EarRelevant

Podcast Discovery: Awful Grace paints deeply personal stories with a sensitive brush

Robert Andersson's Awful Grace reminds us of something that seems overlooked in the growing podcast mania. That the medium is a launchpad for fresh, thought-provoking, beautiful, outrageous, often unique artistic expression that otherwise would never see the light of day or tickle an auditory nerve.

Not even a year old, Awful Grace, like Love + Radio and Here Be Monsters, is just too potent a home brew to be served up in the narrow confines of public radio as we know it. But when you want to curl up with a good podcast, add this one to your list — even if it doesn't lead to a peaceful night's sleep.

Why Awful Grace even exists is an amazing story in itself. For producer Andersson, it's not just personal expression, it's a kind of therapy — a continuation of when he was in college and searching for something to hold on to. 

The Awful Grace story is also about the journey of a guy with a masters in journalism and love of This American Life who caught the podcasting wave just as it was breaking. It serves as a case history of a one-man producer/interviewer/musician/graphic artist/writer/webmaster team as he defines and shapes his work in progress. 

And when he's not crafting a new Awful Grace episode, the 32-year old Andersson is a paid intern at Chicago's WBEZ, happy to do everything but a Starbucks run while soaking up all he can about the medium. Except for his occasional dip into the gig economy, it's an all-in obsession with artful sonic storytelling.  

Meet six podcasters with an artistic vision looking to make a name for themselves…oh wait, they already have

As far back as Tomak and Loana (as seen in One Million Years B.C. with Raquel Welch) ragged hunter-gatherers banded together in tribes. Skip ahead a bunch of millennia and today it's podcasters huddling for their mutual benefit. But not every new network of audio storytellers can launch like the Radiotopia rocket. The lesser-known shows of The Heard see their fresh-out-of-the-box venture more like an incubator where they can grow their audiences. So for now, after coming up with a cool name, the priority is about honing their shows rather than killing it on Kickstarter.   

And with a growing appreciation for podcasts, The Heard is one-stop shopping: a convenient way to discover and sample well-crafted, often deeply personal spoken word gems. 

Listening to The Heard's founding member Jakob Lewis, producer of the Neighbors podcast, it's obvious the group is giddy about their electronic sandbox of sharing and collaborating. Somewhat surprising since few of the six producers have ever met any of the others face-to-face. That's because they're spread all over the continent, from San Francisco — where Vanessa Lowe helms Nocturne (featured here a few months ago, scroll down) — to Montreal, home of Tally Abecassis and her First Day Back. Completing the lineup are Arrivals, produced by Jonathan Hirsch; Anxious Machine, with Rob McGinley Myers; and How To Be A Girl, following Marlo Mack and her adventures in raising a transgender daughter.

One more interesting fact as we ease into the interview with Jakob Lewis about the who, why and how of The Heard: Only two of its six producers have ever worked in terrestrial radio. [Cue Bob Dylan's The Times They Are A-Changin']

Did the idea for The Heard really come to you during a long bus ride?

Jakob Lewis: The idea for the Heard did in fact come to me on a long bus ride from Nashville to Chicago. I was headed up north to go to the Third Coast International Audio Festival. It's an every-other-year pilgrimage that a lot of radio producers make. It was my first time, and I was pondering my future. I had recently completed the Transom Story Workshop, a two month radio storytelling school in Cape Cod with some of radio’s finest, which was amazing and gave me a real hunger for more creative community — something I didn’t feel a lot of in Nashville. 

I was feeling really inspired by what Radiotopia was creating, but realized that my podcast, Neighbors, was young and still developing — unlike the more established podcasts that were joining forces under PRX. I realized then that rather than look longingly at what someone else was doing, that what I should really do was start to build what I needed.

So as the gentlemen next to me inched his snoring mouth closer and closer to my ear, I started to write down some possible names for a podcast “network” (for lack of a better word at the time). I had no idea what it would look like, but I had an exciting sense of possibility in that moment, and it started me on the path to finding like-minded talented producers to join me in building something cool.

Why do you call The Heard a podcasting "collective" and not a network?

J.L.: We call the Heard a podcasting collective and not a network because we're not a business. We're not a non-profit, or LLC or another businessy thing. We are a group of independent producers. I would give everyone the title, "greatest among equals." There's a paradox there. As we swim in that structural tension, we keep finding new ways to support each other. I've learned so much about myself through working with the five other producers. We have shared our failures and successes. We have edited each other’s narratives. We have scored each other’s work. We do what we can, when we can, for one another, and ask for what we need when we need it. We have a place to be artists together. The benefit of this is that the listener gets to hear something that came out of a Greenwich-Village-artistic-community-type situation rather than a Clear Channel situation. There's something that I don't quite have words for that happens in that kind of community. But what I can say is that there is a foundation of kindness and real mutual care.

What was the selection process in bringing six podcasts together under one banner?

J.L.: Here's how it went down. I had the idea, decided on a name, and met a handful of producers at Third Coast with whom I started to verbalize what had been germinating in my mind. The more I talked about it with people, the more the specifics started clarifying about how this kind of group could be mutually beneficial. I spoke with several talented producers, writers, and storytellers with great shows, but the fit wasn’t quite right or the timing was off. And then I connected with Jonathan Hirsch of ARRVLS. When we started talking about the idea, it was clear that we were coming from the same place, and wanted many of the same things. He quickly came on board with great ideas and incredible enthusiasm. 

That was a real turning point - I found my own energy and momentum really start to intensify with the feeling that my efforts were now doubled.

Tuning into riveting radio from the last place on earth you'd expect

As proof that we go to the ends of the earth to spotlight outstanding radio makers, meet Joaquin Cofreces. Señor Cofreces lives and works in Ushaia, Argentina, the capital of Tierra del Fuego and last stop before Antarctica (average summer high temp. 50.5 degrees). But that's not the remarkable thing about Cofreces. It's what he does in that southernmost city on the planet. 

Calling his work Documentary Radio is way wide of the mark. Applying the Sound Art label makes it seem too precious, even lightweight. So trying to pigeonhole Joaquin and his sonic portfolio is as futile as calling da Vinci a portrait artist. In the universe of audio, he navigates the vast area where sound-rich laps up against storytelling — not unlike his homeland, where the Atlantic meets the Pacific.

Of course, your mileage may vary. Listen and decide for yourself.

For now, let's settle for the cop-out generalization that Cofreces is simply in a different dimension. And like a painter filling an enormous canvas with immense detail that overwhelms the viewer — you can't turn away. 

Follow our conversation with Joaquin and click on the links to some of his most prominent audio. It may be love at first listen, or an acquired taste. But one thing it won't be is boring. [Note: Joaquin did an admirable job of answering our questions in English, though not his first language, and we present it virtually as he wrote it, with only a bit of tweaking for clarity.]

Your work spans many genres. For example, "Dreamland," a sound exploration of Edgar Allen Poe's mystifyingly abstract poem. Where did the idea come from and how long did it take to produce? 

Juan Cofreces: I live in a town on an island at the southern extreme of south America. When I began telling stories with sounds I didn’t know about the existence of sound genres so I mix them with freedom. There was a call for commissioning works of the group radio art from England. The subject was « Dreamland ». I googled that word and took me to Poe’s poem, I read it and many sounds came to my mind. Then the idea began to grow, and the concept became clearer. I sent the proposal and was selected…

Maybe sounds strange but I feel that usually the story finds me. Then the idea follows freely the path of my own limitations, it evolves, and get transformed by the field recordings, reality becomes fiction. The oneiric world had been a big mystery… how it sounds? Images coming through vibrations… It took around 3 months of production. It's made of many recordings I did on my traveling and interpretandohas (interpreting) voices of women from 15 places of the world who participated reading and interpreting Poe´s text and I thank them very much for their collaboration, because I think the diversity of their voices gave a very special atmosphere to the piece!

Talk about your complex piece called Saqueo 01(Sack 101) about the Argentine economic crisis of 2001? 

J.C.: When I began producing this piece (The translation of saqueo is: Pillage, plunder, looting) I didn’t know about the existence of the radio genre called feature. I was working as a radio operator, always searching for sounds, music, fragments to add in a program that I had that was live but made with many production, very professional but unpaid… it was for fun! 

2001 was a complicated year in Argentina that ended with the president leaving the government house in a helicopter. Also was a complicated year in my life … I felt I had to do something with all those feelings. Create a story from that sensation of emptiness. During that year I worked in an alternative radio in Buenos Aires (FM La Tribu) and had the chance to be at the manifestations, recording some material. Then I began to cut fragments of songs, politic speeches, comedians, etc…I wanted to express how is a society from different aspects, as a point of departure for its own circular destiny… It was conceived as a strange kind of opera, with no narrator, the story was told by different people, in most cases known by the Argentinean society, as if they were characters. Also the production process was a puzzle made by fragments of sounds, organized in a time line of the events that happened in Argentina during 2001.

5 years collecting sounds. 1 year of production…Also I had technical problems, an old computer and many textures of recordings….the result was incredible and the unpredictable! It won different prizes around the world (Bienal de Radio in Mexico, Ake Blomstrom award, Rey de España, etc) and gave me the chance to meet the Nobel prize (winner) Gabriel Garcia Marquez! 

You don't have to be a night owl to tap into the reflective vibe of Nocturne

Vanessa Lowe, Nocturne producer and wannabe nightowl.

This is the first in our series about new and ear-worthy podcasts. We're leading off with Nocturne, a well-crafted production that's the brainchild of a San Francisco producer and a veteran composer/sound designer. 

Vanessa Lowe cut her teeth in radio while segeuing out of a career in clinical psychology. Thanks to mentors like Claire Schoen and Rob Rosenthal, she found non-fiction audio storytelling an ideal fit for her background and sensibilities. This feature on the passion of Polaroid photography, co-produced with Megan Jones, helped her earn public radio cred when it aired multiple times last year on WNYC.

Anybody who works in sound-rich radio would love to collaborate with a guy like Kent Sparling. Vanessa calls him Nocturne's resident composer. Sparling brings an impressive resume as a film composer, sound designer and re-recording mixer. You've probably already heard his work on recent flicks like "Her," "Love Is Strange" and "Night Moves."  

Judging by Nocturne's early episodes, there's a lot to like. First, it has a well-defined, even unique, niche — a fundamental ingredient for success according to podcast pros. Natural sounds weave a cool aural tapestry with Sparling's music. There's a meditative quality that echoes the quiet, alternate world when the stars come out.

Is it an acquired taste? Does it work if you're a morning person? Are there enough nighttime themes to enable a long-running series? We checked in with Vanessa to find out.

Why a podcast about night?

Vanessa Lowe: I wanted to do a podcast on a topic that would focus my line of inquiry without being too limiting. Put another way, I’m easily overwhelmed – so I needed a solid theme that would guide me, and help me hone in on ideas. But I don’t want to run out of places to go either. The night fits the bill – I immediately filled pages and pages of my notebook with stories I’d like to do. The funny thing is that so far the stories that have shown up are totally different than the ones I imagined – so I can envision Nocturne going on for a long time. 

What was your inspiration for "Nocturne?"

V.L: The other major reason I chose to do a podcast about the night – I guess what you’d call the inspiration — is that it’s kind of a foreign place to me, and a not altogether comfortable one. I’m not naturally a night person, but I’m very interested in the things that take place there, and the way people relate differently to the night. It’s so amazing how different one half of a 24-hour period can feel from the other – and how we so rarely hear about the details. The night can feel dangerous, exciting, scary, freeing, spiritual… Some people find an incredible creative wellspring and others are paralyzed by fear and discomfort. When I started researching the night I found that there are strong cultural biases against the night, as well as many spiritual and religious rituals in reverence of it. And also, that we are rapidly losing a lot of our connection to the night as our view of the stars fades away with the steady advance of light pollution. What happens to our feelings of connection to the universe as we lose our ability to visually connect with the vast and unknown?

An aspiring Victorian novelist writes new chapters in radio storytelling

Somewhere along the way to becoming one of those names that reoccurs on the NY Times best seller list, Cathy FitzGerald put down her pen and picked up a microphone. The literary world's loss is radio's gain.

Cathy brings a quiet elegance to her work. Short on sound design, long on imagination. Like a good author, she develops characters and tells compelling stories with layers of nuance. Much like eloquent words on a page, those stories resonate and stay with you. Her nearly-whispered narration drawing you in. Her lucid writing carrying you along.

In radio years Cathy is a relative newcomer. In reality, her growing collection is impressive in quality and quantity. Notable is how she explores ideas outside the mainstream— and often out of left field. Here's a short list of our FitzGerald favorites, including her latest.

Feeling the pain in a museum dedicated to broken hearts. 

Channeling Charles Dickens.

Going six feet under with gravediggers who still dig by hand.

A high-flying paraglider juxtaposed with a man behind bars who can only dream of soaring above it all.

Finding out what drives New York cabbies to get behind the wheel. 

If you know much about FitzGerald, you're aware she collaborates with Matt Thompson on many of her pieces. You can read about that here on the Third Coast site (click on the Extras tab). But to keep it simple, our focus was 100% on Cathy and her work. Happily, she was nice enough to answer all of our nosy questions.

You studied for a Ph.D. in literature (Dickens). What was your ultimate goal (we're guessing it wasn't radio)?

FitzGerald:  I don’t like ultimate goals much. I used to think I had to have one, but then around the end of my twenties I realised I wanted to have a life, not a career. Lives are much messier and (like most messy things) are much more fun. So I didn’t have a plan beyond the fact that few things made me happier at that time then spending a rainy Sunday with a pot of tea, a packet of ginger nuts and a very sharp pencil, scribbling on a Victorian novel.  

How did you settle on radio as a form of expression?

CF:  I gave up trying to be a writer. And then it turned out radio was already in my head, waiting for me. 

Where did you learn and polish your craft?

CF:  Well, it might sound daft, but Dickens taught me a lot about radio. I love how his writing is a mix of hyper-realism and surrealism; the practical and the poetic. And then Matt Thompson – who makes radio in an old rockethouse on the Scottish coast – taught me the nuts and bolts of documentary-making, plus the most important thing of the lot: confidence in my own voice. That’s a lifetime’s debt. 

You use music very sparingly, which helps give your work a simple, calm elegance. How would you describe your style?

More than 9000 miles from everything she knew, but right at home in the world of radio

Julie Shapiro is returning to Chicago — briefly. She already has her plane ticket for the Third Coast Festival in November, where no doubt she'll spend most of her time getting hugs from friends and former co-workers who still can't believe she moved halfway around the world. There'll be tears, toasts and late night ear bending. But when it's over, she's headed right back to the land down under. You would too if you were lucky enough to have her job.

In fact, is there a better radio gig anywhere than being Executive Producer of Australian Radio National's Creative Audio Unit? That's what we hoped to find out, and Julie was her usual unselfish self in answering all of our nosy questions.

ABC Radio National appears to be rebooting their spoken word production with the new Creative Audio Unit, headed by you. Can you talk about how it works and your role in developing it?

JULIE:  One thing I realized as soon as I arrived at the ABC, was that I knew very little about existing programming on RN (They've switched from Radio National to just initials — RN — as another familiar broadcaster did a few years back), not to mention the other networks — there's a LOT going on at the ABC, and that's without even really getting into the TV side of things.

Before I started with the Creative Audio Unit (CAU) I was mostly familiar with the documentary and feature programs currently on: 360documentaries, Into the Music and Hindsight, and knew about past shows The Listening Room, Radio Eye, The Night Air, and Street Stories. But RN is packed with smart, engaging content of all stripes: culture, arts, music, politics, religion, design, technology; really every angle/topic covered by American public radio, and inspires the near-religious loyalty among listeners that NPR does. I should add that This American Life airs on RN, and is hugely popular, and by the way, many of the top shows and podcasts in the US are mentioned regularly in my conversations with producers and listeners here — Radiolab, the Truth, Love + Radio, to name a few.

But to your question... with the CAU, RN is supporting in full force the commissioning and production of creative audio content across two weekly, national shows — Radiotonic and Soundproof. This support for creative radio is hardly new around RN — we're carrying the torch forward from a long-respected tradition of sound-rich programming here — from acoustic art to complex documentaries. We'll be working with audio producers in Australia and beyond, and also reaching out to artists, writers, makers from other fields who have not yet worked in radio, but are interested in trying. We plan to collaborate both within the ABC and RN, and with external partners from a wide range of organizations, institutions, and community groups — theatre companies, arthouses, writing centers, museums, festivals, independents... all of the above and everyone else too. We're also keen to explore the beckoning potential of digital technologies, multi-platform presentations, experimentation with new forms, and to push/pull audiences (gently!) into new listening territories.

Our man in Leipzig gets an earful at the International Features Conference

by Connor Walsh
The International Features Conference hit forty this year, and went to Leipzig to go through it's mid-life crisis. After a roller coaster week, the Conference came out the other side with a positive outlook for the future. 

This is my fourth IFC and the format was slightly different to my previous parties, um, conferences. The days were still topped and tailed by workshops from great features makers; the mornings were still spent listening to and discussing features, and the evenings are still a great social event with friends old, new, and annual. But the afternoons, rather than listening and discussing, were presentations on applying a feature-makers mindset to online multimedia and social media. These sessions were perhaps the inappropriate-spending splurge element of the mid-life crisis. What is the right thing to do? The far-out thing to do? The best thing? The acceptable?

I had been to the same venue, the Medienstiftung Leipzig, two years ago for a meeting looking at the radio feature in the digital age. At that time, German online features were in the stone age. The IFC shows they have come a long way. A feature tracing the ages of man through the small ads has an online component; and this examination of a Berlin tram line even includes a "feature machine", putting together stories on the fly according to theme and narrative role. That such a project comes from a public broadcaster, RBB, which is otherwise tied up in legal red tape, is a tribute to the efforts of Jens Jarish and the team of three young producers he enabled. Jens also made a morning presentation about one of his specialities, creating and using scenes in features – scenes meaning action, where things happen, rather than a structural element within an act. Between this, his insight in discussions, and his confidence in what features makers do, Jens was my hero of IFC 2014. 

Peak-beard may have hit hipster-land[http://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2014/apr/16/fashion-conscious-men-warned-we-may-have-reached-peak-beard], but as the official IFC photo shows, the European features maker scene is still at barely 25%.

There were many more presentations, asking how we make radio features more visible online, and about different multimedia skills that can involve or complement crafted sound. It was largely a case of practitioners delivering presentations for the management, showing them what radio producers are doing in other media, or other parts of the same media. 

This process went round in circles for a while, before finally pushing through in the final two full days: in 2014, some people want to craft great radio features, some want to get them out there as much as possible, some want to use their skills and talents in new arenas. The features departments of public broadcasters may be reaching fewer on FM, but the sort of radio they can make and facilitate, is cool. Keep helping each other make it, and get it to new ears. The presentations on the future culminated, and reached a resolution, in an open debate on the final day – all delegates sitting in a circle (well, a double-layered oval) and expressing the restrictions and fears of the public broadcasters, the optimism and balls of the (mostly younger) independents. These two somehow came together at the end and my main hope from IFC 2014 is that the station managements hold onto the positivity, let go of the fear of digital, and regain their excitement of the creative potential in the community of staff and independent sound wranglers. 

The number of programmes played was lower than usual, and the mix was also a bit different – one delegate suggested the selection was designed to spark discussion, rather than showcase the best programmes out there. And indeed the quality of discussions was high, with a wide range of participants. As well as the regular representatives of European public broadcasters, there were independents from the US including the new Artistic Director of The Third Coast Festival Sarah Geis and Transom Workshop graduate Kathy Tu, making a very welcome connection between the creative radio worlds on different sides of the pond. Academia and production in Australia were represented by editor of new journal RadioDoc Review Siobhan McHugh and Eurydice Aroney.

"Stuck In The Bluff" reminds us what local, longer-form investigative reporting can be

Jim Burress could've been satisfied with working his daily assignments in the newsroom at WABE in Atlanta. But his growing itch to go beyond business-as-usual coverage of local politics and state government pushed him out of his comfortable cocoon. An under-reported story about an inner city no man's land was the catalyst. 

Who knew there was a thriving open air heroin market a few blocks from downtown, Georgia Tech and the city's sports and convention center? Who cared that cops appeared to turn their backs on the rampant crime, or at best, tried to confine it to several square blocks? And was a needle exchange program helping or hurting any chance of turning around the neighborhood?

With questions like that abuzz, Burress strapped on a recorder and -- not unlike Kelly McEvers touching down in a war zone -- began strolling those mean streets in what's called The Bluff. He spoke to the stereotype hollow-eyed addicts, as well as the do-gooders handing out clean needles. But he wasn't prepared for people like the grandmotherly user with a twenty-year habit whose visits to The Bluff were as routine as a shopping trip to Wal-Mart.

Four months from first interview to first air date, Jim had more than a few hurdles to clear along the way. We believe the results are award-worthy—not bad for his first-ever doc. Here's a link to Stuck In The Bluff, and Jim's account of the story behind the story. It could serve as a case study for reporters and producers willing to expose a dirty little secret in their own backyards.

How did you discover this story that was apparently off the radar but in full view in downtown Atlanta?

JIM:  I learned of “The Bluff” a few years ago when I was doing a story for Marketplace. The English Ave. area had blocks of homes for sale for less than $10,000. I first tried to get a real estate agent to show me around one of his listings. He agreed, but only if I would arrange a police escort. I did. He still backed out. 

When I drove down to the area myself, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. A half-dozen men chased my car. I didn't know at the time it was because they thought I was there to buy heroin.  

Jim Burress, WABE News

But for the documentary and its focus on the Atlanta Harm Reduction Coalition, credit goes to Thomas Wheatley of Creative Loafing (Atlanta’s alt-weekly newspaper). Last fall we teamed up to do a series on Atlanta-area non-profits, and the idea was completely his. Having done the $10,000 home story, I knew what I might be getting into. 

What was it like to walk the meanest streets of Atlanta with a mic in hand? How much of a fear factor was there?

JIM:  I wasn’t scared. At all, really. Now had I been on my own, sure. I wouldn’t have done it. But walking with the Atlanta Harm Reduction folks—people who have proven to the neighborhood they’re there to help in a non-judgmental, non-threatening way—afforded me a high level of comfort. I got some strange looks. A few people made mention of my skin color (I’m caucasian. The Bluff is strongly African-American). But I had no trouble. 

Did you try to go "stealth" with your mic and recorder so you wouldn't draw attention?

JIM:  Not at all. I never wanted to be perceived as hiding anything—being covert or a threat. I was transparent. I used a large “shotgun” microphone that is impossible to hide. That afforded me the ability to get good sound without having to be in the middle of folks’ daily grind, but I could never claim I was trying to go incognito. I never pressed anyone who didn’t want to talk. I didn’t try to play up any bravado. I asked simple questions. More than any story I can remember, I just talked to folks. I wanted to be as “real” as possible because that’s how I hoped they’d be. And I was surprised at the general warm response I got.

Was there pressure from governments or organizations to not broadcast the story because of whom it might embarrass?

Part II of our interview with the producers of Audio Smut

Left to right: Mitra Kaboli, Kaitlin Prest, Jen Ng, Rae Dooley. Photo by Ted Roeder [tedroeder.com].

By now you know that Audio Smut is full frontal radio (oops, podcast) that might just cause steam to come out of your earbuds. And prepare yourself for more barrier breaking episodes, because season two of provocative listening is right around the corner, just in time for the emotional high of Valentine's. But if you'd like a more heightened Audio Smut experience, be at Union Docs in Brooklyn on Feb. 15 when the show goes live and lusty.

Kaitlin, what's the division of labor between you, Mitra and the rest of the Audio Smut team?

Kaitlin Prest: On the production/creative end, it's so collaborative it's often hard to figure out who is entirely responsible for what—-it can get pretty complicated. We develop everything collaboratively. I edit Mitra, she edits me. We cut each others tape. We follow up on each others' ideas. Last season Rae Dooley, Julia Alsop and Jen Ng were part of that mix as well. For our next season, we're divying up the episodes so that Mitra is driving four, and I'm driving four. But it will likely get all mixed up in the end, as we each help the stories to grow -- and we each have to agree on the final product.

It's only very recently that we developed titles for the staff, for the sake of clarity and efficiency. The show started as a collective, which means that everyone does everything (no matter what their experience level or their level of involvement may be). As is usually the case with collectives though, people emerged who were more invested and more involved.

When Mitra moved to NYC in 2012, our mission was to take the show to a professional level. At that point we decided we were partners, and started calling ourselves the creative directors. From then on we became a unit.

The administrative side is a little easier to separate out. I manage staff and outreach, Mitra manages the relationships with our distributors and does all the social media. Jen does all of our design work. Right now we're working with Connie Ho on grant proposals.

You and your cohorts apparently made a decision to go for an intelligent approach to sex instead of shock value. True?

Mitra Kaboli: I’m continually amazed at the difficulty for people to understand that intelligent dialogue about sex exists. And I’m not really sure why sex tends to be shocking. It is everywhere and almost everybody does it! I don’t think shock value was ever something we considered. We just wanted to be honest and true to life. 

Audio Smut: Going boldly where no podcast has gone before

"You can't do THAT on the radio!" Oh, but they did. A clique of bawdy freethinkers dared talk about things one just didn't talk about on the airwaves. The aptly-named Audio Smut kicked up a fuss in its first life on Montreal's CKUT-FM (find some early audio here; Listener discretion advised) til fading away, only to be reborn as a podcast.

While the topics are still pretty much NSFW -- their mantra: "A show about your body, your heart and your junk" -- the new Audio Smut sheds its college radio spunkiness for a more polished approach. Each episode is as thoughtfully crafted as an artisan item on Etsy. 

Behind it all is a team of producers (or should that be provocateurs?), headed by  Kaitlin Prest and Mitra Kaboli. Here's part one of our interview with two podcasters who take great pleasure in making their listeners blush.

You'll soon be launching your second season, but tell us about the earlier version of Audio Smut broadcast on Montreal radio and how it evolved.

Mitra Kaboli: The show was originally started in 2007 by a group of sex workers in Montreal airing on CKUT 90.3. It was a traditional two-way interview-style show. In 2008, the creators left the show and a new team was amassed, this included Kaitlin. 

Kaitlin Prest: Britt Wray, Jess MG and I were really in to the creative possibilities of radio. Nora Rohman (aka the lesbian queen of Mile End, Montreal's Left Bank) and Linda Tsang were deep in the queer arts scene in Montreal. It was a great mix. The mandate was rewritten and this is when the style that you hear now was created, but in a more adolescent form. One of my favourite stories about that era of Audio Smut was the recording of our first episode. We launched a mini-radio soap opera “Pleasures” (inspired by Nick Danger & the Firesign Theater). Jess wrote the script, I did the sound design, and the Audio Smut collective huddled into CKUT’s studio B to record. Studio B at the time was the size of a bedroom closet and 4 of us crammed in there, faking orgasms and spankings at the top of our lungs. The first Audio Smut-inspired blushes happened at the station that day. 

MK: We definitely used our former years at the station as a sandbox. CKUT gave us all the tools that we needed to get experience and become awesome radio makers. I joined the collective in 2010 and around that time Jess built the website and launched the Audio Smut podcast. In January 2012, Kaitlin and I began managing the show out of Brooklyn and since then, the growth has been exponential! We have a really solid team of collaborators with all different backgrounds and all different skill sets. Jen Ng, Julia Alsop, Rae Dooley were the main brains on Season One. Additionally we've been moving the medium of radio into other spaces by hosting events and doing installations.

Wasn't the earlier version of the show even more graphic  than the current podcast?

KP: The earlier version of the show was definitely more graphic. In the beginning, the approach was to change views on sex by unabashedly showing sex. Real sex. Not hollywood sex and not porno. Sex from the perspective of young women, queer people, people of color, old people, people with disabilities, everybody. And we were doing it on the FM dial at 6pm on a Wednesday. For me, the easiest way to do this was to record my own experiences, as you can see in pieces like Afternoon Delight and Tree Love. But it always involved more than just recording our sexual exploits---it involved telling first person stories about sex and asking others to do the same. We asked for all the gory details. The details most people are afraid to say out loud. 

I ask myself why the show is less smutty, and the answer is that we work in public radio, and are striving to contend with the best public radio shows out there and to be taken seriously by them. Our peers are the producers of great shows like Love+Radio, 99% Invisible, Snap Judgment and Radiolab. But public radio isn’t a space where you can have a free dialogue about sex. I refuse to let that hold us back. First because I am obsessed with quality---commercial and community radio just don’t have the same standards. Second, because it’s where people go for the information they consider to be important and relevant. And I think honest accounts of our feelings, our relationships and our bodies are important and relevant. 

{In case you've never heard Audio Smut, Kaitlin and Mitra whipped up this sensual teaser}

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Sex is such a private thing, how do you get people to open up and talk about stuff they might only tell a close friend?