Everyone has a podcast—or is about to launch one. From living rooms to YouTube studios, microphones are plugged in, ring lights are on, and conversations are being recorded at a dizzying pace. Podcasts flit from hot topic to hot topic, with a steady stream of camera ready guests lending instantly viral ‘insight’ to the increasingly clout-centered discussions. With this explosion of voices, however, comes a worrying decline in quality. Many of these platforms are heralded by individuals with no formal training or background in the art of conversation. The interviews lack structure, the questions are shallow or misinformed, and what should be thoughtful dialogue often devolves into self-indulgent monologues or soundbites designed more to shock than to inform.
As Nigeria’s talk media continues to grow, we must ask: is anyone actually listening, or everybody is just talking? Are people only getting more enamored with the sound of their own voices?
Nigeria’s post-COVID landscape ushered in a renaissance of digital expression. Podcasts and talk shows, once a niche interest confined to tech-savvy corners of the internet, have gone mainstream. Where once FM radio reigned supreme, now microphones light up living rooms, and smartphone cameras double as broadcast studios. Between 2021 and 2022 alone, podcast listenership in Nigeria grew by a staggering 222%, according to a Technext report. The allure? Intimacy, accessibility, and the promise of being heard.
The primary aim of media is to reach an audience, and with podcasts and talk shows, the traditional FM radio model which required a lot more red-taping has given way for an era where media voices can reach their audience directly. A Nigerian podcast these days is the equivalent of opening up X and making a post directly to followers – there is direct access to your audience and ultimately, you call the shots.
The landscape shifted further when videocasts took over, with the promise of virality and the glamour of “fame”. Platforms like YouTube became the new frontier, where podcasts were no longer just heard but also seen. With the rise of short-form content on social media, viral moments from podcasts transformed the medium, attracting wider audiences. This evolution changed how podcasting was consumed in Nigeria, fueling a rise in “chatcasts” where aesthetics and personalities often matter more than depth or expertise.
The podcast boom has undeniably democratized media: gone are the days when radio stations and TV networks were the only gatekeepers of public dialogue. Now, with a little more than a smartphone and a strong opinion, anyone can build an audience. Platforms like Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube have opened the floodgates and today, Nigerian listeners can access over 2.9 million podcast titles across these apps. Free hosting platforms like Anchor (now Spotify for Podcasters), user-friendly editing tools, and affordable recording kits (as low as ₦48,000) have made media creation more democratic than ever. But while the barrier to entry has been lowered, so too have the standards.
The appeal is obvious: no traditional gatekeepers, no National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) regulations, no editorial interference. Podcasts have become a direct pipeline to the audience. Social media — especially X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, and Instagram have amplified this reach, with bite-sized clips fueling virality and drawing in viewers hungry for hot takes, gossip, and occasionally, chaos.
As the line between podcast and talk show blurred, a new class of “podcastars” emerged: Adesope Olajide (The Afrobeats Podcast), Joey Akan (Afrobeats Intelligence), and the duo of Feyikemi Abudu and Jola Ayeye (I Said What I Said) are now household names, with cultural capital rivaling that of mainstream celebrities. Their success has triggered a bandwagon effect: everyone now wants to talk, record, and go viral. The media ecosystem has also evolved to reflect the podcast “gold rush”. With agencies like Glitch Africa Studios and Eggcorn Digital offering monetization avenues, a “talk economy” has taken root. Podcasts are now content pipelines for sponsorships, brand deals, and audience engagement, not necessarily platforms offering clarity, depth, or truth. In many cases, the goal is not to inform or explore ideas, but to provoke, to trend, to be clipped and shared.
The strength of this podcasting boom (its frank openness) is also its Achilles’ heel. The absence of gatekeeping has led to a lack of quality control. With no baseline expectations for structure, research, or content ethics, many shows operate as digital free-for-alls. Podcast hosts frequently come unprepared, confusing charisma for competence. There is little thematic consistency or informed inquiry, research is often minimal, and when research is done at all, it is usually unsourced. Hosts speak over one another or over their guests, chase soundbites, and lean into clickbait titles to maximize engagement.
What results is content driven more by spectacle than substance. The rise of “shock podcasts” — where controversy is currency — has begun to dominate. And while this kind of content generates attention, it also erodes the integrity of the medium.
At the heart of this decline is the loss of true, meaningful conversation. Today, many podcast “interviews” are little more than performances crafted not to understand the guest, but to showcase the host. Poor etiquette is common: guests are interrupted mid-thought, shallow or inappropriate questions are posed, and discussions are frequently hijacked by the host’s own anecdotes, biases or attempts at showcasing quick wit which would otherwise be evident from the ability to simply curate gratifying conversation.
Even legacy media outfits have fallen prey to the decline in quality conversation. A recent HipTV interview with producer Magixx as the guest showcased in just a few seconds, the glaring issue with interviews on Nigerian media platforms today: there is little listening involved and in its place is an aggressive pursuit of pre-determined soundbites. In the short clip, Magixx had just shared some insight on the commercial aspect of Afrobeats, noting that revenue from one hit song can have an artist set for life. The interviewer takes in this information, sits back and then follows up with the question; “If Ayra Starr kissed you, would you kiss her back?”
This decline in the quality of conversation isn’t just detrimental to the calibre of entertainment provided by Nigerian media, it’s dangerous. The obsession with virality has led to the trivialization of serious topics and the casual spread of misinformation. Podcasts which should be platforms for informed dialogue too often devolve into echo chambers or battlegrounds for social capital.
Take The Honest Bunch Season 3, Episode 1. One of the hosts is introduced as a “trouble maker, table shaker”, and the episode truly lived up (or down) to the label. With Don Jazzy as guest, the topic — whether marriage is a poverty alleviation scheme — is chosen purely for shock value. The discussion is chaotic: hosts yell over each other, cite dubious statistics, and ignore the guest’s actual area of expertise. By the end of the episode, Don Jazzy is “given his flowers” for his role as an entertainment industry giant, yet, the episode never once explored that field meaningfully. What then, was the essence of having him as a guest on the episode, if not as a means to capitalize off his social currency? Why not invite a guest with expertise in marriage related matters instead?
Equally chaotic is the Rants, Bants and Confessions show, where an episode on bullying opened with a reference to a Wizkid tweet about Nigeria lacking real rappers. The episode starts with guest Dan Dizzy (a rapper) being questioned on whether he felt “bullied” by the tweet—an odd framing. Tensions between hosts quickly spill into the episode, with one host (Lydia) storming off the set mid-recording and never returning. The episode ultimately reveals more about the hosts’ interpersonal drama than the topic at hand, and does so in the most unprofessional way possible.
These examples aren’t isolated—they are symptoms of a media culture increasingly divorced from the ethics of storytelling, the responsibility of platforming, and the purpose of public dialogue.
It may be tempting to write all this off as harmless entertainment. But media is more than talk; it shapes perceptions, informs discourse, and creates cultural memory. The absence of standards, fact-checking, and accountability is not just lazy, it is corrosive. There is a vital role for trained journalists, thoughtful hosts, and well-prepared interviewers. They bring structure, empathy, and context. They listen, ask good questions, and know when not to speak. These are the cornerstones of quality media, and their absence is now being felt.
Luckily, it appears all hope is not lost. In 2022, Spotify’s Africa Podcast Fund selected I Said What I Said, Tea With Tay, and F&S Uncensored among thirteen recipients across the continent. These Nigerian podcasts exemplify quality: clear format, researched topics, engaging delivery. They prove that excellence and accessibility are not mutually exclusive.
What Nigeria needs is more podcast diversity—less gossip, more depth. Podcasters and podcast networks should shy away from adding more pop culture themed podcasts to the media scene which is already full to bursting with such content. Media personalities should instead explore creating other kinds of podcasts like investigative, documentary, narrative, and storytelling podcasts. We need stories that investigate, illuminate, or challenge and podcasts that blend storytelling with insight, entertainment with inquiry. Nigerian adaptations of popular true crime podcasts like Serial, music podcasts like Switched On Pop, relationships podcasts like Modern Love, documentary podcasts like The Opportunist, and even tech podcasts like Waveform, will give much needed variety to the existing selection.
Nigeria’s podcast boom is a gift. It has amplified voices, democratized discourse, and expanded what’s possible. But this freedom must come with a sense of responsibility. When the mic becomes a toy for ego trips and hot takes, it loses its value as a tool for change, reflection, and community.
If the country’s media culture is to mature, it must reinvest in the art of meaningful conversation. Not every podcast needs to be serious, but every host needs to take their platform seriously. In a world where everyone is talking, the real power lies in knowing how and when to truly listen.
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