Matt Schultz Talks Strip Malls, Sincerity, and His New Podcast The Heartsick Boys
Artwork by Jake Schultz and Josh Schultz
Strip malls, no matter where they’re located in our country, are fairly uniform in their abject ugliness. The beige paint, the random debris littered about, the absolute dearth of atmosphere that is somehow also an atmosphere in and of itself. The main character of The Heartsick Boys, the new narrative comedy podcast directed and written by humorist Matt Schultz, lives next to one such desolate stretch of concrete. The setting is inspired by Schultz’s mom’s home in Philadelphia, which is also near a dire shopping center.
“I love how on the side of the strip malls, all the pipes and the air conditioner stuff are painted the same color as the walls back there, that tan, as if they’re trying to camouflage the pipes, like they’re embarrassed of having pipes, which just makes me laugh. It’s such a weird thing,” Schultz tells me over Zoom.
These sort of mundane yet absurd observations are what make Schultz’s writing so sneakily hilarious. In the first chapter of The Heartsick Boys, our hero Jason (voiced by Schultz himself) waxes lyrical about how grim it is to have his front stoop facing “permanently wet loading docks and dumpsters with one lid open, one lid closed, winking at me.” The podcast—which boasts a brisk run time of just under 70 minutes—follows Jason, an aimless and friendless wind turbine technician who just wants a pal to hang out with. Jason gets much more than he bargained for, though, when he discovers a paper bag full of cash behind the Quest Diagnostics at the strip mall, complete with a note from the mysterious “Heartsick Boys.”
The story that follows possesses some Coen Brothers DNA, but it’s distinctively, undeniably Schultz. The Philly native developed his idiosyncratic comedic voice while writing at ClickHole, honing in on sad sack characters like the Hamburger Dipshit and incredibly specific observational details.
“I think I’ve just been training my brain for a long time to look at things, like very small observations, and build them out in a way that I hope other people aren’t doing,” Schultz explains, later adding, “I hope no one else has described a light fixture in a shitty luxury apartment as looking like an eye floater. I’ve never heard that, and it excites me that I’ve never heard that before, so I’m going to put it down on paper.” He name checks author Charles Portis as someone whose work regularly has him thinking, “I wish I’d thought of that.” (Not for nothing, the Coen Brothers adapted Portis’ novel True Grit for the silver screen.) As a writer, I know that feeling—the desire to word something in a way that’s novel yet accurate, which is no easy feat. And, in Schultz’s case, it’s also got to be funny.