my way from Minsk to Madrid in the summer of 2015, back when it first appeared, I could not stop listening. His taste seemed impeccable (I believe that first podcast was to do with the brilliant little film called It Follows), and his verbose speaking style worked like a powerful incantation. I remember lying in my hotel room in Toledo during that hot, hot summer, writing stories, eating melons with ham, drinking Mateus and listening to Bret Easton Ellis talking to people like Mark Danielewski and John Carpenter.
But then it stopped. Suddenly, the podcast ceased to exist and there were no more discussions about Trump, TV vs. movies and Bret Easton Ellis's own forays into filmmaking (of which we should not speak). This was in 2017, and it felt like a loss. Because the podcast was fascinating, and regardless of your opinion of the man's writing, you had to admire his insights into the world of art and politics and everything in between. But, as it turns out, all is not lost - and the Bret Easton Ellis's podcast has never really stopped. These days, you should come here, become a Patreon subscriber and start listening. Believe me, it is worth it. Bret Easton Ellis's mind is a minefield that does not kill.
Discord & Rhyme: An Album Podcast
Back in 2002 or thereabouts, I stumbled upon something called Web Reviewing Community and the wonderful and frightening world of independent reviewers and music commentators who have introduced me to a lot of great music I might never have discovered on my own. Later, I got out of loop and when I returned - WRC had virtually been decimated. Some died, some vanished, some gave up. And then, a short while ago, something called Discord & Rhyme came to my attention. A podcast launched by several of those music enthusiasts from the past; a podcast devoted to their favourite albums which they review song by song and with the sort of genuine obsession I have come to appreciate in people. The tastes of these people are diverse enough to cover artists as disparate as Bruce Springsteen and The Fall.
These days, I find myself listening to this podcast on a train or else while walking the dog and I always find something new and worthwhile in their dissections of albums I have heard a million times before. They have reignited my love for 69 Love Songs, made me less afraid of Phish, helped me rediscover the demented brilliance of Mr Bungle's California and proved that there is something fundamentally wrong with me as I still do not care for the music of Stevie Wonder. My two minor complaints: first, I would like to see a little more discord; second, how in God's name have they released 106 shows and three (!) of those have been about The Moody Blues?!.
