One Pea in a Pod(cast) (He 2019)

In his chapter “To Each Their Own Bubble: Mobile spaces of sound in the City”, Michael Bull analyzes the implications of how listening to music and phone calls changes a listener’s public environment into a private space; however, a form of sound media that Bull lacks to consider is podcasts. This is especially interesting considering Bull’s focus on the level of intimacy which he believes sound can create in public spaces, because I argue that podcasts are much more intimate than music and - sometimes - phone calls. Podcasts, like music, create a private space for listeners to escape to, but unlike music, they also allow listeners to toe the line of reciprocal versus background listening. Regardless, its value must be considered.


Much like music, podcasts can be utilized to create a private space while physically in public; for example, when I listen to podcasts at the gym or on my walk to class, I’ve immersed myself in the world of the podcast while simultaneously being on a treadmill or walking under trees. Like Bull states in his chapter, podcasts are capable of creating a sanctuary from chaotic public spaces. Personally, I’ve found that after having a stressful day, I like to tune into a comedy podcast just to unwind. Podcasts are like movies in that they provide constant, unique entertainment but do not require listeners to utilize their eyes; it’s a "happy medium". 


Podcasts also allow listeners to choose between listening reciprocally or “backgroundly”. While phone calls essentially force listeners to listen reciprocally (unless the person on the other end of your call is comfortable with speaking into a silent void - that’s okay, I guess), podcasts give listeners more prerogative. While podcast listeners can’t respond directly to the podcasters in the moment - they could potentially leave them a message on their media platforms later - they can be fully focused on the podcast and react (laughing out loud, for example).


Finally, podcasts can be especially valuable to introverts (self-proclaimed or otherwise). Since podcasters tend to open up on their platform about personal stories, they reach a level of intimacy - which Bull finds intrinsic to creating a private space - with their listeners that perhaps some might find difficult to achieve with daily peers. Podcasts, therefore, create an easy opportunity to foster this level of connection. However, podcasts do create an imbalanced dynamic between the podcaster and the listener; while the listener knows the podcaster on an intimate level, the same cannot be said about the listener from the podcaster’s point of view. This implication reveals a lack in reciprocal listening in podcasts that perhaps a phone call would possess. On the other hand, music lacks this intimacy-imbalance completely because personal stories aren’t being shared through this media (unless, however, you’d like to argue that songs are musical renditions of personal stories. I could see that). 


In essence, while Bull did not consider podcasts in his analysis, podcasts are a valuable vehicle for creating private spaces when listeners utilize them in public areas.


Citations:
Michael Bull, “To Each Their Own Bubble: Mobile spaces of sound in the City,” in Mediaspace: place, scale, and culture in a media age, ed. Michael Bull (New York City: Routledge 2004), 275-293.

Comments

Josh Miller said…
I think this is a very valuable point about Bull's article. In some ways, podcasts can create a much more intimate space for the listener because they get to decide which podcasts they listen to. This allows them to specifically tailor the information they receive in the space in a way that cannot be done with radio or even specific music selection.
Lauryn McSpadden said…
I agree that podcasts are a great example of how we use sound media to transform public spaces into private ones. I struggle with the idea that they are necessarily more intimate than music. The level of intimacy, I would argue, varies depending on what kind of music or podcast one chooses to listen to. However, I do find the idea of choosing podcasts as a negation of public space to be intriguing in a way that choosing music is not. With music, the individual chooses a sound experience that is likely completely different from the sounds of everyday life around them – curated sounds imbued with rhythm, harmony, form instead of the random cacophony of everyday life. With the podcast, as you point out, there is a certain level of reciprocity. In fact, the sound of conversation and dialogue involved in the podcast is likely very similar to the sound landscape of the public space the individual is in. The decision to listen to a podcast seems to greater reflect Bull's idea that we use sound media as a way to escape and privatize public space. In some ways, it reminds me of our discussion of ASMR, where listeners choose intimacy by listening to a stranger perform sounds. In this case, individuals are placed in the forced intimacy of public spaces with strangers and rely on sound media as an escape from such experiences.
Sydney said…
I hadn’t thought of the role that podcasts would play in the privatization of public space. I think the point you make about the types of listening engaged when listening to a podcast is very interesting. I agree that podcasts tend to be more intimate than music, as they involve more engagement. While music you can listen to more passively, or background as mentioned, podcasts require a higher level of attention or focus. Since podcasts are frequently used as educational tools, I wonder how Bull would feel about people listening to podcasts to educate themselves about issues going on in other communities. While they may have “fallen silent I the urban street,” they are tuned in to other communities and not immersed on their own concerns. I wonder how the idea of listening to educational podcasts relates to Bull’s point that geographic space has been harder to substantiate in urban environments.
Roschan Rao said…
I definitely understand the distinction in intimacy and reciprocation for phone calls vs podcasts, I was having a hard time justifying the difference in music vs podcasts. As you mention in your post, music also has a level of personal intimacy to it, as it often comes from and evokes significant emotion. Maybe the difference then is that podcasts are more accessible, more tangible, more specific? Usually a love song leaves you with a sense of love, longing, nostalgia, sadness, etc -- but not usually for something specific. But with a podcast, a story about love is much more directed -- I know that this person talking about love is referencing a specific story about her and her mom, for example. Maybe the difference is that podcasts evoke different emotions than music. In your post you talk about listening to a comedic podcast -- I think it would be a lot harder to find a comedic song than a comedic podcast. Do these different emotions evoked with different media affect our private space?
I think you raised a lot of interesting points here, but do you think that in some ways music is inherently conversational? Music is resonant because of its relatability and to a certain extent do you think that that makes it a conversation in similar ways as a podcast? Listening to music can also be resonant, and build independent worlds, in ways that podcasts or even speech can’t. After all, certain codes, notes, etc, have the potential for significant physiological and neurological effects. Having such a personal and in many ways invisible relationship with music, do you think that this builds an even more “private” space and experience than podcasts do?
Dylan said…
I absolutely believe podcasts create private space. I think it's interesting to consider the emotional intimacy and connections created between a podcaster and the listener, especially in podcasts containing advice or emotional subjects. That's something I think about a lot when I listen to podcasts, and perhaps part of the reason I have trouble getting into them. It does feel nice to feel connected to someone that way, but it's also odd because they're not physically present or experiencing that connection the same way I am. I think about this when I listen to music sometimes too - here I am having this deeply emotional experience and the creator has absolutely no idea. It's a strange feeling to have in a private space.