Get That Microphone Out of My Face

Hear that? Those are the encroaching steps of a stranger who’d like to ask you, distracted pedestrian wiping the condensation off your iced coffee, for a few seconds of your time. No, they’re not a college acquaintance with a new haircut, Shen Yun marketer, or nonprofit canvasser urging you to support a new ballot initiative. They’re a young person with a microphone and some questions, and they’re flagging you down. No worries if you need a moment to extract the AirPods out of your ears; they’ve already expected the need to repeat themselves. To accommodate your busy schedule, they’ve made their inquiry so straightforward you won’t even have to slow down — just shout your answer across the intersection you’re passing.

What music are you listening to? How much rent do you pay? What’s your least favorite fashion trend? What’s your biggest hot take? Fuck, Marry, Kill. How would you rate this person on a scale of one to ten? Who is the last person you’ve fallen in love with? 

And if you have just a few more seconds — Can I get a tour of your apartment? What about lounging in your bed? 

New York is swarming with amateur pollsters who’ve tasked themselves with taking the pulse of the city. All it takes is a camera, a busy corner, and generic icebreaker. Personality isn’t always a requirement — that can be outsourced to the host’s diverse respondents, selected and uploaded based on who’s the most engaging. Conversation was a dud? Just edit it out in post, and on to the next one.

They’re are camped out at Washington Square Park with feathered hats and checkered tables; they’re loafing on the train with a MetroCard held up to their mouth. Some are rapid-fire game shows (monetary prizes included) that take cues from high-energy series like Billy on the Street. Others share the humanizing mission of Brandon Stanton’s 2010s photojournalism project Humans of New York, which dominated Facebook feeds with high-res photos of New Yorkers accompanied by long, profound accounts of their life stories. Together, they provide a composite of their surroundings, however skewed — a wider understanding of people’s personal quirks and dating histories, and even the state of their disgusting bedrooms.

There are so many of these “man on the street” interviewers they often crowd in on each other, overlapping in the same conversational and geographic territory. As their follower counts have ballooned, their subjects have expanded to include celebrities. (Is Drew Barrymore coincidentally passing by?) Like Blank Street Coffee storefronts, these microphoned content creators are everywhere. Here, let’s break down the types.

The Real-Estate Scoper

Typically, the details of your living situation are between you, your landlord, and the occasional one-night stand, yet a brigade of curious scouts have convinced tenants to not only disclose their rent, but in some cases also open their doors. The featured residents skew toward rich young gentrifiers in ridiculously priced apartments, unless they are natives with the infuriating luck of inheriting rent-stabilized housing. The face of this format is Caleb Simpson, generic 32-year-old content creator who has cycled through every viral engagement strategy in the book — hydraulic press-reaction vids, Coke-and-Mentos stunt explosions, cringey physical-comedy sketches — before landing on Architectural Digest–style home tours for micro (and macro) celebrities. You won’t see a water-stained ceiling, but fuck it, why not a trampoline gym?

Nosiness knows no bounds, though, and there’s something especially satisfying about judging the home-décor choices of privileged people. That’s baked into the conceit of Boy Room, one of the most amusing of these series. (Though the subjects are nominated by email, not randomly selected.) It’s half home-improvement show, half gender exposé by Rachel Coster, a kind of zillennial straight woman’s Jacob Riis — and a genuinely charming host. Striding into the bedrooms of stunted adult men, the 28-year-old comedian documents the grotesque conditions of how the other half lives; by that, I mean the other half of some poor girl’s Hinge exchange. The off-putting interior design is just a means into the deranged psyches of the city’s bachelors.

The Dating Diagnostician

Word around town is that dating is impossible these days, because everyone is still so traumatized from former situationships that even preliminary drinks come with a serial risk of flaking. Enter TikTok’s many short-form romance shows, which offer a frank survey of who’s out there for bored and lonely young scrollers.

In speed rounds, hosts invite prospective dates to expose their hearts, icks, and emotional unavailability, acting as a flirty stand-in for the viewer (Hot & Single) or going the extra mile and facilitating a streetside meetup between two strangers (Street Hearts or Schmooze or Snooze). The candidates are often less than stellar, though still endearing in their own ways, as the hosts are quick to acknowledge. (Hot & Single’s tagline is “Are you the problem?”) The realist takeaway from these shows is that everyone is damaged goods. But these videos feed into the fantasy of serendipitously meeting someone IRL and, similar to Amelia Dimoldenberg’s Chicken Shop Date series, channel the nosy thrill of watching others get their flirt on.

The Human Spotify Algorithm

We all know this guy — and his imitators. They’re nondescript, popping up on random streets and college campuses to ask earbud-wearing strangers: “What song are you listening to?” Their respondents always seem slightly unhappy to be disturbed, and once they’ve answered the question, they don’t know how to gracefully exit the conversation. But Shan Rizwan’s series taps into the part of your brain that compels you to click through every Spotify Wrapped Instagram Story, even if it’s from someone you barely even know. The part that can’t resist psychoanalyzing people based on their music taste (Why is that grandma listening to 21 Savage?) and feeling smug when they validate yours. To aid with the judging, he includes snippets of tracks after each answer. I guess it’s cool to see how music flows through the real world, instead of relying on Billboard or Spotify to assess what resonates with the general populace. That being said, if he approaches me, I’m running.

The Faith-in-Humanity Restorer

Feeling cynical these days? Just watch the soul-searching interviews on TikTok’s human-interest accounts (Meet Cutes NYC, Dose of Society) to be reminded of everyone’s fundamental virtue. They spotlight relationships that have stood the test of time, proof to the romantically downtrodden to hang in there, you’ll find the one. They showcase that even the grouchiest men can be changed by the right person. They convey that everyone, regardless of age and class, has a reality as vibrant as your own — so why don’t you glance up from your phone, you antisocial freak, and chat with the person behind you in the bodega line?

Even the less explicitly sentimental series share the kumbaya aim of inspiring New Yorkers to venture beyond their demographic bubbles. In his taxi-driver interview series Keep the Meter Running, everyman comedian Kareem Rahma requests cabbies, mostly older immigrant men, to take him to their favorite places, a journey that opens up a dialogue about their habits, upbringing, and economic circumstances. It’s sweet, and maybe it’ll encourage viewers to strike up a conversation next time they’re in the back seat — but more likely, they’ll be content with having life stories delivered straight to their screens.

The Public-Transportation Pollster

New Yorkers are experts at walking fast and ignoring people, but get them going, and they will talk. So some hosts loiter in the subway, collecting screeds like they’re metro fare. Series like the “one-minute podcast” Subway Takes or the rowdier, realer Subway Oracle bank on fiery personalities and points of view. If successful, the opinions featured can spinoff into their own phenomenon and generate discourse for days. The best videos feel punchy and off the cuff. The most annoying ones feature respondents who obviously come preprepared, whether because they’re celebrities who’ve coordinated their interviews in advance or aspiring social-media personalities desperate for their 15 minutes of fame. The boilerplate prompts often lead to underwhelming rallying causes like “Normalize eating bread.” But sometimes, the initial question is actually kind of out of pocket, and the results are more entertaining.

The Intergenerational Whisperer

Somewhat similar to the “Faith-in-Humanity Restorer,” these guys chase after surprising life wisdom, but from more candid and plucky subjects. They target the extremes of the age spectrum, those either too young or too old to be anyone but themselves. Recess Therapy holds the mic up to rambunctious little kids who blurt things like “the meaning of life is beans.” They don’t always make sense, but they’re funny; their priorities are so far out from the average adult’s they put ours into perspective. Advanced Style also offers viewers a vision of less self-conscious, regulated selves, but from the opposite side. It features older women in head-to-toe fabulousness: funky glasses, loudly colored dresses, giant hats that beg to be in the audience of the Kentucky Derby. It’s about the great looks, but it’s also about absorbing their confidence and self-curiosity. The gist is that the best times of your life are yet to come — just strut your stuff.

Briefly Noted

The “Guess the Artist” Game-Show Guy: tests music fans and celebrities on their music knowledge.

The Good Grub Guru: scouts for “hype-worthy” recommendations around the city.

The Political Provocateur: presents dumb, binary political prompts.

The Douchebag Misogynist: swoops in on hot girls with the intention of making them look silly, dumb, or reckless.

The Sex-Ed Susser: quizzes men on their understanding of basic anatomy and sexual education.

The Catchall Variety-Show Host: some combination of the more benign categories above.