Forget Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg.
The magic of Clubhouse is being in a room when (Marvel super)heroes — like Shang-Chi actor Simu Liu (no relation) —unexpectedly drop in to talk about being Asian on a Lunar New Year when pandemic precautions isolate you from family who would normally shower you with red envelopes and cook way too many courses of food (like fat choy). It’s the magic of knowing you’re not alone — even when you’re sitting alone in a room in the dark. There’s an instant community of hundreds of other Asian Americans/Canadians out there listening live to the voices of the same speakers and singers and activists and celebrities raising funds to combat Asian hate — nostalgic for food and family and traditions like you are.
That’s the magic of Clubhouse. That, with the press of a button, you can attend the most wonderful virtual open whisper mic of ‘warm-hearted’ musicians, singing you lullabies and reading you poetry until you fall asleep.
Or if you choose, you can “leave quietly” in order to enter the room next door, where Perez Hilton and legions of Swifties are hashing out their thoughts on the new “Fearless” re-recording. Or if you enjoy live train-wrecks — and listening to or being called on to shoot your shot in front of a couple thousands doesn’t give you anxiety — you can join the room of “NYU girls roasting tech guys” for some live primetime reality radio.
That’s the magic of Clubhouse. Why this very exclusive invite-only iOS app that scored more than 8 million global downloads in beta may be the having its ‘moment.’ As Casey Newton writes, “there’s a serendipity about Clubhouse that makes it compelling.” One moment, you can be listening to a meta conversation about Clubhouse; the next, in a room having a random conversation with someone you haven’t talked to in forever.
So how is Clubhouse different from Anchor? Or Houseparty? Or a radio show with callers? Or a live unedited podcast? Or a conference call? Or all the things that came before?
Being invited to Clubhouse is like being given a time-turner to listen to and perhaps participate in infinite ever-expanding panels at a Comic-Con/SXSW/TED Talk. No, you can’t rewind and record. But you can certainly voyeuristically jump from room to room to room until an overheard conversation catches your interest — and that, my friends, feels a bit like being Hermione Granger time traveling to catch lectures.
Of course, Clubhouse isn’t without its faults and growing pains. There’s the fake identities, boring chats, misogyny, racism, appropriation, and the boys club of blocking. And before you join, you should read about Clubhouse’s growth hacking scheme, which is creepy and potentially dangerous — especially if your phone contains the numbers of stalkers and multiple exes you’d rather avoid.
And then, there are the existential questions. Who knows if this startup with a $1 billion valuation could survive its novelty? Or if this addictive app will become part of our post-pandemic lifestyles? Or if it’ll remain the last man standing against social heavyweights like Facebook and Twitter, who are also rapidly developing their own live audio clones?
Still, there’s magic in the moment. And you only need to find one gem beneath the garbage to fall in love — even if it’s a fling.
Other listens and reads:
Watching:
“Reframing Britney”
Cooking:
What else I’m doing this week:
Cross country skiing
Cleaning my desktop for the first time in forever