Podcast produced by U of G students explores themes of race, culture, death, and creativity
Cam Litchmore sifts through his open tabs while Migos’s “Bad and Bougie” plays.
“I hate this part of the song,” he says while closing tabs. He leaves news articles on a woman haunted by a black monk, a Palestinian barber who uses fire to style haircuts, and a woman breastfeeding a pig open on his computer screen.
The three articles will serve as talking points in his podcast’s first segment, “Weird Ass News.”
The segment begins with Litchmore’s counterpart, Gabriel Broderick, impersonating a retro breaking news announcement. Broderick voices “doo-ra-doo, do-ra-doo, do-ra-doo” quickly into the microphone.
Litchmore expresses his displeasure with the bit: “I don’t hate it enough to call him out to stop doing it,” he says.
“That’s my favourite part, here we are with three prepared stories. Stop lying,” Broderick responds.
“Because I have nothing to replace it. It’s our health care plan, you want to gut this out? Well you have nothing to replace it with.”
Although not biological brothers, the two share an enigmatic bond. To create balance, you need equal opposition, and the hosts of the popular podcast The Brutha Dialogues are an asymmetrical twosome that have found that equilibrium: the meditative Litchmore harmonizes with the charismatic Broderick. The former is introverted, cool, and collected; the latter: extroverted, dynamic, and magnetic.
The fluidity of the show stems from the organic relationship between the two seemingly lifelong friends. But the duo only met each other two years ago in class.
“It’s a very short amount of time compared to how long people have thought we’ve been friends,” Litchmore notes, laughing with Broderick.
Since then, they’ve built a podcast founded on silver-tongued conversation that improvises and streamlines like jazz. An oscillation between listener and the artists demarcates what works and what sticks.
“People interacting with [the podcast] gives [them] ownership over it, which is cool because we may see something one way and the listeners may see something another way. Either we are in line [with the listeners], or we go ‘maybe we should flow something this way,’” Broderick tells The Ontarion.
The podcast’s first show aired last February during CFRU’s 24-hour black programming showcase as part of Black History Month. Since then, the free-formed development has allowed Litchmore and Broderick to take their time finding the distinct style that marks much of their work today.
“[We are] kind of figuring it out. [It’s about] finding your voice, and finding your pace, and finding what you want your show to sound like,” says Broderick. “I feel like a lot of podcasts try to sound like every other podcast they’ve ever heard or all the ones they like. I think we fall into that trap sometimes too.”
For Broderick, that emulated podcast of choice is entitled Race Wars, a current events podcast based out of New York and run by the comedic collective at New York Comedy Labs. Broderick emphasizes the importance of “good conversation” to what he thinks is the fabric of the podcast. At the very least, he wants that same quality of conversation to be the foundation of their work.
Litchmore’s influence is Double Toasted, a pop culture podcast from Austin, Texas. The group started with six members but has since been reduced to two who review movies, music, and other pop culture media.
Conversations jump from the cultural to the aesthetic, but always return to the wholly personal.
“When we get bigger topics and we can still get to personal anecdotes, those are really kind of the highlight for me,” Litchmore says, recalling an episode surrounding how both of their parents cope with rapidly changing technology.
Since the show’s inception, the podcast has developed into a four-segment show running around an hour long. “Weird ass News” serves as the first segment; the dialogue follows that, which focuses in on more serious themes that relate to culture or art—or most recently, death. Following that, is “Ask a Brother,” which is a community question emailed in by the Brutha’s network of listeners.
In every segment, the duo has the ability to pull in and out of serious topics; to focus in on the burden of critique while pulling back to laugh at its absurdity.
“Over the summer, some serious shit has happened, especially in the black community, and I think, even with the [American] election, if we didn’t unpack it and laugh at it sometimes, it would be a little heavy,” Broderick explains.
Both he and Litchmore are currently in their fourth and last year of their undergraduate degrees. However, both sound determined to keep releasing material on a consistent basis to grow their listener base.
“I think community building is really a big thing, especially in the next couple months, that’s going to be the focus, and build that community and build that interaction. Once you have that community, that’s where your staying power is going to be,” Litchmore says.
Litchmore and Broderick emphasize the community-interaction and networking that is in the backdrop of all their work. You cannot separate the Bruthas from the community and culture from where their discourse is grounded. And for the duo, building and strengthening that community is as important as personal exploration. The discourse is as inclusive as it is personal.
Photo by Ryan Antooa.