It usually starts with Colbert over breakfast.
(And what am I to do now that The-Orange-He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has had a hand in cancelling his show??)
Then on to Jon Stewart and the other funny men and women of The Daily Show. A little US satire with my eggs. It’s become something of a ritual. Fork in one hand, existential dread in the other. I like my mornings served with a side of righteous indignation, a well-timed eyebrow raise, and a chuckle in my coffee.
Evenings are worse. By the time dinner rolls around, I’ve usually added South African politics to the mix. Maybe some StephenZA if I’m in the mood for an alternative take on the circus, or a bit of commentary from State of the Nation. And once I’ve caught up on the latest in Parliament’s ongoing tragicomedy, I often fall down the philosophical rabbit hole — a bit of Big Think here, a dose of Lex Fridman there (depending on who he’s quietly nodding at for two and a half hours), maybe something from Philosophy Tube or Sam Harris if I’m feeling especially masochistic.
And then it happens.
The algorithm pounces.
One moment I’m catching the tail end of a debate on democracy, the next I’m knee-deep in a two-camera podcast setup with moody lighting and two bearded men earnestly dissecting the nature of truth. And I don’t stop it. I just keep watching. Or listening. Honestly, I’m not even sure which.
That’s when the uncomfortable question bubbles up between bites:
Wait — was that a podcast? Or a video? What even is this anymore?
Because I didn’t go looking for a podcast. I didn’t open Spotify or pull up Pocket Casts. I was just browsing. Clicking. Letting the autoplay take me. And before I knew it, I was 45 minutes into a “conversation” that looked suspiciously like a YouTube video but sounded undeniably like a podcast.
And yes — I enjoyed it.
And then, without warning, I realise:
Damn it — I’ve just watched a podcast again.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. So what? Who cares what it’s called if the content is good? And fair enough. But here’s my problem: I’ve always been a purist. The kind of person who winces when someone says, “I watch podcasts on YouTube.” That’s not a podcast, I’d mutter, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. That’s a talk show with poor camera angles.
To me, podcasting has always been about the audio. The crackle of a well-told story in your ears. The intimacy of someone’s voice in your head while you’re walking the dog or pretending to answer emails. Audio, in its purest form, doesn’t need hair and makeup. It doesn’t need ring lights or thumbnail faces frozen mid-sentence. It just needs a microphone, a message, and someone listening.
That’s the world I come from. And I’ve been pretty vocal — borderline grumpy, let’s be honest — about my belief that video podcasts are a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster. Not quite video. Not quite podcast. Kind of like trying to eat soup with a fork. Yes, technically doable, but you lose a lot of the good stuff along the way.
I’ve stuck to that belief like a stubborn dog with a bone. I’ve written articles gently mocking the trend. I’ve side-eyed YouTube thumbnails with overexcited hosts in matching hoodies. And I’ve warned clients to stay focused on the power of sound rather than chasing the visual noise.
But then…something shifted.
A New York Times piece landed in my inbox a few days ago. The title was innocent enough — something about podcasting and video. I nearly skipped it. But curiosity got the better of me.
And I’m glad it did.
The article painted a picture of a media landscape in flux. Even the Times, that bastion of text and trusted audio, is leaning into video podcasting with intention. This isn’t a casual experiment or a desperate rebrand. It’s strategic. It’s deliberate. They’re investing in creators who not only sound good but look good. They’re building sets. Training on-camera presence. Creating clips that are as likely to be watched on TikTok as listened to on a smart speaker.
One quote stood out. Sam Dolnick, who oversees much of this shift, said something along the lines of: “If you look at someone else’s phone on the subway, nine times out of ten, they’re looking at another human face.” Not reading. Not listening. Watching.
And I have to admit that he has a point.
Here’s where the self-deprecation kicks in. Because despite all my purist chest-thumping, I use YouTube all the time to consume podcast content.
I tell myself it’s just for “research.” Or “background noise.” But the truth is I watch and listen on YouTube almost daily. Interviews with authors. Long-form philosophical debates. Podcasts by comedians who riff off each other while sipping lukewarm coffee in badly lit studios. I rarely sit and watch a full episode, but I jump around, I skip to the good bits, I read the comments.
I even — and this pains me to admit — sometimes prefer the YouTube version of a podcast to the actual audio feed.
Why? Because it’s easy. Because it’s where I already am. Because the algorithm serves it up before I even know what I’m in the mood for. And because sometimes, seeing the person behind the voice adds context. Not always better. But different. Human. Immediate.
At Baird Media, we’ve always planted our flag in the audio-first camp. We believe in its power. In the craft of editing breath and pause. In the way sound alone can make you cry or laugh or rewind.
That hasn’t changed. And I don’t want it to.
But I’m no longer naïve about the reality. Audiences are changing. Habits are shifting. Platforms like YouTube have become, for many, the primary way to discover new voices. It’s where the scroll meets the story. And ignoring that would be, frankly, unhelpful to our clients.
So here’s what we do: we lead with sound, but we support with video. We help clients shoot simple, effective visuals that don’t distract from the message. We show them how to create short video clips from longer interviews. We advise on how to repurpose without diluting. And yes, we even help with thumbnails. I still struggle with the exaggerated facial expressions, but I’ve been told they work. Apparently, looking surprised increases click-through rate by 17 percent. Don’t ask me why. The internet is weird.
Let me be clear — I no longer think video is killing podcasting. Not at all.
If anything, it’s exposing it to more people. It’s adding entry points for new listeners who might not otherwise open Apple Podcasts or Spotify. It’s expanding the medium. That expansion comes with trade-offs, sure. Some nuance is lost when everything becomes a visual performance. But it also invites new kinds of expression. New audiences. New energy.
There will always be space for beautifully crafted, audio-only gems. Just like there’s still a place for hardcover books in a world of audiobooks and Kindle. But the formats will continue to blend. The lines will blur.
The real risk is not the rise of video. The real risk is clinging so tightly to an old definition that we miss the chance to evolve.
These days, my advice sounds a bit more like this:
Start with audio. Design your episode structure, your questions, your tone — all from the perspective of sound. But if you can, capture video while you’re at it. You don’t need a full production team. A decent webcam, good lighting, and a clean background go a long way. Use the footage wisely. Share snippets. Create trailers. Use video to invite people in, and let the audio keep them there.
And most importantly, stay true to your voice — even if that voice occasionally appears on camera.
If you had told me a year ago that I’d be recommending YouTube strategies to clients, I probably would’ve coughed dramatically and changed the subject. But here we are. And if I’m honest, it feels good to soften my stance. The world doesn’t need more rigid opinions. It needs people willing to test their assumptions.
So yes, I still believe in the magic of audio. I always will. But I also believe in growth. And in meeting people where they are. Right now, that often means somewhere between your ears and your screen.
Just don’t expect me to point at the camera and shout, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe.”
At least not yet.
Your voice is your brand. Your podcast should sound like it.
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Podcast listening has changed dramatically since the commute-driven days of the 2010s. In 2025, it’s a screen-friendly, all-day, at-home habit—shaped by remote work, video, and a broader, more engaged audience.
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