2333: Human Slaves in an Insect Nation

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Andie and I went to see Bill Bailey this evening. Bill Bailey is one of my absolute favourite live performers, and I always enjoy seeing his shows. I have, however, watched most of his past content many, many times on DVD and online, so I was more than ready to see some new material.

Fortunately, his new show Limboland proved to be entirely new material, albeit with a few cheeky nods back at his past work for those of us who have been enjoying his blend of music technology wizardry and comedy for years now.

In some senses, it was a little odd to have such an up-to-date Bill Bailey show, because the last time I watched one of his shows, things like social media and YouTube hadn’t worked their tendrils into every facet of our existence as they have today, and so it was momentarily jarring to hear Bailey making jokes about YouTube commenters. This feeling soon passed, though, and the content fit very nicely into his set.

As usual, he made impressive use of the music technology he had on stage to provide a true multimedia experience. Of particular note was his iPhone ringtone megamix, where he blended together some of the most commonly heard (and irritating) iPhone ringtones to create a surprisingly solid piece of electronica, and his Ambient Electronica Workshop, in which he created a fake Moby track using samples obtained from audience members. The death metal versions of Lady in Red (which he performed through gritted teeth, having spent a considerable amount of time in his past shows mercilessly mocking Chris de Burgh) and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star were also extremely memorable highlights.

Bailey’s humour is chaotic and sort of directionless in a way; he comes on stage and sort of just starts rambling — in one of his past shows he noted that he doesn’t really know how to start performances — but his manner of speaking, his friendly manner and the vivid pictures he paints with his words make him a consistent delight to listen to, whether he’s talking about the impending EU referendum or going off on some surreal tangent about lizard girlfriends or Lionel Richie thinking that all horses are white.

I think what I particularly like about Bailey is that he’s not in any way threatening or scary like some comedians can be. When he interacts with the audience, he mocks them sometimes, but it’s always a gentle, friendly mocking rather than outright acidic, spiteful comments. And when he’s just delivering his material, it’s like listening to an old friend or family member with a particular penchant for delivering anecdotes — perhaps with a few embellishments here and there — talking to you during a quiet evening in your living room as you sip port, or over the dinner table as you await the arrival of the raspberry pavlova to conclude your meal.

I’m sure that were I ever to come face to face with Bailey I would react much like he said he did when he encountered Sir Paul McCartney — that is to say, much like I reacted when I encountered the father of the adventure game, Don Woods, i.e. turning into a dribbling, awkward moron (even more so than usual, I mean) — but since that is probably unlikely to happen I can continue to enjoy the mental image of Bailey as “the friend I never had”; someone I always enjoy spending time with, and even after several years without seeing him, the second he comes back we’re right back to the way we’ve always been together.

In short, Limboland was a wonderful show, and if you have the opportunity to see him live, I highly recommend you take it.

#oneaday Day 913: Funny Bone

Nothing highlights the passage of time more than switching on a comedy show and see who is standing on stage, clutching a microphone in their hand and talking bollocks to an audience.

Also, nothing makes you sound more like you’re getting old than bemoaning the fact that “modern comedians” aren’t a patch on the standups you used to enjoy.

I’ve never been a particularly hardcore follower of comedy, but I do enjoy a good standup show, and over the years I’ve appreciated the work of a wide variety of comics. I’ve never quite got the reason that comics rise and fall in popularity like fashion trends — surely if something’s funny, it’s timeless and funny forever?

Well, actually, no. That’s not quite true. I recall vividly seeing a show about Tommy Cooper a while back and finding it utterly cringeworthy from start to finish. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, but it simply wasn’t funny. Perhaps it’s because I wasn’t “of that time” that I couldn’t appreciate it — but then I look back at some of the stuff that Kenny Everett and Les Dawson did, and that’s still hilarious despite being a little out of what I’d describe as “my time”.

The earliest real standup I was aware of was a Lenny Henry video my parents had and which I decided to watch one day when they were out. (It was “15” rated and I was not 15 at the time.) While I didn’t understand everything that he was talking about — some of the stuff about marijuana went right over my head — I found it very entertaining. It’s not fashionable to admit that nowadays, of course, because Lenny Henry is now the guy who did Chef! and the man who advertises Travelodges, but I still find him pretty watchable when he appears on Comic Relief and the like.

The two standups I have the fondest memories of, however, are Eddie Izzard and Bill Bailey. I could watch these guys’ shows repeatedly forever. (Perhaps not forever.) Their comedy is distinctive, clever and rewarding — both in different ways. Izzard’s work rewards paying close attention to how he weaves the various chaotic threads of the things he is talking about together, while Bailey’s alternation between slightly-surreal standup and genuinely excellent musical numbers is just a pure delight to watch.

Going to Edinburgh a couple of times with the university theatre group was an eye-opening experience, as we got the opportunity to see a whole swathe of comedy acts — some great, some not so great. Some of the highlights included Daniel Kitson — aka the terrible DJ from Phoenix Nights — and Marcus Brigstocke, who now makes semi-regular appearances on various TV and radio panel shows. I can’t remember the names of any of the lowlights because in most cases it was just embarrassing to watch them fall apart in front of an increasingly-restless audience.

I will always have a soft-spot for improvisation. At university, we played improvisation games as warm-ups for rehearsals, had a weekly “Improv Night” and hosted an occasional “showcase” event known as Count Rompula, which tended to be largely improvised. (The Web of Dan still leaves me with shivers.) At Edinburgh, one of my favourite memories is seeing improv troupe Boom Chicago (or Boom Shit Cock, as one of our number who was constantly forgetting their name kept calling them) and marvelling at how quickly they picked up on suggestions from the audience and ran with them.

One of the things I like about Eddie Izzard’s comedy, in fact, is that it has an air of improvisation about it — though it becomes clear when he successfully weaves all his threads together that there actually is a significant degree of planning that goes into one of his shows.

I did have a point to all this somewhere. And that is that — yes, I’m an old man now — modern comics seem to be a bit rubbish, although I am using BBC Three as my yardstick here, which may not be particularly wise. (BBC Three, for those outside the UK or simply unfamiliar with the channel, is the dustbin of television, incorporating some of the most asinine documentaries you’ll ever see, a show called Snog Marry Avoid — which is exactly what you think it is — and what they call “experimental comedy”. I call it “shite”.) In recent weeks, I’ve seen a guy whose entire shtick seems to be just shouting at the audience (to be fair, Rhod Gilbert does this too and I find him hilarious — the difference being that Gilbert shouts with passion and righteous fury, while this other guy whose name I can’t remember simply seems to blurt out obscenities), a sketch in rather bad taste regarding death, and a guy who sang a song about a fridge. (All right, that last one actually was quite funny.)

Perhaps I’m just looking in the wrong place for my comedy kicks these days. As I noted, BBC 3 is a big steaming pile of poo at the best of times, so I should probably start by not using that as a means of judging modern comedy. Suggestions for fun and entertaining stand-up shows to catch would be most welcome, then, so please feel free to share!

#oneaday, Day 124: Evergreen Entertainment

Throughout most people’s lives, there are certain things that give them comfort. Certain things that they know they can always turn to. Certain things that are evergreen and never seem to lose their appeal, regardless of how long they’ve been in your life. It’s nice to have things like this, because it reminds you that however chaotic life in general might seem, there will always be a few constants out there that will keep you happy.

I have a few of these things. One of these, as you may have deduced by now, is Borderlands. One of last year’s sleeper hits, Borderlands was a winning combination of first-person shooter and Diablo-esque loot whoring action RPG. A whole bunch of people bought it on its release, which is good. But how many of those people 1) finished it and 2) are still playing it now?

I enjoy Borderlands because it’s entertainment you can “dip” into. It doesn’t have a particularly demanding story. Some might say the story is something of an afterthought. But that’s not important. In fact, that’s what makes it so “dip-friendly”, if that’s even a term. Because you never feel like you’ve lost the plot (literally) and there’s always something in the mission log to go and do, it can be months between play sessions and you can still have a good time with it regardless. I still haven’t finished the game with a single character, but I do enjoy going back to it time and time again, whether it’s solo, with a split-screen partner or with some companions on Xbox LIVE. In fact, I’ve played it far too little online, as it’s great fun in multiplayer. But for me at least, it’s evergreen entertainment. I can happily go back to it. If you still have a copy, hit me up. I have a level 31 Siren just waiting to show you a good time.

The same is true for Geometry Wars 2. Although the Squadron of Shame’s battle for high score supremacy is long over, with me claiming the top spot in everything except the Waves and Pacifism modes, it’s still a game I come back to time and time again, because it’s low-maintenance entertainment. And it has a kicking soundtrack. Bizarre even released an awesome megamix MP3 of it that you can pick up here.

Besides games, my other choices are TV shows, because they’re short enough to sit down and watch with dinner without feeling like you’re committing several hours of time to, and because they’re comfortably familiar. In particular, I’ve lost count of the number of times that I’ve watched Black Books and Spaced. Spaced in particular, for me, represents possibly the very best of British television. It’s clever, it’s funny, it’s well-written and above all, it’s evergreen. It’s still just as relevant today as it is now, though watching it as a slightly older person changes my perspective on it somewhat. Black Books, on the other hand, represents the other extreme of what British comedy does well – the bizarre and the uncanny. Black Books makes absolutely no sense and thus, going by past experience, it utterly confuses Americans. Admittedly I base this assumption on the fact that my brother found it really funny and my sister-in-law didn’t get it at all, so it may be a somewhat hasty conclusion. But if you want to switch your brain off and enjoy some purely comic situations, there’s few things that will beat it.

As you can probably imagine, in recent weeks I’ve been turning quite a lot to some of these pieces of evergreen entertainment to bring me some comfort. Of course, some of them have memories attached to them. But many of the memories attached to them are even older than those ones that are painful. They’ve been the constant presence in my life, and that brings me comfort.

What are some of your evergreens?