The Moth - 25 Years of Stories: When The Podcast Started

Episode Date: July 22, 2022

This week, we learn about how this podcast got started, and play one of our favorite stories from our early days. This episode is hosted by Dan Kennedy. Host: Dan Kennedy. Storytellers: Dan Kennedy.

Attention Houston! You have listened to our podcast and our radio hour, but did you know the Moth has live storytelling events at Wearhouse Live? The Moth has opened Mike's storytelling competitions called Story Slams that are open to anyone with a five-minute story to share on the night's theme. Upcoming themes include love hurts, stakes, clean, and pride. GoodLamoth.org forward slash Houston to experience a live show near you. That's the moth.org forward slash Houston. Welcome to the moth podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. Every week in 2022, the moth has been celebrating its 25th anniversary by taking a look back at each year along the way. In this episode, we're at 2008.

We had our first international main stage show in Perth, Australia, and our first foreign language mothnite in Dushan Bay, Tajikistan, with stories told in Russian and Tajik. And then we started a podcast. This one, which you're listening to right now. Here's the origin story of the Moth podcast. In the early days of podcasting, I had been a guest on Jesse Thorns podcast, the sound of Young America. Back then, you went to Jesse's apartment in downtown Los Angeles, and that was it. That was the studio. I only had a very basic understanding of what podcasting was back then After the interview Jesse asked if I'd like to stay and be a guest on another podcast of his called Jordan Jesse go

And I had this moment where I thought This is like punk rock or indie music all over again. Everyone's producing their own work There's no gatekeeper to getting on the air anymore. This is going to change everything. And of course, it did. From Los Angeles, I flew to Perth to do our first international Moth mainstage show literally on the other side of the world from our usual downtown New York stomping grounds. And I got an email from Apple. It was about a book I was promoting, a comedic book about my getting hired at Atlantic Records, and about how the music business as we knew it was about to change completely. Apple was starting to invest heavily in audio

content on their still relatively new iTunes music store. and they wanted to record this live event at the Apple store in Soho where I'd be in conversation with someone about my book. In Perth, I was with Leah Tao, the Moth's then executive director, and also Sarah Austin Janess, and I asked Leah if she'd be on stage with me at the Apple event in Soho. I thought the conversation could be bigger than me and the book that way. It could be about podcasts, how everything's changing, and storytelling, and what we were doing at the Moth. But then I said, this could also be the moment where we announced that the Moth is releasing a podcast. Never mind that we didn't have one yet,

or that none of us knew how to make one. Haven't we all just seen Steve Jobs announce the release of the iPhone five months before it was ready to be available? How hard could a podcast be compared to a phone that would change the world? Leah Tao and Sarah were excited, and Leah called the Moth artistic director, Catherine Burns, and Catherine said, yes, let's do it. And the rest of the team, Jennifer Hicks and Meg Bulls, everyone jumped on board, which was a big deal because we were still selling actually a good amount of CDs at our shows on the merch table. So I was basically the person saying, hey, I have a great idea for us.

We'll give the stories away. Free. Every week. Forever. I remember all of us in Paul Rues studio in Chelsea asking each other the question, what is this? What is it sound like? We knew what the math sounded like on stage, but what about in people's headphones? Somewhere along the line, we got it right. Kate Teller's volunteered to edit it in GarageBand. We launched the first episode ever and got 1700 downloads. We were over the moon. We had not anticipated that kind of success.

Almost six times the amount of people who would come to the Nerecan Cafe for one of our slams. And then we realized, oh my God, more and more people are showing up to listen to this thing. The numbers weren't stopping. We'd created a radio show before we had a radio show. Nobody giving us permission, nobody telling us how something like this should sound, and 1,700 people around the world had showed up for it.

Last time I checked, the podcast was downloaded almost 100 million times in an average year. The weirdest thing about all of it is it's nothing anyone could have ever planned. Like 90% of outsized success, we were all part of a perfect storm. A storm that started clear back when founder George Dawes Green first invited his friends over to tell stories on his friend Wanda's porch on a little island in Georgia. Working hard, figured into the success, sure. Hard work from storytellers, staff, hosts, volunteers, the supportive you, the listener, and the audience. But here's the thing, lots of people work hard. Basically, everyone in the world works hard.

Talent and stories figure in, but again, millions and millions of people are talented, and everyone in the world has a story. The fact is, and someone way smarter than me, Malcolm Gladwell, has written beautifully about this. Outside success has a lot to do with all of the things that I mentioned, but also simply being in the right place at the right time. And somehow also, millions of tiny lucky things happening against all odds.

As if you haven't heard enough of me yammering on, here's one of the first stories we ever played on the Moth podcast. It's a story I told in 2007 at Bumper Shoot in Seattle. This is called, I'm paid to write love letters to Phil Collins. Here it is, live at the Moth. Here it is, live at the mall. Thank you. In my 20s, I worshiped at the altar of punk rock. And I listened to bands like X and the Circle Jerks and a handful of bands like this and later on the Pixies and a band I liked called Vomit Launch and

I sort of thought like a lot of 20-somethings worshipping at the music altar that I should possibly just become one of these punk legends. And I didn't let the fact that I didn't have any predisposition to musical talent or songwriting enter into that decision. So I thought it's really time I become one of these punk rock legends. I need to quit my day job. So I quit my day job at the record store in very northern California where I was working. And this is just two weeks before the music scene in Seattle exploded.

And I took what meager savings I had. And I filled up the gas tank in my second hand car. I bought a second hand acoustic guitar, and I drove for 12 hours in the opposite direction of Seattle. On a tip that the music scene was going to explode in Austin, Texas, not Seattle. Right, so I get down to Austin and I'm lucky. I book a gig right away and it doesn't really occur to me that this should be terrifying news because I don't have any songs and I'm not much of a guitar player. And I go and I sort of figure like,

well, I've got like a journal with stuff in it that has pissed me off over the last year or so. And I'll sort of weave that into whatever I'm doing up there. And the songs will kind of happen and they'll sort of explode out on my soul like angst and the revolution will begin and I'll be on the front lines of it and Yeah, it'll be fun. So I went and played the gig it did not go well to put it mildly They they I'd like to think it was a matter of being ahead of my time, but I Didn't I just remember like sort of playing an open E and kind of just being like, I'm a girlfriend, talks to her, ex-boyfriends who match on the phone. And I'm like looking out to see if the revolution is starting and it's like,

so not starting. Although there's an older man at the bar who's extremely drunk, who yells out that I'm a genius. This was not enough to stoke the flier of the dream, however. On the way back to where I was staying that night, I see a cover of Spin Magazine and it says, in big letters, Seattle Music Scene explodes. So I'm out of money and I'm on the wrong side of the coast, basically. I really couldn't be further away from where I need to be.

I turn around, I pack up, I start heading back up, and I get to Northern California, and I need to get my job back at the record store to save up some money to get up to Seattle. And it's a little bit humiliating because it's only been like four days. Yeah. So I'm like, hey, you know, guys, how's it going? Like, I totally remember what I said, you know, and I feel bad about that. Going to be a legend or whatever, you guys can stay here if that's what you want to do. But I need some shifts.

And if Gary is not working the closing shift, I'd cover it, you know. And by the time I get to Seattle, it's like a year and a half later. And everything has already happened. And as everybody in this room certainly knows, by the time something's on the cover, it's been magazine, it's over anyway. So there's really nothing going on for me because I don't have any real songs or talent. And the scenes kind of already exploded. Everyone's out on tour getting famous. So I instantly decided I'm going to become the guy who's not going to sell out. Not, you know.

Yeah. Never mind that nobody is asking about a vine. And never mind that I have nothing to sell anyway. I'm not going to sell out. And I get a couple day jobs, sort of prerequisite. And I talk to anyone who will listen about how I'm never going to sell out and One of my day jobs was counting I

Forget that I made a note not to mention this in front of a lot of people But one of my day jobs was counting forks Educatoring company for large large parties And I count them into batches of a hundred for like the Microsoft party and stuff like that. And I did this with a Middle Eastern man God bless him name Autef.

And he didn't speak a lot of English, but he did have to sort of listen to my diet tribes about how I was never gonna sell out. So it would be like counting our forks. And I'd be like, this is sad, you know what I mean? Autef, like what all these bands are doing, man? It's like, I would never do that. I'd never take the corporate money, man.

And he's just sort of like, oh, you know, he can understand. And I'm like, you know, like Pearl Jam. And Nirvana, it's just sad. And when I say like those band names, he gets visibly excited because he recognizes and he's like, oh yeah, yes, no, no, no, no, dude, bad. What they did, not good. God. Yeah, so I come out of that sort of blackout, a 35 year old man living in downtown New York City. And I have a very tiny apartment,

and it's furnished with a chair and a wooden table and a futon on the floor. And I think this proves I'm pretty intense, right? I think this is, I am keeping it real. I'm sort of a badass. Like, look at my house. It doesn't have anything in it, and it's tiny. Yeah, and I'm 35. And so I'm like, I'm clearly, you know, I'm suffering that

disease that some men suffer when they turn 35. The one where you think you're still as cool as you were when you were 20 and it's tragic. And so I'm like, you know, I'm really thinking like that I'm pretty cool. I literally have this thought process that when people who were like 25 look at me, they're like, here's their thought process, I actually think, oh there's a guy, he's kind of a little bit older, he's like 35, but you can tell he's cool still. Yeah, he's like cool 35, yeah. So right, I'm on the phone with a friend of a friend who's

offered me a job as something called a director, creative director at Atlantic Records. And I'm like, you know, I am trying to, you know, that sounds like corporate bullshit or whatever, but at the same time I'm like, fuck, seriously? Like, how much is it? Like, wow. And so I'm like, no, I could try it, dude, but I'm going to have to like, do kind of my shit my way a little bit. Like, you know, and he's like, my friend's like, whatever, that meant. Do you want to come in and talk to these people?

I'm like, yeah, no, yeah, definitely, yeah, definitely. So I'm thinking, I literally am convincing myself, like, oh, the way this adds up is they can tell I'm still really cool. So they're hiring me to kind of be this like 35-year-old guy who is going to work there but keep it really intense because I'm still like got my feet on a street type of thing. And I'm thinking, I'm going to go there and I'm going to take these really sonically challenging bands that no one's ever heard of. And I'm going to make these advertising and marketing campaigns and videos. And I'm going to introduce, like my role is, I'm going to introduce these intense bands to the other 35-year-olds who don't get

it. Right, so day one on the job, my first big assignment comes down and I find out I'm going to be writing a national ad campaign that will celebrate 25 years of heartwarming love songs by Phil Collins. So I'm like, all right, all right, okay, whatever I can do this, like I can do my kind of take on this, you know, like find like a hardcore angle here, you know. And, um, right, so just then the phone in my office rings and I have an office which is sadly huge news in my family at age 35. And, uh an assistant, which was startling to me,

and she brings me little bottles of chilled water when I need to do stuff. And this is apparently really important when you need to think that an assistant brings you a little thing of water, like thanks, man. And then I kind of thought, like, no, I'm selling out, so I started telling her, like, I'll get my own water, you know, like, that was my version of keeping it sort of real,

so I was like, Sarah, don't worry about it, I'll get my own water, you know, like, that was my version of keeping it sort of real. So, it was like, Sarah, don't worry about it. I'll get it. Yeah, thanks. I could use a water though. Thank you. Thanks for the hangout. And so, just then the telephone in my office rings and it's the president of the label and he says, listen, Dan, I just want to remind you, whatever you're working on, fulfill Collins,

you know, his audience is 40 to 50-year-old women. So you need to be writing in that voice. I'm like, oh, okay, sir. Like, awesome. So now I'm a man in an office writing like a 50-year-old woman, which I'm finding harder and harder to make seem like I'm keeping it real to myself. But I want it, you know, I'm like, all right, let's see what you got here. So I restless thing to ground, and I'm in the office for like nine hours on day one, and at the end of the nine hours of pacing around wondering what the hell I've done with my life, I'm going, okay, I got a headline. And the headline was, who was really your first love?

Yeah. And I'm like, sort of panicking. Day two, lock myself in there for like nine hours. And the headline I come up with was something, oh, here's to the voice of love. And it's all like hallmark cards that aren't filed under a holiday, they're just filed under like, because, you know, we're friends. You know, like, ah, vague stuff that generally feels good once that. And so, so I sort of like, I'm freaking out.

I need a break. So I walk down to the corporate sort of kitchen there in the hallway, and I'm, make myself a cup of coffee, I'm thinking, and I walk in, and there's this dude, and he works there. I've seen him around. He's got tattoos from like his fingertips all the way up to his neck. I'm like, oh my god, and I look at this guy.

And he's got piercings that are not, I feel old-fashioned calling them piercings. They're just violently doing things to his skin. That's like, he's got plumbing parts or jammed through his ear like a rotten iron, Chase lounge is hanging from his head. And his fashioned is hair into this situation where you shave just a little spot

about the size of a half dollar and you dye it green and you spike it, make it a spike. So he's got a green spike right here. And I'm like, I look at this guy and I'm like, here's somebody I can relate to, you. And I'm like, I look at this guy and I'm like, here's somebody I can relate to. You know? I'm like, all right, finally. Somebody like me sort of intense, a little bit older,

who cares though. And so I really wanted to impress this guy. And I'm like, you know, I'm like, hey man, how's it going? And he's like, pretty good, how are you? I'm like, all right. And so I go, yeah, I just need a cup of coffee and I didn't want to go downstairs.

So like the corporate bullshit sellout coffee place, six bucks, like, you know, whatever. I'm just going to make my own. And he's like, yeah, we actually just got a machine at home that makes him, like, 600 bucks. But it's so sweet. You can just make your own lattes and stuff. And I was like, oh my god. And he's like, I was like, oh it's so sweet. You can just make your own lattes and stuff. And I was like, oh my God.

And he's like, I was like, oh, that's cool. And then he's like, yeah, we're just remodeling our whole kitchen. So we're getting all this stuff. Like we have like granite countertops. I bought this big place and my wife is like, oh, I want to do a good kitchen. So I'm like, okay, honey. I'm like, Jesus Christ, what's happening right now? Like, I'm like, I have this like shift inside of me.

Like I came in for a cup of coffee and I got an identity crisis. I'm like, and I'm thinking like, I want that stuff. Like I want, I want stuff. I want furniture. I want like a nice kitchen. I didn't know we were allowed to want that and still be intense. Like, you know, that moment, like that moment when you found out we can like prints. You know, it was like, oh, seriously?

Like, oh, fuck off like them since Purple Rain. I'm going to tell you guys, tell me I was hiding that shit forever. And so I'm like, okay, this is a major shift. Like I want to make this work. Let's nail this fill thing because, you know, I came in there sort of going like I'm like, okay, this is a major shift. Like I wanna make this work. Let's nail this fill thing because, you know, I came in there sort of going like I'm just ducking in. This is a port in the storm and the high journey on the high seas, you know, my intense one man solo finds his way across the world is gonna continue.

But I'm just ducking in here for a minute. Right, so I talk to that dude and I'm like, oh my God, I don't wanna go back out there. You know, like I don't want to fuck the high, I don't want to go on the high sea. I don't want to do the journey alone or whatever. Like, I want to be here with these guys. Like, this is good. Nice stuff.

Lots of money. So it was really sad when that guy met the like, I'm going to keep it real guys. I was just kind of spasm walking like, I want to catch it. I was fucking keep it real. Yeah. Oh, no, no, no. I just kind of spasm walking like, I want to catch a nose, fuck the keeper really. I want to, no, no, no. So I get back in my office and my boss is sitting in the office and I'm like, hey, how's it going? Really good, have you had any time to work

on the Phil Collins thing? And I'm like, and it's pretty much what I've been doing for three days, I've been locked in here like, Martin Sheen and fucking apocalypse now. I'm thinking, yeah, I think I've been doing for three days. I've been locked in here like, you know, Martin Sheen and fucking apocalypse now. I'm thinking, yeah, I think I've had a little time. But then I also had this quiet panic where I'm like, oh my god, am I supposed to be like doing other stuff at this job, too?

And I was like, yeah, I have. She goes, you can stop wherever you are with it. And I was like, OK, yeah, what's up? And she goes, well, I just talked to Phil on the phone. And he and his manager, Tony, don't want to make a big deal out of this. They're like, you know, they know it's the 25th year, you know, they know it's a big thing.

But their words were, we're not carrying cancer. This is just pop music. Let's keep it kind of low key. And then the weirdest thing happened, I was like, oh my God, Phil Collins seems cool. I was like, I was like, really? He said that and that seems pretty cool. He seems cool, huh?

I like him or whatever. I'm like, what the fuck is happening to me? And, you know, I'm just like, you know, what, here's the thing. I've been in here for three days already straight. I have like somebody who wants to bring me bottles of water. You guys are paying me this money. I got, you know, all of a sudden, what am I doing?

You know, nothing. I have an assistant to help me do nothing. Like, you know, and she's like, well, here's what we're going to do with the ad. We're just going to make it a picture of Phil in the number 25. And I'm like, oh my God, I'm thinking like, seriously? And she's like, it's just number 25. And I was like, where's the craft? And then where's the writing?

There's no line. There's no, you don't even need me here. This is a sham. It's bullshit. This is everything adulthood is built on. And I like completely refused to participate basically. And this is what I was thinking. And what I heard myself say at that moment was, oh, okay, yeah, just kind of a simple,

yeah, elegant sort of. I like it. It could be a nice way to go, sure. And I'm like, right, that moment, that's the second I drank the corporate cool aid. And I basically realized at that moment, if you're forced to be someone else and do someone else and act like someone else and look like someone else and dress like someone else, just to succeed,

you got to walk away. I mean, that's what you have to do. And that's what I did. I didn't walk away per se. But however, 18 months later I was laid off in a series of job cuts, but the point is I'm back out here and I'm keeping it real, so you know, walk off. Thanks. A couple decades in change go by and you learn a lot about stories and story structure, what makes something work or not.

I completely wouldn't tell this story the same way today. I could feel where the punchlines worked in telling this story and where they didn't. I held back certain things I knew or left out certain things altogether. That's what we do as people. It's your life. it's your movie, basically. I knew I was actually super excited to get this assignment the first week on the job. I knew I loved the music of Phil Collins. That love affair started with the 1978 Genesis album and then there were three, an album that my sister and I would play endlessly growing up.

Practically 30 years later, I read Phil Collins' autobiography Cover to Cover in a Trance The Week It Came Out. Then I read my favorite chapters over again. I've since obsessed over the type of vintage Ludwig concert-toms he played on that iconic part on In the Air tonight, and the gear he used to record the very first solo demos in that house he bought in the country. I write in film and television now, and obviously never feel guilty about writing what I know will make a scene funny, leaving out what will wait down a punchline. But over the last 15 years, I've felt bad about having done that same thing on stage,

and in my book, when telling the best Phil Collins story I'll probably ever have in my pocket, my boss at Atlantic Records, she, in fact, hired the perfect writer for the job. I still, to this day, play and then there were three, or ABBACAP, or Duke, all at full volume in the middle of the night in my studio when I need to feel happy and inspired. And also, so many of the hits off the solo albums, Easy Lover, his collaboration with Philip Bailey from Earth Wind and Fire, take me home, I missed again one more night and on and on. I love Phil Collins since 1978.

That's all for this episode. We hope you enjoyed our look back at the Moth Podcast. From everyone here at the Moth, have a story worthy week. Dan Kennedy is one of the original developers of the Moth Podcast and a long time host and performer at the Moth. and a long time host and performer at the Moth. He's the author of three books, Loser Goes First, Rock On, and American Spirit,

and the co-creator of the new comedy fiction podcast KPODD 101.3 with Maximum Fun Network Spenderman R. Harrison. KPODD is available wherever you get your podcasts. This episode of the Month Podcast was produced by Sarah Austin-Gines, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of the Month's leadership team includes Captain Burns, Sarah Haberman, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Klucci, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Lee Ann Gully, Ingeglidowski, and Aldi Kaza. All mall stories are true as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story and everything else,

go to our website, themoth.org. The Moth Podcast is presented by PIRX, the public radio exchange, helping make public radio more public at pirex.org. The public radio exchange, helping make public radio more public at perex.org.