If you are the host of a show, you are either guiding it—or you are being led by the culture you’ve allowed to exist. And sometimes that culture annoys the hell out of you every single day you walk into the studio. You hate that the show feels like it’s on autopilot, and deep down you know why: you stopped directing it. It doesn’t sound the way you want it to. People are taking liberties with your show, and you let it go on way too long. Now it’s driving you crazy.
You’re not alone. Been there. Done that.
This usually happens when you try to make everybody happy by giving them too much leeway they were never qualified to handle. They are not you. They don’t hear the show the way you hear it. And now you’re sitting there asking yourself, How do I turn this ship around without people thinking I’m a player hater? LOL.
Course-correcting an ensemble radio show is not easy. First, you have to own the mistake. You allowed things to get goofy in the studio. I remember sitting my team down in a meeting and finally telling them how I felt about the show—and they stared at me with blank faces. Why? Because I was in passive-aggressive mode. What I was talking about things that happened eight months earlier. But I had to say it, because that’s where the slide began. Passive aggressive behavior is not a good look on the leader of a show.
Here’s the problem: when you don’t address things in real time, people assume everything is fine. So when you finally speak up, you have to be brutally honest so your reasoning makes sense. Bring examples. Specific ones. Don’t blame them—blame yourself. Let them know this correction is about making the show better. Then go through with it. Let there be silence. Don’t over-explain. Don’t fill the air trying to make everyone comfortable. Be ready for pointed questions. And when they come, you better be able to answer them with certainty.
Now let me say this clearly—make sure your insecurity isn’t the real issue. Is there an inadequacy in your own performance? Hmmmm....
As the host, the quarterback, it’s your job to make plays. That also means coaching. Spend time with your people one-on-one. Take them to lunch. Listen to what makes them tick. I wish I had done more of that with some of my teams looking back. Because when the energy is off in the studio, people don’t look at the producers or the co-hosts first—they look at you. Your nervous system already knows things are off. Every time you close a break and feel that tightness, that’s your body telling you, You need to fix this. They know too, but they may not say anything to you, but they will among themselves.
Good coaching—real coaching—means dealing with nuance. It means navigating delicate egos without breaking spirits. That’s hard. And before you correct anyone else, you owe yourself one honest question: is it really them, or is it you?
Are you insecure about your own performance? Are you jealous of the people you surrounded yourself with? Are they outshining you? Are they getting more attention than you as the host? Can you keep up with your co-host? Only you can answer that. Think carefully before you walk into that room and say anything.
One thing I know about myself—I love talent. I’ve never been jealous or envious of anyone I’ve chosen to be on my show. What I was guilty of was being too liberal. Not saying no. Letting a wack feature live way too long. The kind that made you cringe every time the intro played. “Oh God.”
Those were learning lessons. And I’m passing them on to you so you don’t have to repeat them.
This article is for anyone leading an ensemble of two or more people on a radio show or podcast. Get control of your ship before it sinks.
If this is speaking to you, you’re who I write for.









