When I discovered Marc Maron’s influential podcast WTF, I was working in a pub. It was a weird time for me. I had just left university and had absolutely no idea what I was doing with my life, so I moved back home and took on shifts as a waitress and chamber maid.
Podcasts became an escape from my reality of changing sheets on king-sized beds, folding hospital corners and rearranging tiny bottles of shampoo – and none more so than Marc Maron’s WTF.
I don’t know how I found it, or why. I don’t think I’d ever even heard of Marc Maron – a grumpy middle-aged standup comedian – before I found the podcast, let alone half the people he interviewed; comedians, musicians, actors in indie films. But its long-form interview format taught me things and made me laugh. And the podcast became – on my long walks to and from shifts, stinking of bleach and the pub’s deep fat fryer, wondering what on earth I was going to do next – a friend to me.
That was more than eight years ago, and what I ended up doing next was, funnily enough, becoming a podcast producer. I now work on the Guardian’s daily news and current affairs podcast Today in Focus.
Undoubtedly, one of the things that inspired me to pursue this career was WTF, the rambling interview show which had already been going for nine years by the time I found it.
Over time, the show has become a comfort blanket for me. No matter who Maron is speaking to, there is a rhythm to the interview. For example – he always, always shares the story of his early life with guests, telling it like the listener (and the guest) is hearing it for the first time and not the 1,600th (quickfire: Jewish, born in New Jersey, grew up in New Mexico, younger brother …). There are often tales about his love-hate relationship with his former boss, Mitzi, at the Comedy Store, and whenever he speaks to an actor he’ll tell them how he loves acting but can’t stand waiting in his trailer.
Maron is a standup – these are his bits. But, more often than not over the course of an episode, a different kind of storyteller and interviewer emerges – vulnerable and compelling, with a tone that’s kept me coming back all these years.
In recent times he has mused on the climate crisis, the rise of fascism and his plans to move to Canada in the wake of Trump’s re-election; he has meditated on grief (after the sudden death of his partner, Lynn Shelton, in 2020), ageing, creativity, friendship and love. Oh, and cats. Maron loves cats.
After years of putting out two episodes a week to a loyal listenership, in June, Maron announced that he and his producer were ending the podcast.
“We’ve decided that we had a great run,” he told us. “Basically, it’s time, folks. It’s time. WTF is coming to an end.”
When I heard Maron say these words I gasped. I couldn’t believe it. No matter what was going on in my life, there had always been a new episode to escape into, Maron’s craggy face staring at me from the podcast tile. But now, there wouldn’t be.
As I write, there is just one episode of WTF left. Too scared at the tears listening to the final episode might unleash, I’ve been reading the Spotify comments instead. I’m not the only listener who’s feeling emotional.
“Sixty-year-old carpenter in south London, sat in his van in tears … thanks for the years, Marc …”
“1685 episodes. You could listen to one a day and it would take 4.5 years to listen to them all …”
Lots of the comments focus on the role that Maron, or his voice at least, has played in listeners’ lives over the past 16 years. Commenters write about how they became fans while changing their newborns’ nappies, with those same kids now starting secondary school. Others say the podcast has been a constant in their lives, helping them survive heartbreak and change.
One listener writes that losing WTF is like losing the voice of a goofy uncle or older brother. Another, that it’s like losing a friend.
I feel the same. This show taught me the kind of honesty and intimacy that’s possible in podcasting, and gave me comfort when little else did. WTF may be ending, but it totally changed the podcast landscape – and will leave a lasting impression on thousands of listeners’ lives.
