Radio without scaffolding

From the vantage of 25 years, it’s hard to fathom a national radio network offering its airwaves to the glottal toccatas and ear arias of Christof Migone’s Hole in the Head. His melding of art and media was extremely mischievous and relevant to the scope of buttoned-down radio—then and today.

Migone’s work found its way in the 1990s to progressive NPR affiliates in the States and also to many live radioesque performance spaces. It’s the scaffold-bolstered media platform airing his experiments that seems like a relic to our ears today. Is it, actually? Waves of experiments have always existed alongside ‘news’—long before the DIY internet and chance, self-curated RSS feeds came along.

Radio, here, refers to an action rather than an instrument; radio as a particular manifestation of the act: to radiate. Radio is the loop of a collapsing tree, endlessly emanating static. Whether someone listens is inconsequential to the transmitter. —Christof Migone, 1992


Consider Migone’s conditions for such modernism as a hearkening back to early 20th-century aesthetic enactments. But as he sat at the other end of the century, at the precipice of the internet age, his experiment augurs podcasting’s genius potential today. His manifesto in another project, Radio Naked, impelled the programmer to dispense (or at least question) all of the conventions and expectations of what radio—and now podcasting—should sound like.

These were fun engagements for maker and listener, and perhaps even the gatekeepers. We can’t ignore these legacies. They are the framework for a contemporary conversation around what tributaries podcasting meanders down or in some cases away from all the rushing like a roiling body of water towards some stylistic, data-driven ‘end.’ Over the ballasts anchoring the dam, practitioners’ missives come careening and splashing and overflowing, overwhelming the conventions we’ve come to expect of, particularly, narrative-based, storytelling podcasting, now more than a decade in.


Radio Contortions: A Dialogue

Last year, Earlid hosted Radio’s Art to expand dialogue of the many confluences of terrestrial broadcast artistry amid podcasting’s churning fervor. No one thing was concretized in this swirling. Contributors merrily pointed towards the interlacing of media and its coiling tendrils.

This year, eight experimenters engaged in audio creation and, more diversely, in the podcasting medium, chime in. Their experiences flow along a continuum of curator-collectors; creative interviewers; improv composers—readily offering platforms for discussing artistic practice. Most are engaged in narrative artistry, sometimes injecting fiction into documentary-like shapes and a predilection towards privileging sound over voice.

And we want to hear your thoughts. Join us for the conversation right here (scroll down to the comments below) through July 31.

For newcomers the term “podcast” doesn’t exactly evoke a sense that you’ll encounter a diversity of form, if anything it hints at just a few limited formats.Adriene Lilly, Long Live the New Sound


Submersing for a year in the hyper-regional flows of improv sound artists in Europe is one approach (That Tuesday); and, just this month, another takes to the open-platform, sprouting an ‘anti-podcast’ RSS feed—the newest incarnation to build without much scaffolding, Long Live the New Sound.

Similarly, every two weeks, Constellations invites curious listeners to keep their ‘starry’ ears open; they feature a fortnightly ‘frequency’ of sounds upon spaces to conjure a place. And alongside the ‘mixtape’ journalism of projects like The White Whale, remix episodes of Where@bouts, and Love and Radio‘s quirky interviews, sits Lily Sloane’s A Therapist Walks into a Bar, where she, too, offers periodic ‘series,’ revisiting themes such as what ghosts mean for our unconscious lives and, more connected to our waking world, why protesters need a therapeutic strategy.

For each, there’s a radioesque signal, albeit of the very 21st-century kind. Never out of range is the transmission calculus of radio—of sound itself—as a grounding and churning of the aesthetic circuit.


Scaffolding may be precarious

There’s an immense freedom in the so-called loss of the gatekeeper. But what about the scaffolding that buttresses these built constructions—whether launched more than a decade ago or more recently?

Some of these podcasters solicit donations, but most support themselves in day jobs, often in public radio. At least one has a more robust support via the U.S. podcast network, Radiotopia, bolstered with ad sales and a paid staff. The producer of Love + Radio questions how podcasters today could readily take more risks, though he’s cognizant of how risks impact his own aesthetics, his audience, his scaffolding.

Thinking around podcasting in less binary ways—regarding ‘listenability’ or even financial support—yields a push towards the intersections between radio and podcasting. Much of the thinking could veer off-course, towards the mystical, as some of these contributors here suggest. Series of linked episodes are not cliff-hanger-ready. Instead, they work more like an open door. Even if a more ‘conventional’ style is at play, the arrival of it through surprise returns, thematically or stylistically, throughout a podcast’s ‘season’ can ignite curiosity.

Radio suffers from both a cinema and journalism hangover. It’s time to reject the notion that the primary purpose of sound is to create ‘movies in our heads.’Jess Shane + Michelle Macklem, Constellations


What do these podcasts demand of their listeners? Depth, for one. A commitment to expand their conception of both narrative and musicality. Finally, perhaps more than a quick download and dismissal if it doesn’t jive with the conventions of storytelling, documentary, even sound-art podcasting.




Marjorie Van Halteren
Adriene Lilly

Garrett Tiedemann
Nick van der Kolk
Lily Sloane

Magnus Genioso
Michelle Macklem
Jess Shane


A Century of Static

Podcasting is built out of a referent, it’s constantly trying to justify its existence by other means, rather than simply being. Garrett Tiedemann, The White Whale


Creators in today’s landscape might find it fruitful to ‘listen’ to what came before—especially in the analogue medium of radio itself. Echoes of early practitioners can be discerned even if recording gear limited the archival process; even if the one-pass glory days of radio languish behind us.

One can, at least, imagine; we can think we hear something when we don’t.

17 February 1913: This date has been inscribed as mythical in the history of modernism, marking the opening of The Armory Show, which brought Duchamp’s visual art to New York (though his Musical Erratum shattered composition styles with its aleatory and sonic expressions).

But it was Luigi Russolo’s futurist manifesto, The Art of Noise, that ushered in an evolution that year (maybe ‘revolution’ is more apt) incorporating the epoch’s increasing mechanization to free the music scene of its arranging and lexical restraints. (Note: the clamor of war was also surging throughout Europe in 1913).

We find far more enjoyment in the combination of the noises of trams, backfiring motors, carriages and bawling crowds than in rehearing, for example, the Eroica or the Pastorale. —Luigi Russolo, The Art of Noise, 1913


Russolo’s categories of sound for a futurist orchestra literally serve as ‘scaffolding’ for three of the podcasters here, a voiced ’roundtable’ of words, concepts and sounds, fathoming links among modernism’s experiments towards this century’s transmissions upon its precipice; its gatekeepers and dreamspace; its mystery.

This ‘art’ of ‘noise’ whispers and thuds.

Leaf + flow: Towards a new Century


Early radio (also launched in this same year, 1913) was born with an electronic side-effect. One can surmise if static can still be heard (or felt?) in the deadness of radio’s ‘air’ online. What do we conjure of our own ‘curating’ and is it the kind of chaos that leads to random and broken narratives?

People need to be able to count on it, don’t they? Yes, but I feel like the podcasting world has become a kind of Penny Dreadful. Oh we do like those, don’t we?Marjorie Van Halteren, That Tuesday


Earlid’s call for this year’s forum contributors is as random as a radio signal. They straddle edges—bending noises since the very birth of the RSS towards those creations launched this year. They foray towards ‘a’ podcasting built as their platform for ingenuity and exploration.

We’re always landing upon new signals. And a perennial favorite is the now-dark podcast experiment, a vast trove of archived listening:

Basement Tapes of the Mole Cabal
The Tin Man
Random Tape

A blip last year revived Paper Radio, which had been, like Rip van Winkle, a bit sleepy.

Recently, listening to a 2018 series, Radio Silence, one learns that it was supposed to be longer: the producers knew when to stop, already rich with sound.

And here’s an intriguing project from The Organist—a call for submissions to their recurring segment, iTunes Library of Babel, where we all get to imagine the universe as an infinite catalog of podcasts. Just as in Borges’s story, this library goes on forever: it contains all of the existing podcasts, plus the negation of those podcasts.

The lake is the opportunity that podcasting gives us. There are a lot of people waiting there, waiting for those one-of-a kind leaves. We remix everyday ambience … we throw out more and more of those weird-shape leaves … now did this work?Magnus Genioso, Where@bouts


These makers construct strange kinds of ‘radio’ in order that listeners learn how to hear it. They point to the divisions and desire for intersections between the liveness of radio and the deadness of podcasting—incidentally, celebrating the liveness of sound in the latter.

“In an upending of the RSS feed, someone, someday, will figure out how to use the unique structure of podcast delivery to make something truly special,” surmises Magnus Genioso. “Those receiving technologies are being messed with, in good ways.”

It’s a fathomable and meaningful disruption of the media paradigm. It’s a method of injecting anarchy into the fractured little ‘public’ spheres currently multiplying and separating us (podcasters and listeners), and potentially coalescing some of these ears.

There’s a questioning of these relationships among the body, the technologies used to get the sound to us and the workings of the universe.

Harness those noises, as Mr. Russolo commands. Immerse yourselves.


Open the Ears: An Invitation – July 15-31, 2018

Like last year’s forum, we beckon you to chime in as you read and listen to these murmurings and musings by artists and documentarians and storytellers upending the expected, creating their singular genres. Scroll up towards each—Signal, Transmission, Circuit—for a written or a sound-full provocation.

Begin with a consideration:

How would you listen differently if podcasting had room for being something other than what you hear?

It’s a simple question, not a trick.

Post your thoughts, ideas, examples, questions right here in the comments section below. If it’s your first time, it sits in the queue for a moment. Check back later in the day to see it appear along with others you drag over for the conversation through July 31.


—Joan Schuman, Earlid


  1. First post!! Whooooo!

    See you tomorrow Earlidders…

  2. Joan Schuman

    Something that arose in my conversations with the various podcasters here is an entwined question:

    Could more ‘successful’ (buttressed) podcasts leverage their audiences to hear something different from the style they’ve already established without losing listeners and funding in the process? “Funding,” naturally in some sectors means ad sales; in others, a scaffolding of radio itself.

    I’d be curious to dive into this concept broadly and specifically across various experiences in the next weeks of our conversation.

    Welcome to “Radio Without Scaffolding.”

  3. Thank you so much Joan. I’m happy to be part of the conversation.

    In response to your question, this is something I’m sitting with a lot right now. In my latest episode I chose to leave some information out till the end that for some people should have been “explained” earlier. I disagreed – I liked the mystery – so I went with my gut and I’m personally pleased with the result. BUT it’s hard to sit with knowing many listeners will struggle with that choice. My podcast is a place where I’m trying to engage a broader audience both because I’d like this to be my profession and because one of the aims of the show is to get a message about self-exploration to the masses. It’s not clear how many listeners are there for something artful and how many are there purely for the therapy stuff.

    This is a core struggle I’ve had my whole life anyway – do we (and our art as an extension) want to be understood as it comes out naturally, through our rawest impulses, or do we bend ourselves with a specific audience in mind? I practice both in different ways and I also find myself often doing something in the middle. We’re constantly translating our inner worlds in order to make contact with another. And yet when the rawer impulses are presented and understood it’s so much more gratifying to me. Sometimes it feels like the various aims of my work are in harmony and sometimes, they’re in opposition.

    Each piece I create feels like a risk. I wonder about others’ relationships to risk. Is that even a word that applies for you? Is it something else?

    • For me, risk is a natural by-product of how our podcast processes the world. I’m currently writing this on a rural island. I assemble my perception of this place, like any location I’ve visited, like a conductor assembles his symphony. The crickets are the woodwinds. The breezes and howls are basses. The way wind current pulls on the blinds in this room? Snare rim shots.

      If I am to be true to the way I organize sound to appreciate a story, I have to trust listeners will begin to catalog the sounds the same way I do and enjoy the process. The majority will fall away. The minority will be passionate and tell their like-minded friends. That’s the stage I feel we’re at as a podcast.

      Risk is the graham crackers holding together my campfire s’mores. Everybody wants to taste the chocolate and marshmallows, but the cracker is always there and it wouldn’t feel the same without it.

      I have a question for the rest of you: I remain faithful to the Mutt Lange school of experimenting. (What the hell are you on about, Mags?) Mutt produced Def Leppard’s “Hysteria” and Shania Twain’s “Come On Over.” His talent was in taking a beloved artform for a segment of ears (metal and country fans, in these cases) and hammering sound, through meticulous layering and arrangement, in glorious pop perfection.

      I want to do this for podcasting. To take an esoteric form of sound design and make it irresistible for everyone. Give the audience what they want wrapped audaciously in what they didn’t know they need. Like “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” the mix shouldn’t work, but it’s so perfect in execution that it makes you crave for more.

      Why can’t we allow ourselves to work this way in sound design? Or perhaps the question is: Why shouldn’t we?

      • Joan Schuman

        Mags, this line of thinking reminds me of things mentioned last year at Earlid’s “Radio’s Art” where quite a few chimed in suggesting that podcasting get weirder, that radio be ‘stranger’ and in doing so, allows listeners to begin to learn how to hear it.

        So, if we weren’t saddled with the limited episode, cliff-hanger-ready narrative model where the host reads the ubiquitous ads in each episode (such that if you binge-listen, you are inundated with repeated iterations of ad copy throughout your listening experience), then a new model could sprout.

        What both you and Lily have introduced here is the question of just what kind of scaffolding—financial and/or audience support—could engender ‘weird’ or ‘strange’ radio. What won’t disrupt, but what will bolster the art-worker so she can quit her day-job? What do ‘we’ need to hear and how do ‘we’—both maker and listener–shift things towards a viable structure?

        Hasn’t art often faced these very questions? Do we better follow art models (bands, as you’re suggesting, Mags) than public radio models? The latter seem to have gotten quite confused—underwriting vs. ads? And compared to other models in countries outside the U.S., what confusion or structures live together in that landscape?

        I’m tossing questions aplenty. No doubt others will chime in.

  4. Joan Schuman

    This idea, Lily, about bending our own styles with an audience in mind seems key around these conversations regarding podcasting. And they were there for earlier radio, for public radio programmers still today.

    Your podcast, A Therapist Walks into A Bar, featured in the “Transmission” section above, then has a huge task to speak to the masses. Who do you imagine them to be? Do you have ‘smaller’ masses in mind that some of your programming tries to capture?

    Not that you can do it all yourself, by any means! It begs more questions about the structures that have been built by certain kinds of podcasting (not necessarily all a ‘corporate’ blame-game) and their expectations of who is listening.

    What would you need to be both self-sufficient and risk-taking? I’m curious what that scaffolding might look like and is it ‘worth’ trying to make incremental changes to the structures that you find yourself mired in or attempting to ensconce the podcast within.

    Your raising these ideas is at the heart of this forum, I think, so my subsequent questions are bouncing around what many of you, the contributors, have conjured.

    • In terms of scaffolding, I don’t know. It seems like being “successful” (and by that I mean being able to do this as a job) is a combination of having a great idea that resonates with people, doing good work, and lucking out. I wonder if striking the balance between creating what I want and creating something other people want means really getting to understand who’s listening so I can make informed choices about what I want to do – like, do I focus on how to best get the show to the “right people”, do I make different creative choices so I don’t lose people? Gathering that data is a challenge (I’ve done surveys and they don’t get a lot of responses). I wonder if there are more effective ways.

      • Joan Schuman

        Lily, do you mean ‘more effective ways’ to gather data or ‘more effective ways’ to discern who is listening?

        Like radio, podcasting tumbles down the same steep plunge into the abyss known as ‘who’s out there listening.’ We think we know since this is all happening in the algorithm, data-driven world of the online stream of data. It seems, from what you’re saying, that’s somewhat dissatisfying!

        You also broadcast via other platforms than your subscribable podcast, namely an online, streaming radio station. Do you discern more or less knowledge of who is listening there? I’d be really curious–as much as I was to learn that you started your podcast and then you traveled over to BFF—Best Frequencies Forever with your program “Radical Advice.”

        • Good questions! I guess I’m curious if there are more effective ways to discern who’s listening and if that includes better data gathering, that’s cool too.

          It’s definitely so different from performing on stage, in some ways that I find enjoyable – like when I muse on Radical Advice about our listeners ranging from 3 to millions and just let that rest in the unknown (well, it’s definitely at most only in the hundreds) – but in other ways it’s a little unsettling. I think the unknown is just like that in general: unsettling, exciting, curiosity provoking.

          The radio show is a way for me to just play and be on stage a little since it’s live and unscripted. It’s not so much a creative endeavor though I guess that depends on how broadly you define creativity. In terms of audience, there’s a little more interaction because I’m inviting people to write in to the show with their life questions. They send them anonymously via a form on the website ( but I’m getting to learn some things about them. I think the format of the show has invited people in more. I get more messages that are also just comments or feedback than I do for the podcast.

          But even so, I’m really not sure listeners are there for the really weird stuff – whether it’s my music choices during song breaks, the irreverent toilet humor tangents, or the sparks of inspiration to bring in some unexpected sounds (like the Captain Planet theme song last week). On the other hand, I’m not as concerned about winning anyone over so it gives me freedom to be as silly as I want to be. I’m not even sure it’s something I would listen to. I just like doing it. And in the end, there are dedicated listeners who let me know the positive impact the show is having in their life. They feel comforted spending time with me, my cohost, and guests.

          • Joan Schuman

            Lily, your divisions/process among live performance, live radio streaming, and heavily constructed podcast reminds me of a similar divide that’s happening all at once at Long Live the New Sound that Adriene Lilly is speaking about in her written piece for this forum (over in the “Signal” section).

            What she’s allowing to happen is a hands-off method of curating, if we can use that descriptor for her ‘anti-podcast’ podcast. I think of it more as a DIY RSS system where artists upload their work and it mysteriously appears on LLtNS.

            Adriene, how do you curate for LLtNS? Albeit it’s a new entity, so your process might still be evolving or you’re willing it to continually progress as artists come forth, upload; and audiences flock and listen.

  5. Great question. Two answers.

    First, “The Established.” I think we’ve seen evidence that extremely successful podcasts can branch into new forms without losing their faithful. In the case of Radiolab (More Perfect) and This American Life (Serial, S-Town), it’s only served to diversify their style, audience, content and income. Are they taking risks in their own way? I can’t say they haven’t. Would I like to see them go further? Absolutely.

    There’s a famous adage about Ira Glass confronting a listener upset about his constant use of music early in the show’s run. Listener says, “Why must you always do this?” Ira retorts: “Do you like movies?”

    That was 23 years ago.

    By now, we’ve educated the storytelling audience to accept some music and sound design in the public radio realm, but it’s always bothered me that the same audience who can appreciate opera can not appreciate a full spectrum of sound behind the spoken word. Haven’t these listeners heard “Peter and the Wolf?” That’s the battlefront I’m planting my flag on as a sound designer and creator.

  6. Which brings me to the second version of this answer: My own experience in the trenches with the “Non-Established.”

    Where@bouts has been podcasting on and off for four years now. We’re still young and toying with a structure that can make our stream more active and interesting. At the moment, we’re dropping random ambient sounds into the feed, with less and less explanation, allowing our listeners to dream with us. Be fascinated with the noise, as it coalesces into a song that tells the emotional story of a location.

    The early feedback suggests this is working. Thousands of audiophiles, our chief listener base, are curious and stealing our noises for their own use. The subscribers tripled in six weeks. That being said, I don’t think we’re quite ready to pitch this to underwriters yet. I think our Mad Genius team can solidify the approach and normalize the release date to give sponsors a better structure to support.

    What gives me hope is my background in independent music. Bands were taught to diversify the product while giving your audience multiple avenues to embrace the art. So we’ve done that at Mad Manor, selling Where@bouts as both a podcast and singles series. Superlisteners are following the podcast and paying for the resulting story-songs. They’re streaming them on several platforms during binge-listens.

    Our podcast is slowly creating a box set of remixed location songs, a process that hasn’t paid for itself yet, but independent musicians rarely recoup on albums one, two and three. They recoup on a five or six album catalog. We’ll get there, and once we do, the hope is sponsors will share long-term excitement for this body of work. Another income source to support an experimental approach.

  7. Joan Schuman

    I’m curious, if you can get specific, Magnus, what kinds of sponsors you’re going after. Not specific names, but categories or genres of sponsors—like the differences I’d understand if it were a local brewery vs. Mail Chimp or Casper Mattresses?

  8. Joan Schuman

    I’ve got one specific model that has intrigued me of late. Scott Carrier (who launched his career 30 years ago on NPR and a bit later on This American Life), launched his independent podcast, Home of the Brave. At the end of three years, with varying narrative styles (multi-episode series; individual pieces; even archives from his early work), Carrier announced he was at the end of ‘Season 1’. He just called it an end-point because he was done or maybe tired.

    He thanked the “… very kind people who are making donations,” (that is his only financial model for the podcast). He suggests, like you do, Mags, that podcasting is like the explosion of rock-bands in the ’60s and ’70s. Back then, he says, we bought records.

    And while making a donation isn’t the same, he says (” … you don’t get to read the liner notes, enjoy the album art, drop the needle on the spinning disc …”), he hopes those who donated feel it was worth it.

    That’s one model that, I think, stands out as something we might start seeing more of. It seems to come with the territory of the loss of the gatekeeper. Scott Carrier just does what he needs to do. Same with Megan Tan who quit her Millennial series (with a lot more scaffolding via Radiotopia and the built-in network obligations, than Carrier had).

  9. Joan Schuman

    Brilliance is “The Voice of God,” or at least, over ‘there’ on the risk-taking spectrum. Despite The Organist‘s scaffolding (maybe because of what KCRW-FM radio tends to host), their first episode of this current season of the podcast launches the aforementioned “iTunes Library of Babel,” linked above in the Earlid intro.

    It helps to take a walk and listen as part of it invites you to walk more slowly—and I did.

    The preceding half-hour, with three interviews, each focused in entwining ways around how the voice speaks to us and why, as well as a description of a favorite sound, is a good example of what podcasting can do: listen, invite us to do more of that, more closely, and, as one of the interviewees says at the end, to consider why the podcast is weird, with a small following—”It’s not popular because it’s weird,” is the outgoing line.

    There’s much transparency between what we’re supposed to hear and what we hear anyway. Maybe we have reality media to blame for that—or to thank. And it’s still what I consider, along with programs here and there that come out of the radio as a podcast (like some of those no longer airing on Australia’s ABC, such as Soundproof), a bit of a treasure.

    Since the folks at Constellations talked here at Earlid about veering us away from ‘movies in our head,’ I’d be curious to hear their thoughts on how the launch of this episode opens up that conversation, in odd little ways.

  10. I thought that first episode of The Organist’s new season was brilliant – in part because Andrew brought his presence and reality more into it which allowed the individual pieces to have a cohesion that wasn’t forced and didn’t change what each piece did on its own. It provided a framework to stand on that I thought was really valuable and personal.

    This is something more podcasts can learn from – how to provide a framework that brings just enough cohesion without requiring a replication of format and structure that eventually dulls itself.

    My overall feeling is we need to stop thinking about podcasting success (whatever success is) like it’s building a chair. There is no equation or set of instructions that if done right means you have succeeded. Some stuff works and some stuff doesn’t.

    There are also distinctions of success. So, a successful episode could be in a podcast that as a whole is not that great. Does that mean the episode matters less? How do we bring this into the question of production at large?

    By and large I think a show can be flexible to experiment if it establishes that as part of its foundation and framework. Unfortunately most try to dial in to some immediately recognizable, easily reducible specificity for ad buys. Starting with that perspective does not usually lead to an expansive of form, just a drilling into the norm. But, if people take a chance on something more you can then change the playing field slowly, but surely.

    KCRW I think has a lot of great examples of how from the beginning you can establish a show built on a flexibility of its structure and sonic output and I am hearing more of this as podcasting is starting to grow a bit of its own wings as a form.

  11. Joan Schuman

    Garrett, lately I find my ‘definition’ of what’s an experiment and what’s conventional to be less boxed in. Something might have the veneer of ‘scaffolding’ and support and yet, you listen and recognize the content is really unconventional.

    Is it important to note that the unconventional take-away feeling one gets is as relevant as whether the piece or podcast itself has significant financial support? If the latter is a commitment to something that shares a certain sensibility, I would trust that it’s an ‘experiment’ and not rabidly focused on data, metrics, etc. It’s a commitment to put programming first—seemingly—worrying less (or risking more) when it comes to audience.

    An online, nonprofit, international collaboration—Radio Web MACBA—has some interviews uploaded that offer insight into an artist’s process. And there’s nothing too experimental about its stylizing. But where will you hear an artist talking about her toy piano practice, for example, but in their “Probes” series?

    Or like you’re saying, about the radio station in the States, KCRW-FM, they consistently partner with ‘weird’ ‘otherly’ podcasts, such as The Organist; also Lost Notes, which you mentioned in our recorded conversation (in the “Transmission” section of this forum’s contributor conversations); certainly Here Be Monsters. And they also make money from podcast classes for the novice wannabe. It feels like these offerings are significantly more rampant than educational resources for indie radio makers.

    Nick van der Kolk, of Love + Radio, also mentions that podcasting is sort of venturing further from its ‘Classic Hollywood’ days and that might be a good thing for those butterfly wings you mention.

    One of the recent episodes of Benjamen Walker’s Theory of Everything (a podcast that also shares with Love + Radio the bolstering network platform, Radiotopia) brought up the idea of ads on podcasts. It’s in the context of his current series on the ‘fake.’ Certainly he’s making fun (and light) of ads (real or fake) immersed in quirky styles of storytelling. Starlee Kine raises a point: No one, she says, is debating why this was allowed to happen in public-radioesque conventions, nor even in artistic approaches to podcasting. She’s adamant that it should have been questioned all along.

  12. Joan Schuman

    Constellations (the podcast producers’ ideas are featured in the “Circuit” section above) has a growing compendium of resources for listening, both currently ‘live’ and archived when the listening source has gone dark. I like to dip in and revel in this ear-feast frequently.

  13. Joan Schuman

    World Listening Day – today, July 18 (commemorates R. Murray Schafer’s birthday). Happy listening people.

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