The greatest compliment for me, and again, that’s one of those things I’m sure if I were to say that to him he’d probably be embarrassed by that. Give me a fucking break. It’s just the way it is. I grew up with the guy. One time, he let me get behind his desk when he was using Twitter and I tweeted from Dave’s computer to Fallon as he stood by. I’m like, the fucking dream. This is the greatest. I’m not suggesting that I think I’m funny, but to be able to be there and laugh with somebody in that way, just to laugh along with him, is the greatest. So with the podcast, the fact that we are able to laugh together scratches the deepest of itches for me.
And now SmartLess has been on for five years. Over 275 episodes. How have you changed as a host and as an interviewer in that time?
[Laughs.] What’s so funny is I’ve read the comments less and less as we’ve gone along, but certainly early on, people would say these guys are the worst interviewers, and those are the ones you focus on. You can have 11 people say you’re great. The 12th person says you’re a shitty interviewer, I’m a shitty interviewer. And so I’ll bring it up and then I’ll get various things that Jason will say: Don’t even read it. Which he legitimately doesn’t. But sometimes it’s unavoidable, and we’re all human, and to suggest that people are impervious to any sort of…it’s absurd. But I don’t think we’re necessarily interviewers as much as it’s you coming on and the four of us are talking to each other.
Vintage boots from Gator’s Vintage.
Okay, granted, but after 275 episodes, do you find yourself realizing: “Oh, I’m actually using this to answer my curiosity about how these other people do it”?
Certainly. I feel like I ask a lot of the same questions. The responsibility to get into certain areas is much more incumbent upon you if it’s your guest. [On SmartLess, Arnett, Bateman, and Hayes switch off who brings the secret guest, so two of the hosts are in the dark when the episode begins.] And so the freedom when it’s Jason or Sean’s guest for me is fantastic. They’ll say the same thing, because you just get on and just roll with it. Generally, if it’s a performer, it’s, what was the first time you performed? Why did you think you could do it? And I think that we have the luxury as fellow performers that it’s not just an interview. It’s like, I have my story, what’s your story? It seems so simple. And yet what it does is it usually opens up other areas and they reveal something that they did and something interesting. And I think that because we have a little more time, we have an hour, we then start to find nuggets or things that amuse us that they did or whatever, or it brings up something that Sean did that might be an opening to jab at him or Jason. None of this is by design. We’ve never discussed what we do. Ever. The fact that I’m doing this with you now, I’ve never really articulated this in any way and it seems a little absurd to do it and it seems a little self-serving, to be honest, and embarrassing in a certain way. Again, I’m not being precious about it, but it’s true.
Has doing SmartLess changed you as a dinner-party guest or a person on a date?
I don’t think so because I’m just as bad as I was then. Consciously, no. But I suppose subconsciously it may have occurred, if you can believe it, because there are a lot of people who talk about how much we interrupt each other…. Well, I interrupt in conversation all the time. It’s also three people and I grew up in a family of interrupters. I mean, that’s just the way it goes. But, believe it or not, I think I’m a better listener. Which people might say, Wow, you must have been really bad. But I think I am a better listener now. I think. If I can say that. I’m not entirely sure, but maybe.
The most steady work you’ve had all these years is voice work. How would you describe your own voice?
You mentioned to me earlier that you heard me coming in. What I think when I hear you say that is that I was loud and obnoxious.
This dining room was silent. You could hear a pin drop.
Yeah, it was deathly quiet. I would describe some of the people who were eating here earlier as simply cadaverous. But I don’t know how I would describe my own voice. Obviously, to me, it’s just my voice. But I know—I had a girl wait on me at a table in Long Island about three weeks ago, and she said to me, she was probably 20 or 21, and she goes, “Do you do animation?” I was eating with my young son, Denny, and I go, yeah. She goes, “Are you BoJack Horseman?” She had no idea who I am, which was delightful. But, yeah, it’s a weird thing, I have had people turn around in line at a grocery store when they hear me talking, and I never think about it in that way.