Which Podcasts Does Zach Kornfeld Host And Produce?

I get a real kick watching how Zach shows up on screen — he’s one of those performers whose personality is the point, and he’s leaned into that brilliantly. Most people know him from 'The Try Guys' where he primarily appears as himself: the neurotic, earnest, often-hilarious foil to wild challenges. Those appearances are more than casual vlogging; Zach crafts comedic beats, physical gags, and awkward-confession moments that read like acting choices even when the premise is unscripted. He also slips into short-form sketches within the group's videos, playing amplified, fictionalized versions of himself or quick characters for bits. Beyond the main channel, Zach pops up in BuzzFeed-era productions and other creators' shorts where he takes on tiny narrative roles or cameo parts. He’s done improvised scenes, voice bits for animated interludes, and recurring sketch characters that let him flex comedic timing. On-screen you’ll see him in documentary-style confessionals, staged set pieces, and narrative shorts that require a performer to sell an idea quickly — and he does that with a mix of vulnerability and goofiness. Personally, I love how he navigates between being “Zach the person” and a small, sharp character in the same minute; it feels like watching someone intentionally explore the shape of their own persona on camera, which is oddly satisfying and very watchable.

Growing up around the Lake Michigan shoreline in Evanston gave me a weird, wonderful sense of small-city curiosity. I grew up in Evanston, Illinois, and my school years were split between neighborhood routines and that intense high school energy — I attended Evanston Township High School, where I fell into theater and started messing with cameras. Those silly, late-night projects with friends felt dumb then but ended up being the seed for making videos for a living later on. After high school I stuck around the area for college and went to Northwestern University. Staying in Evanston for school meant I could keep the hometown friends, keep going to the same coffee spots, and still sneak into big-city internships. Northwestern’s blend of practical coursework and creative outlets pushed me toward video editing and sketch writing, which eventually led to working on bigger projects and meeting collaborators who later formed groups like 'The Try Guys'. Looking back, the combination of Evanston’s tight-knit vibe and Northwestern’s opportunities shaped the way I approach humor and storytelling — I still catch myself using that nerdy, midwestern tone in my jokes.

Gotta be honest, tracking creator money is part sleuthing and part educated guesswork, and I love both. If I had to put a number on Zach Kornfeld's 2025 net worth, I'd land him roughly in the $6–9 million range. Here's how I'm thinking about it: Zach's been a core part of a hugely successful group for years, with consistent YouTube ad revenue, sponsorship deals, and merch sales. Add in live shows, occasional speaking gigs, and any equity he holds in the group's company — those all scale up over time. Creators also diversify: investments, real estate, and side projects can pad that number. After taxes, agent fees, production costs, and reinvesting in content, a big slice gets reinvested, but the cumulative earnings over a decade still push him solidly into low- to mid-seven figures. I tend to imagine him as someone who enjoys creative freedom but also plans for the long term — so part of that net worth is probably in non-liquid assets. That $6–9M feels like a balanced estimate: not wildly inflated, but recognizing sustained income and the value of a recognizable personal brand. I’d be pleasantly surprised if he’s higher, but comfortable with the idea he’s built a nice financial runway by 2025.

When Zach talked about his health on camera, it landed for me in a way that made a lot of other creator moments feel a little sharper. He’s been public about living with Type 1 diabetes — the autoimmune condition where the body doesn’t produce insulin and people need to manage their blood sugar with insulin therapy and careful monitoring. He’s shared pieces of that life in interviews and videos, talking candidly about the day-to-day logistics, the anxiety of highs and lows, and how it factors into travel, shoots, and general chaos of being a content creator. He doesn’t just drop the diagnosis and move on; he normalizes talking about supplies, check-ins, and the mental load that comes with a chronic condition. That openness has been helpful to fans who might be newly diagnosed or who feel isolated by the everyday grind of managing health. I’ve seen comments from people saying his transparency made them feel less alone, which is powerful — representation like that actually changes how people cope. On a personal note, I appreciate creators who treat health topics with honesty and humor. Zach manages to make serious things accessible without making them a spectacle, and that balance keeps me watching and rooting for him.

Back in the mid-2010s I fell down a rabbit hole of BuzzFeed videos, and that's where Zach Kornfeld comes into focus — he joined the Try Guys right at their start in 2014. He wasn't a late addition or a guest; he was one of the four core faces when the group first formed under BuzzFeed's video banner. Those early clips were raw, goofy, and infectiously sincere, and Zach's awkward charm and nerdy humor helped define the group's voice from day one. Over the next few years the quartet became web-famous, and Zach's presence was constant through the BuzzFeed era. They experimented with every kind of 'trying' concept — food, fashion, intense physical challenges — and that variety is part of why their 2014 launch stuck. Eventually, the team left BuzzFeed in 2018 to take 'The Try Guys' independent and start their own channel and company, but Zach's role as an original member who joined in 2014 is the simple, definitive takeaway. For me, his timing and personality made those early videos a joy to rewatch even now.

I dug around my podcast queue and my notes and came up with a solid list of places where Ben Doberman shows up for interviews—some are deep dives, others are quick guest spots. If you want the longest, most conversational sit-downs, look for 'Doberman Dialogues' (his own hosted series where he unpacks projects and process), and the episode of 'Indie Creator Stories' where he talks craft, failure, and the little rituals that keep him creating. Both of those are on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, and you'll find full episode show notes with timestamps. Beyond those headline interviews, Ben pops up on 'Creative Minds' (episode focused on collaboration), 'Local Voices' (a looser community-style chat), and a compact feature on 'The Long Conversation' where the interviewer zooms in on a single turning point in his career. I also found a short-form clip on YouTube from 'The Studio Sessions' that highlights his thoughts on discipline and routine. These smaller appearances are great if you want bite-sized wisdom. If you like transcripts, the 'Indie Creator Stories' episode has a full transcript linked in the episode page, which saved me a lot of time when I wanted to quote him. Personally, I loved his more reflective moments on 'Doberman Dialogues'—you can tell he’s comfortable unpacking the messy parts of creativity, which made me rethink how I approach my own projects.

I’ve licensed music a few times for small films and commercials, so here’s a practical, step-by-step way I’d approach licensing a track from Zach Abels based on what usually works. First, figure out what rights you need. For film you almost always need a sync license (the publishing/composition side) and a master use license (the actual sound recording). If you plan to re-record the song yourself, you might only need the sync license. Check metadata on streaming services, Bandcamp, or liner notes to see who the label or publisher is; if Zach releases independently you may be able to deal with him or his manager directly. Second, find contact info. I poke around the artist’s official site, Bandcamp, SoundCloud, Instagram, and LinkedIn for management or booking contacts. If the track is registered with a performing rights organization (ASCAP, BMI, SESAC), their database can list publishers. If you can’t find anything, a polite DM often works—explain your project, where the music will appear, and a quick budget range. Third, negotiate basic terms: territory (where the film will be shown), media (festival, theatrical, streaming, TV), term (how long), exclusivity, fee, and credits. Ask for a written license that specifies sync and master rights, and make sure it contains warranties that the licensor owns or controls the rights and will indemnify you against third-party claims. Don’t forget to budget for cue sheet submission and to secure any sample clearances if the track uses samples. Finally, get it in writing, pay via contract terms (deposit + balance), and keep all chain-of-title documents. If time is tight, consider commissioning a bespoke piece or obtaining a cover version to sidestep a master license. I always keep a checklist and a named contact so I can follow up quickly—it saves headaches when festival season rolls around.

I get oddly excited whenever a favorite writer pops up on a podcast, and Jenny Zhang is one of those authors whose interviews I’ll chase down like dessert menus. If you mean Jenny Zhang the writer (the voice behind 'Sour Heart' and several razor-sharp essays), you'll find her appearing on literary and culture-forward shows — but the easiest way to track specific conversations is to combine title-and-name searches. Try searching for "Jenny Zhang" plus the book title 'Sour Heart' or +"interview" on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, and even SoundCloud; that usually surfaces recorded festival panels, bookstore events, and interview episodes that aren't always on mainstream feeds. I’ve pulled up live-event recordings from bookstore tours and readings mixed in with formal podcast chats, so expect a mix of formats. Beyond search tricks, I’ve noticed a pattern: Jenny Zhang shows up most often on writer-focused and magazine-affiliated podcasts. Look through the archives of 'Longform', 'The New Yorker' podcast pages, and publisher-related discussions (publisher newsletters sometimes link to their own audio interviews). Literary festival channels — think city book fairs, university event pages, or festival YouTube channels — are goldmines for panel conversations with her. Also check the websites and social feeds of outlets that publish her essays; they'll often repost audio or link to conversations she’s done with editors. If you're chasing a particular topic, add keywords like "immigrant experience," "microfiction," or the name of the magazine that ran the piece you liked. Personally, I keep a little playlist of favorite episodes featuring authors I love, and with Jenny Zhang that playlist includes a mix of longform interviews, festival panels, and magazine-hosted chats. If you want, tell me which Jenny Zhang you mean (the writer vs another public figure) or which topic you’re most curious about — I can narrow the hunt to concrete episode names and timestamps. Otherwise, start with name + book title searches and the literary podcast heavy-hitters; you’ll uncover both formal studio interviews and candid live panels that often feel even more revealing.

Lex Fridman's podcast feels like a deep dive into the minds of some of the most fascinating people on the planet. It covers everything from artificial intelligence and neuroscience to philosophy, love, and the future of humanity. The conversations are long-form, often stretching beyond three hours, which gives guests the space to unpack complex ideas without rushing. I love how Lex approaches each episode with genuine curiosity—he’s not afraid to ask big questions or sit in uncomfortable silences. What stands out to me is the range of guests—scientists like Richard Dawkins, tech leaders like Elon Musk, and even martial artists like Georges St-Pierre. The podcast doesn’t just stick to one niche; it explores how different disciplines intersect. Lex’s background in AI research adds depth when he talks to fellow scientists, but he’s just as engaged when discussing creativity or existential risks. It’s the kind of show that leaves me thinking for days afterward, especially episodes like the one with Nick Bostrom about superintelligence.