Here's Why Clubhouse Will Never "Come Back"

People ask me all the time if I think Clubhouse will regain the traction and potential it had at its height—back in early 2021 when it had 10M active weekly users, a $4 Billion valuation from Twitter, popular rooms would regularly swell to thousands of people, entrepreneurs were making money on the platform, and influencers and celebrities would log on.

I say no.

Yes, I know coaches and business owners who use the platform to nurture their communities, record podcast content, and generate new leads. That exists, and there are people I know, like, and respect who still believe in the platform. And I also know those who’ve left and will never return, those who jumped on once and saw a hallway of Covid conspiracy rooms and left, and those who’ve—never been on, understood, or even heard of—the platform.

If you’re new here and you’re wondering who the hell I am to talk about Clubhouse’s decline: At one point, I was running 50 to 80 hours of live programming a week on the platform—including the number one morning show on social audio; managing 80+ influencers worldwide; running a developing media company for a club with more than 100,000 members; creating interactive, brand-sponsored and celebrity-affiliated hybrid and IRL events—so I had a full picture of the platform at it’s height. As President and COO of Breakfast With Champions, I joined the club’s founder as a partner, taking the massive morning room he’d started and professionalizing it: capitalizing on everything positive about the platform and addressing missed opportunities and threats, which means I was constantly SWOT-ing Clubhouse itself.

If you’re here for the tl;dr on the rise and fall, here you go:

The rise: Certainly pandemic timing was powerful. The world was in lockdown: We were eager to have new experiences and conversations, and zoom fatigue was next level. Audio allowed for a continuous experience where you never had to be camera ready. The initial invite-only nature meant only people who were interested in “what’s new and what’s next” had heard of it. Celebrities popping on for fun kept it exciting. Bringing the audience onstage created a reality show element. Audio expedited relationships IRL. The ability for people to pop in and contribute or listen felt unparalleled; as did the access and style of real-time, audience-included content.

The fall: It’s not simply that the world opened back up—and I hate this explainer because Clubhouse made a lot of missteps that caused people to leave, specifically. Clubhouse never sufficiently addressed real problems: bullies, racism, Anti-Semitism, and misogyny; frauds and people being defrauded; a model that rewarded an unhealthy amount of time spent on platform; no editorial standards for content; a questionnaire on interests but a hallway and notification system based on who you were following; lack of communication with dedicated creators; the wrong first creator class; a bizarre social media strategy premised on being cool; rolling out features users didn’t want at the expense of features they did; failure to articulate value, brand, and purpose to a broader audience; initial delay in adding link, chat, and record features; failure to get press for can’t-miss conversations; failure to address brand-diminishing press; prevalence of Covid-conspiracy rooms at the top of hallways and misinformation; failure to reengage a set of people a year later who’d wanted to recapture the magic; and a failure to integrate into web3 beyond audio.?

If you’re looking for a deeper dive into what they got wrong:

• Not learning key lessons from other social platforms

One thing that surprises me—to this day—about Clubhouse is that it never verified nor had a verification process for its users. Sure, the process to get a blue check can be tedious and annoying, but audiences know that people are who they say they are. I’m not talking about the 38 Keanu Reeves who follow me on Clubhouse; I’m talking about users being defrauded out of thousands of dollars by people who feigned their marketing credentials and expertise. I’m talking about people—without a single Google result pre-Clubhouse to support they are who they say they are—selling courses. Bullies and fraudsters gained traction, and it hurt trust with the overall platform. (Two of the first things I insisted on at Breakfast With Champions were third-party influencer verification and the requirement to sign a handbook with standards on behavior and content: and it massively differentiated us on the platform.)

• Not listening to super users

It became a running joke that Clubhouse rolled out features no one cared about—without rolling out what people actually wanted. Take the most recent announcement of houses: One contact I have who regularly hosts rooms told me he doesn’t understand their purpose or functionality. Another who regularly attends rooms told me Clubhouse has lost utility for him: He’ll no longer be able to put an alert on all pitch rooms, because he’ll miss the ones in the houses he’s not a part of, and the FOMO and frustration is making him less inclined to use the platform.

I got invited to a house and now I get an alert whenever a house room is started—even though I turned off notifications for the app-prompting me to want to delete it from my phone.

• A broken algorithm and notification system

A friend once called me exasperated: “Sara, when I signed up I clicked that I was interested in the environment and sustainability. I never get notified those conversations are happening. All day long I’m notified where everyone I’m following is speaking and I have no interest in going in those rooms.” It’s funny because it’s the opposite of what made TikTok the platform to beat: TikTok’s prioritizes your demonstrated interests over who you follow. Clubhouse ignores your demonstrated interests to tell you whenever someone you followed is onstage.

As for the caveats: I imagine a Clubhouse fan would say: “Don’t follow them” (That’s not great for a relationship you’re growing) or “Turn off the bell” (That’s not scalable).

• The wrong first creator class

If I said I’d give 10 million dollars to anyone who could name Clubhouse’s first creator class (exempting those who work for the platform), I’d be unconcerned about losing $10 million. You know who I do know: quality creators who invested hours per week—or even per day—who weren’t selected as members of the first creator class. What a missed opportunity to highlight and support the people actually building your platform. And those who were selected—I never saw their rooms that I know of. (But I did see one selling a class monetizing the credential and telling you how she got it for a fee.)

When a platform endorses creators, they become an editorial board. Meaning the quality of the content and its subsequent traction reflects on you. Just picking podcasters isn’t it: Because moderating a room and engaging with a live audience is a different skillset. Just having an established audience elsewhere isn’t enough, because that audience may not like the new platform. Clubhouse isn’t alone on this one: Multiple platforms have declared they’re the platform to beat and proceeded to include social audio JV players on their team as core, vetted, supposedly all-star first influencers. If I can find some of the best audio creators in the world—real life practitioners who reach through and touch your heart like someone who crushes the audition for a reality talent show from the first time you hear them—there’s no reason every single social audio platform can’t find and promote undeniable content. (I have a roster, if you need one.)

• Their lack of identity and external brand

Clubhouse never developed a meaningful identity. Though regular users enjoy and employ platforms for a variety of reasons, most people can name a key definer of all major social platforms: Twitter is breaking news-driven. TikTok is for viral videos. LinkedIn is for professional networking. YouTube is the home of the how-to video. Snap is for disappearing pictures. Facebook is pictures of your college roommates’ baby and your Uncle’s conspiracy theories. Instagram was the filtered photo platform and now its wanna-be TikTok. Clubhouse went from: “What is that all about?” to “What happened?”

Clubhouse’s lack of coherent identity beyond “being cool” meant it was never appropriately explained to non-users in the press. How were individual insights by thought leaders not cropping up like graduation speech excerpts? How were beautiful human interest stories—beyond the PR stunts—not routinely profiled?

And when the press sentiment shifted from “look at this unicorn” to “look at this wasted potential” who coached Paul to admit defeat and “growing too fast” instead of pumping out every great thing the platform had done and was doing?

Not to mention, I think their social media was abysmal. Again, because they didn’t know anyone who didn’t make it onto their magical radar, they didn’t follow those creators, and they never highlighted their content. So, it didn’t feel like a populist platform: It felt clique-y.

• Failure to address accusations of racism, misogyny, Anti-Semitism

Black celebrities, Black influencers, Black creators, and their communities made Clubhouse the cool word-of-mouth platform in 2020: Chris Lubin wrote an article for The Root called Clubhouse is Worth $1 Billion Off the Backs of Black Folks. Now What? which gives a great overview.

Beyond that Clubhouse became known for racism, misogyny, Anti-Semitism; moderators who were ill-equipped to handle it; and being a platform that didn’t prioritize making its user feel safe, seen, and respected.

This isn’t sour grapes. I owe Clubhouse a lot, because it absolutely changed my life—and changed it for the better. I connected with people I never would’ve been “in the room” with, let alone talking shop and becoming close friends with, otherwise. I developed meaningful personal and professional relationships. The platform catalyzed my interest in Web3. I have done more in social audio than nearly anyone—if not anyone—who isn’t formally employed by a social audio platform.

But I don’t believe the platform will ever recapture the magic because of the mistakes outlined above. And as someone who loved that platform at its height, who knows the potential for social audio, who’s leaning into web3; my sincere hope is that outlining these mistakes will save others from repeating them.

This post was originally published on www.saramccord.com