Top Podcasters Roundtable: Shaping the Future of Storytelling

Introduction by Ira Glass 

“Podcasting didn’t begin as an industry. It began as voices in rooms—people telling stories with nothing but their breath and a microphone. When This American Life first dipped into the medium, we didn’t know we were lighting a fuse. But look around: podcasts have become where people go for news, for laughter, for therapy, for connection.

Today, we’re not just talking about shows—we’re talking about a cultural force. A force that shapes how we think, how we connect, and how we remember. From true crime to comedy, from sports to philosophy, podcasting has become the world’s most personal stage.

So as we sit down for this roundtable, we’re asking a bigger question: not just where podcasting is today, but where it might take us tomorrow. These voices you’ll hear aren’t just hosts—they’re guides, each carrying a different piece of the story. And together, they’ll help us imagine what podcasting can become.

(Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event)

Topic 1: The Power and Responsibility of Storytelling in Shaping Reality

Participants:

• Ira Glass (Moderator) – This American Life
• Joe Rogan – The Joe Rogan Experience
• Michael Barbaro – The Daily
• Ashley Flowers – Crime Junkie
• Josh Clark – Stuff You Should Know

Ira Glass:
When we sit down behind a microphone, we’re not just entertaining—we’re framing reality for millions of people. Here’s my first question: Do you believe storytelling today has more power to shape how people see the world than journalism, politics, or even schools?

Joe Rogan:
Absolutely. If you think about it, stories reach people in a way straight facts don’t. You could read a headline about climate change and shrug, but if you listen to someone’s personal story about losing their home in a flood, suddenly it’s real. That’s what podcasts do: they humanize abstract issues. Politicians argue, teachers teach, but storytelling sneaks under your defenses.

Ashley Flowers:
I agree, but I also worry about it. With true crime, I’m constantly aware that I’m telling stories about real people’s lives and tragedies. That shapes public opinion on justice, safety, even how women think about walking alone at night. Sometimes I lie awake at night asking: am I empowering people with awareness, or am I scaring them into paranoia? That’s power—and it’s heavy.

Michael Barbaro:
From my seat at The Daily, I see storytelling as journalism’s sharpest tool. We take complicated policy debates and boil them down to a single family, a single worker, a single voice. It’s not manipulation—it’s clarity. Schools and politicians are vital, but in terms of shaping what people wake up thinking about each morning? Storytelling wins.

Josh Clark:
I think it’s broader than shaping opinions—it’s shaping memory. People don’t remember bullet points; they remember narratives. If you tell someone about the origin of electricity in a dry list, they’ll forget. But if you wrap it in a story about Franklin and his kite, it sticks for life. That’s the secret power: storytelling is the glue of knowledge.

Ira Glass:
That’s a powerful frame. Let me push us deeper: When the story conflicts with the truth—when the arc of the narrative makes it tempting to simplify or dramatize—how do you draw the line?

Ashley Flowers:
This is where true crime gets messy. Real life rarely ties up neatly. Sometimes families never get closure, sometimes suspects aren’t caught, sometimes the story ends with silence. I’ve had to resist the urge to make endings cleaner. But I’ve learned that honesty—even if it leaves listeners uncomfortable—is more respectful than crafting a perfect narrative that isn’t real.

Joe Rogan:
For me, the line is free speech versus fact. I have people on who are controversial. Some say things that later get disproven. I don’t see my job as editing the story to make it palatable. My job is to put conversations into the world. But yeah, that has consequences. The internet magnifies mistakes. Still, I’d rather risk too much honesty than hide complexity.

Michael Barbaro:
We’re guided by verification. On The Daily, every sentence goes through layers of checks. That means sometimes the story loses a little of its dramatic punch, but what we gain is trust. If listeners know that even the small details have been verified, they’re more likely to come back. The danger of over-simplifying isn’t just inaccuracy—it’s losing credibility.

Josh Clark:
Chuck and I deal with this a lot. You start an episode about, say, the history of pirates. The story wants to be swashbuckling, dramatic, swords and treasure. But the truth is often paperwork, trade routes, and politics. We learned to lean into that gap. Tell the truth, and if the truth is boring, you just have to tell it better.

Ira Glass:
So the final angle I want to ask: If stories are this powerful, what responsibility do we carry as podcasters to protect our listeners from harm—or to lead them toward good?

Michael Barbaro:
Responsibility is everything. If you have millions of listeners, your microphone is a pulpit. I think about the morning commute—people beginning their day with our voice. We owe them clarity, context, and fairness. Otherwise we’re not just failing at journalism, we’re failing at stewardship of attention.

Joe Rogan:
I think responsibility is a slippery word. I don’t want to be a preacher. I don’t want to tell people what to think. My responsibility is to host conversations honestly, to explore. But listeners do bear some responsibility too—they need to engage critically, not just take everything at face value.

Ashley Flowers:
But Joe, not everyone can engage critically all the time. Some people are vulnerable, grieving, scared. When I tell a story about a victim, I’m not just entertaining—I’m representing their life. That’s sacred. My responsibility is to be compassionate, never exploitative.

Josh Clark:
I’d add curiosity to responsibility. Our job is to make people more curious, less certain. If someone walks away from our podcast thinking, “I should look this up myself,” then we’ve succeeded. Protecting people isn’t just shielding them—it’s equipping them.

Ira Glass (closing reflections):
Listening to each of you, I hear the tension between freedom and responsibility, honesty and entertainment, story and truth. Maybe that’s the heart of podcasting itself: we’re all building bridges between chaos and clarity, laughter and tragedy, fact and feeling. And we do it one story at a time.

Topic 2: The Future of Intimacy and Connection in a Digital World

Participants:

• Alex Cooper (Call Her Daddy) – Moderator
• Theo Von (This Past Weekend)
• Brit Prawat (Crime Junkie)
• Jason Bateman (SmartLess)
• Travis Kelce (New Heights)

Alex Cooper:
We’re living in a time when people confess their deepest secrets to podcasters they’ve never met. Let me ask you all: Do you think digital intimacy—this sense of closeness people feel with us through their headphones—can ever replace real-world relationships?

Theo Von:
I don’t think it replaces them, but it fills a gap. I’ve had listeners tell me they feel like I’m their buddy, like I’m sitting on the porch with them after a long day. For a guy who grew up lonely sometimes, that means a lot. But here’s the thing: if people start leaning only on digital voices, they might forget how messy and awkward real relationships are supposed to be.

Brit Prawat:
Yes! Our fans say we’re their “true crime best friends.” They listen while they drive, while they clean, while they go through hard times. But there’s a bittersweet edge—sometimes people write, “You’re the only voices I hear every day.” That breaks my heart. It shows intimacy can be created digitally, but it shouldn’t be the only intimacy someone has.

Jason Bateman:
I think of it like a parallel relationship. SmartLess isn’t a replacement for someone’s spouse or best friend, but it’s like a standing weekly dinner with three guys who make you laugh. I don’t think that’s dangerous—it’s companionship, which humans crave. But nothing replaces the chaos of face-to-face human connection, where you can’t just press pause.

Travis Kelce:
In sports, fans feel like they know me because they’ve seen me cry after games or joke with Jason on the pod. That’s real emotion, but it’s also a performance. The intimacy is genuine, but it’s framed. I think the future is hybrid: digital connection as an anchor, real-world connection as the heartbeat.

Alex Cooper:
So if digital closeness is real but incomplete, here’s my next question: How do you keep it authentic, when you know millions are listening and intimacy can so easily become performance?

Jason Bateman:
That’s the trick of comedy—we’re performing, but the audience can tell if we’re faking it. Authenticity comes from vulnerability. If I share something unpolished—like me fumbling through a question or admitting I was wrong—that’s when people lean in. Authenticity isn’t about being raw all the time; it’s about not hiding the mess.

Theo Von:
I feel that. Sometimes I overshare—about my childhood, my struggles—and afterward I think, “Man, should I have kept that private?” But when I hear someone say it helped them laugh at their own pain, it feels worth it. The line between performance and truth is blurry, but I try to stay on the side of honesty, even if it costs me a joke.

Brit Prawat:
For Ashley and me, it’s about being consistent. Listeners trust us because we don’t play characters—we really are who we are on the mic. Authenticity means I’m not trying to be cooler, funnier, or smarter than I am. I’m just… me. And I think people connect to that ordinariness.

Travis Kelce:
In football, you can’t fake authenticity. If you drop the ball, you dropped it. On the podcast, Jason and I keep that same rule—we don’t edit out the dumb stuff. People like that. They don’t want perfection; they want personality.

Alex Cooper:
That brings me to the last question: If intimacy through podcasts is here to stay, what responsibility do we have to guide how people use that intimacy in their own lives?

Brit Prawat:
I think our job is to remind listeners they’re not alone—but also to encourage them to turn outward. When someone writes to me saying, “You helped me survive a tough year,” I thank them but also say, “Find a friend to share your story with too.” We can be the spark, but they need more than our voices.

Theo Von:
I feel like my responsibility is to make people laugh so they feel lighter—and maybe more willing to go out and connect for real. If they leave my show with a smile, maybe they’ll be kinder to the next person they meet in line at the grocery store. That ripple effect is the best responsibility I can take on.

Jason Bateman:
For me, it’s about balance. We can’t carry the weight of being someone’s entire support system. But we can show by example—through humor, through vulnerability—that it’s okay to reach out, to joke, to argue, to forgive. If our listeners take even 10% of that into their personal lives, then the intimacy has done its job.

Travis Kelce:
Yeah, I think of it like being a teammate. On the field, I can lift guys up, but they still have to play their part. Our listeners are like teammates too. We hype them, they hype us. But at the end of the day, they’ve got to go live their own game.

Alex Cooper (closing reflections):
What I’m hearing is that digital intimacy is real, but it’s fragile. It can comfort, inspire, and even heal—but it should push people back into the world, not pull them away from it. The future isn’t digital versus real—it’s digital guiding us back to what’s real.

Topic 3: Comedy, Tragedy, and Truth: Why We Crave Extremes

Participants:

• Joe Rogan (The Joe Rogan Experience) – Moderator
• Theo Von (This Past Weekend)
• Sean Hayes (SmartLess)
• Ashley Flowers (Crime Junkie)
• Ira Glass (This American Life)

Joe Rogan:
People spend their mornings listening to tragic stories of murder, their afternoons with comedians, and their evenings with serious journalism. It makes me wonder: Why do humans crave such extremes—comedy on one end, tragedy on the other—rather than just balance?

Theo Von:
For me, it’s because life is both things all the time. My childhood was rough, but if you can’t laugh about a broken-down car or a fight at the Waffle House, you’ll drown in it. People want to feel the sharp edges because it proves they’re alive. Comedy keeps the tragedy from crushing you.

Ashley Flowers:
I think it’s about control. True crime listeners want to stare into the abyss of tragedy but from a safe place—their car, their kitchen, their earbuds. It’s the same reason horror movies are popular. It lets you feel danger without being in danger. And sometimes, laughter is the only way to release the tension afterward.

Sean Hayes:
Comedy is catharsis. When Jason, Will, and I riff, listeners tell us they laugh out loud in the middle of the grocery store. That joy is an antidote. But here’s the thing: the reason it works is because they’ve already lived through or heard the hard stuff. Comedy and tragedy aren’t opposites—they’re dance partners.

Ira Glass:
Narrative thrives on extremes. A story without conflict doesn’t move. We crave tragedy because it mirrors our fears; we crave comedy because it relieves them. They’re two doors into the same house: the search for meaning. Without both, stories—and maybe life—would feel flat.

Joe Rogan:
Alright, but here’s where I wrestle: When you put comedy next to tragedy, do you risk making the tragedy smaller—or worse, disrespecting it? How do you know where the line is?

Sean Hayes:
That’s a tough one. Timing is everything. You don’t crack a joke in the middle of someone’s grief—but humor can slip in once the rawness eases. I think the line is empathy: if the joke acknowledges pain without mocking it, then it can actually honor the tragedy by helping people process it.

Theo Von:
I walk that line all the time. I’ll tell a story about my mom leaving me at a gas station, and the crowd laughs. But I’m not laughing at the pain—I’m laughing at how absurd life is. The line is crossed when you treat someone else’s tragedy like it’s your punchline. If you own your own pain, that’s fair game.

Ashley Flowers:
Exactly. For us, comedy rarely belongs in the podcast because we’re talking about victims. Their stories aren’t for laughs. But that doesn’t mean listeners don’t laugh elsewhere. Maybe that’s the natural rhythm—hear something tragic, then go find a SmartLess episode to lighten the mood. The key is: comedy should never erase the dignity of tragedy.

Ira Glass:
I’d add: the danger isn’t just disrespect—it’s distortion. If you lean too hard on comedy when tragedy is present, you risk trivializing reality. But if you lean only on tragedy, you risk overwhelming people until they shut down. The craft is in weaving both without betraying either.

Joe Rogan:
Last thing I want to push us on: If extremes are so powerful, do we have a responsibility as storytellers and podcasters to guide how people consume them—or is it just our job to provide and let the audience figure it out?

Ashley Flowers:
I feel an enormous responsibility. We’re dealing with victims’ lives, with grief that’s ongoing. If people binge my podcast and start to feel hopeless, I’ve failed. So I try to end episodes with remembrance, with humanity—something that lifts them a little, even after tragedy.

Sean Hayes:
I think responsibility is built into our tone. We don’t set ourselves up as guides, but the way we interact—our kindness to each other, our playful spirit—models something. People learn from that even if we’re not trying to teach.

Theo Von:
I lean the other way. I don’t want to guide people—I want to be honest about my own chaos and let them decide what to do with it. If someone finds healing in that, amazing. If not, maybe it wasn’t for them. My job is honesty, not control.

Ira Glass:
I think we guide whether we intend to or not. Every editorial choice—what we include, what we cut—shapes how people understand extremes. So yes, there’s responsibility. Not to dictate, but to be aware that our framing influences how listeners metabolize both laughter and grief.

Joe Rogan (closing reflections):
Listening to all of you, I think the truth is this: people crave comedy and tragedy because life itself demands both. Our job isn’t to tame those extremes—it’s to give people a safe space to feel them, to laugh without guilt and to mourn without despair. The balance isn’t ours to decide—it’s theirs to live.

Topic 4: Sports, Celebrity, and the Myth of the Modern Hero

Participants:

• Jason Kelce (New Heights) – Moderator
• Travis Kelce (New Heights)
• Will Arnett (SmartLess)
• Michael Barbaro (The Daily)
• Joe Rogan (The Joe Rogan Experience)

Jason Kelce:
Growing up, people looked to warriors, saints, or presidents as heroes. Today, they look to athletes, actors, podcasters—even us. So my first question is: What does it mean to be seen as a “hero” in today’s culture?

Will Arnett:
Honestly? Sometimes it means you’re just the guy on the poster. Celebrity doesn’t equal heroism, but people confuse the two. I’ve had people tell me they “look up to” me just because I played Batman’s voice in LEGO movies. That’s flattering, but let’s be real—it’s not heroism, it’s branding.

Travis Kelce:
Yeah, but branding or not, it comes with responsibility. When kids wear my jersey, they’re not thinking about branding. They think I’m a role model. That pressure can be heavy—you have to ask yourself, “Am I living in a way that’s worthy of this spotlight?”

Michael Barbaro:
From the journalist’s seat, I think modern heroism is less about moral perfection and more about visibility. People follow figures who feel authentic. Athletes, actors, podcasters—they embody aspirations, flaws and all. That’s why so many latch onto you two, Jason and Travis: you show the grind and the stumbles, not just the highlights.

Joe Rogan:
I think “hero” is a dangerous word. It sets people up for disappointment. If you make me your hero, sooner or later I’ll say something that pisses you off. I prefer to think of myself as a guide, not a hero. Heroes are on pedestals; guides walk beside you.

Jason Kelce:
So if “hero” is complicated, here’s what I want to know: Where’s the line between inspiring people and misleading them? When does the myth of the modern hero become harmful?

Michael Barbaro:
The harm comes when stories get edited too neatly. If media only shows the glory, the wins, the awards, people start to believe success is effortless. That myth hurts young people who then feel like failures when their lives don’t match the highlight reel. The line is crossed when the struggle is erased.

Travis Kelce:
Exactly. If all people saw was me catching touchdowns, they’d think it’s easy. What they don’t see is the training, the pain, the missed plays. So I try to be open about that, even on the podcast—showing the behind-the-scenes. The myth is dangerous if it makes people forget we’re human.

Will Arnett:
I’ve seen that in Hollywood too. People project perfection onto actors, and when those actors crash, it’s like betrayal. That’s why I lean into self-deprecating humor—it’s my way of reminding people, “I’m not a myth. I’m a guy who forgets his lines sometimes.”

Joe Rogan:
The myth becomes harmful when it silences honesty. If I had to live as “hero Joe Rogan,” I’d never admit my mistakes. That’s poison—for me and for listeners. The antidote is transparency. If you screw up, say it. The truth is more inspiring than the myth.

Jason Kelce:
I love that. Last question for us: If the myth of the modern hero is flawed, what should we be offering instead? What’s the model we want to pass down?

Will Arnett:
I’d say the model is resilience. People don’t need untouchable heroes—they need to see people fall down, crack jokes about it, and get back up. That’s more useful than perfection.

Michael Barbaro:
I’d offer context. A “hero” isn’t someone without flaws, but someone who tries to rise responsibly in their moment. If we can frame celebrity that way—real humans making imperfect choices—then maybe the word “hero” regains some meaning.

Joe Rogan:
For me, the model is curiosity. A true role model isn’t someone who tells you what to think, but someone who shows you how to ask better questions. That’s what I try to do—explore, debate, wonder out loud. If people pick up curiosity, that’s a win.

Travis Kelce:
I’d say teamwork. No one becomes a “hero” alone. Every touchdown I score is because 10 other guys did their job. If we taught kids that heroes are built in community, not isolation, it would change how they see the world.

Jason Kelce (closing reflections):
So maybe the myth isn’t about flawless heroes anymore. Maybe it’s about real people showing resilience, curiosity, context, and teamwork. If that’s the standard, then being in the spotlight doesn’t mean living as a statue—it means living as an example of trying. And maybe that’s the kind of heroism we actually need.

Topic 5: The Next Frontier: Where Podcasting Goes from Here

Participants:

• Michael Barbaro (The Daily) – Moderator
• Alex Cooper (Call Her Daddy)
• Ira Glass (This American Life)
• Josh Clark (Stuff You Should Know)
• Theo Von (This Past Weekend)

Michael Barbaro:
Podcasting has gone from niche to mainstream, from hobbyists to billion-dollar deals. But here’s the first thing I want to ask: Do you think podcasting has reached its peak, or are we still just scratching the surface of what it can be?

Alex Cooper:
We’re nowhere near the peak. When I signed my Spotify deal, people said it was “the ceiling,” but I think it’s just the beginning. The intimacy of podcasting is unlike anything else. Video platforms are crowded, but audio is still expanding. I see podcasts becoming the default way people build a personal brand—faster than YouTube, faster than TikTok.

Ira Glass:
I think we’re in the adolescence of the medium. It’s no longer the scrappy experiment it was when This American Life spun off early podcasts, but it’s also not fully grown. The next stage is about sophistication—storytelling that pushes boundaries in form, not just in reach. We’ve told simple narratives; now we’ll learn to weave complexity in ways we haven’t yet tried.

Josh Clark:
I’d argue we’re only scratching the surface in education. There’s still an untapped potential for deep-dive shows on science, history, philosophy. Podcasts can be the new textbooks—living, evolving, accessible to anyone with a phone. If the next frontier is anything, it’s turning passive listening into active learning.

Theo Von:
I don’t know about peaks or textbooks, but I know this: people want connection. Whether we’re scratching surfaces or climbing peaks, podcasting’s future is about being less lonely. If it keeps making people feel like they got a friend in their pocket, it’ll keep growing. Simple as that.

Michael Barbaro:
So growth is still ahead, but let me press you: What form will that growth take? Will it be bigger shows, new technology, or maybe something we can’t even imagine yet?

Alex Cooper:
It’s already shifting toward video. Fans want to see you, not just hear you. The future is hybrid—clips on TikTok, long episodes on Spotify, live tours. Podcasts won’t just live in your ears; they’ll live everywhere.

Josh Clark:
Technology will expand it, but I think the real innovation is interactivity. Imagine a podcast where you can ask a question mid-episode, and AI generates an answer in the host’s voice. It won’t replace us, but it’ll add a new layer—like a conversation that never ends.

Ira Glass:
For me, the growth isn’t about tech, it’s about artistry. Just like film matured from silent movies to modern cinema, podcasts will evolve from talking heads to fully immersive narrative experiences. Soundscapes, layered voices, experimental structures. That’s what excites me.

Theo Von:
Man, I just picture podcasts at barbershops. Like, your barber’s talking, but it’s a podcast. Or your Uber driver? Podcast. It’s less about tech and more about life itself becoming one long conversation.

Michael Barbaro:
(laughing) That’s a wild image, Theo. Let’s end with this: If you could define the responsibility of the next generation of podcasters, what should it be? What do we owe the medium as it grows?

Josh Clark:
I’d say: keep curiosity alive. Don’t turn it into just another marketing machine. If every podcast becomes a brand extension, the magic dies. The responsibility is to keep wonder at the center.

Alex Cooper:
I think the responsibility is to own your voice and protect your audience. The next generation will face even more noise, more competition. Authenticity will be their currency. If you can stay true to yourself, you’ll always have an edge.

Theo Von:
For me, it’s making people laugh and feel lighter. If the next wave of podcasters forgets to make folks smile, then we’ve lost something human. Responsibility doesn’t have to be heavy—it can be joy.

Ira Glass:
I’d frame it as this: responsibility means honoring the craft. Respecting the story, respecting the listener, respecting the truth. If podcasting is to become the art form it deserves to be, it needs creators who treat it with care.

Michael Barbaro (closing reflections):
So the next frontier isn’t one thing—it’s many: intimacy becoming global, education becoming accessible, comedy softening loneliness, artistry maturing, technology transforming. The responsibility we share is to grow the medium without breaking its heart. If we do that, then podcasting isn’t at its peak—it’s at its beginning.

Final Thoughts by Alex Cooper

You know what I love about podcasting? It’s messy. It’s unfiltered. It’s real. People don’t come to us for perfect scripts—they come because they want to feel something. They want to hear us laugh, argue, cry, confess. That’s the intimacy. That’s the magic.

We’ve spent this roundtable looking at power, connection, comedy, heroism, and the future—and what it proves is simple: podcasting isn’t slowing down. It’s evolving. We’re not just voices in headphones anymore—we’re voices shaping culture, voices breaking barriers, voices giving people permission to be themselves.

So where does podcasting go from here? Anywhere we dare to take it. As long as we stay authentic, as long as we respect our listeners, and as long as we keep pushing the boundaries of what a story can do, the future isn’t just bright—it’s limitless.

And honestly, that’s why I believe we’re just getting started.

Short Bios:

Joe Rogan – Host of The Joe Rogan Experience, one of the most downloaded podcasts in the world, known for long-form interviews spanning comedy, science, politics, and culture.

Ashley Flowers – Co-founder and host of Crime Junkie, one of the top true crime podcasts, recognized for her storytelling approach and dedication to victims’ stories.

Brit Prawat – Co-host of Crime Junkie alongside Ashley Flowers, bringing a conversational and relatable tone to true crime storytelling.

Michael Barbaro – Host of The Daily from The New York Times, acclaimed for delivering in-depth news analysis through intimate storytelling.

Alex Cooper – Creator and host of Call Her Daddy, a trailblazing show on intimacy, relationships, and culture, with one of Spotify’s biggest podcast deals.

Theo Von – Comedian and host of This Past Weekend, known for his raw humor and candid reflections on life, family, and identity.

Jason Bateman – Actor and co-host of SmartLess, blending comedy and candid interviews with Hollywood insiders and cultural figures.

Sean Hayes – Actor and co-host of SmartLess, bringing humor, warmth, and spontaneity to celebrity interviews.

Will Arnett – Actor and co-host of SmartLess, known for his comedic timing and ability to balance levity with insight.

Josh Clark – Co-host of Stuff You Should Know, a pioneering educational podcast covering diverse topics with curiosity and clarity.

Charles W. “Chuck” Bryant – Co-host of Stuff You Should Know with Josh Clark, blending humor and research into engaging explorations of history, science, and culture.

Ira Glass – Creator and host of This American Life, widely regarded as a pioneer of narrative storytelling in radio and podcasting.

Jason Kelce – Former NFL player and co-host of New Heights with his brother Travis, known for authenticity, humor, and insight into sports culture.

Travis Kelce – NFL star and co-host of New Heights, blending football insight with personal stories and cultural commentary.