Because while Archewell’s Christmas episode performed respectably for Spotify – it peaked at seven in the podcast charts – it’s a long way behind blockbusters such as My Favourite Murder, which brought in $15 million in revenue in 2019. The other difference, of course, is that hosts Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark aren’t sitting in an air-conditioned room somewhere in Los Angeles talking about “connection”.
My Favourite Murder is immaculately researched long-form journalism in audio form. Whether immaculately researched long-form journalism in audio form is worth $15 million a year is another matter – but they aren’t merely delivering fluffy rhetoric about “empathy” and “healing”, or annoying us by how often they say “guys”.
Even those podcasters who give the impression of talking off the top of their heads at least put in the hours. Joe Rogan, who brought the Joe Rogan Experience to Spotify in a $100 million multi-year deal, has been accused of providing a platform for conspiracy theorists and anti-trans activists. Whatever about his politics, though, nobody could accuse him of not putting his shoulder to the wheel, with each of his episodes clocking in at a 180 minutes-plus running time. That’s a year’s supply of Archewell in a single week.
The best podcasts, moreover, convey an outsider perspective. The reason Marc Maron’s WTF is such a sensation is because this middle-aged comedian, having been kicked in the teeth by life over and over, brings a hard-worn empathy to his celebrity interviews. He’s lived a life and a half and you can hear it as he leans into the mic.
Can the same be said for the Archewell team? In other instances, performers use the medium to do things that would be impossible on TV or radio. Talkshow host Conan O’Brien, for example, turned to podcasting when he felt hamstrung by the format-driven world of American television. Is that true of Harry and Meghan? Could Archwell – whatever this fuzzy, affirmative, “woke” brand is supposed to represent – only have succeeded as a podcast?
