Alida Brill contacted me late Sunday to let me know that her husband, television and film critic Steven Harry Scheuer, had died the previous evening.
He cast a long shadow on my life.
I knew him, at least initially, from his Movies on TV and Videocassette (originally TV Movie Almanac & Ratings,and then Movies on TV). My copy of the final edition has been sticky-taped so many times from use, but still has pride of place on my shelf. Today I picked it up again. The smell of the paper always takes me back to reading it for the first time. In high school, I’d write out by hand reviews of his that had been omitted from more recent editions (there were 17 and I think the school library had the 1986-1987 book). At university, I referred to his work in essays for the film and TV courses I took. I still use this and his other books. There may have been other critics, but for me Mr. Scheuer was the best.
My well-worn copy
The description of Mr. Scheuer as a television and film historian and critic doesn’t seem to do him justice. As The New York Times’ James Barron wrote in a 2002 article regarding Mr. Scheuer’s eight-part series, Television in America: An Autobiography:
Under Steven H. Scheuer’s name on the screen are the words “television historian.” That will have to do. A more telling description, like “witness to half a century of television history,” wouldn’t fit.
Mr. Scheuer wasn’t so much only a witness as someone who shaped that industry and its need to look inward. In Mr. Scheuer’s obituary in the New York Times, William Yardley described him as “one of the medium’s innovators”. Mr. Scheuer was an associate director at CBS during the ‘50s. Television being largely live in those days meant that viewers who weren’t aware of a program before it went to air missed their chance to see it. The Times article quoted Mr. Scheuer from a 1992 interview:
In the middle of the night I woke up, and it was absolutely clear to me that the whole approach to TV criticism was backward. It was being covered the same way as books and plays and movies. You were told on Thursday by a newspaper critic that there had been an interesting program on Tuesday. It was live. So you couldn’t see it if you missed it.
Soon began his syndicated newspaper column TV Key in 1953, with Mr. Scheuer using his contacts to gain access to program rehearsals and scripts. He hosted the television program All About TV from 1969-1990. New York Times critic Jack Gould, himself an innovator of television criticism, described the show in its second year “on ultra-high-frequency Channel 31” as “an absolutely first-class program”. John O’Connor, in another article also in the Times, drew attention to the series’ unique “attempts to discuss various aspects of the medium itself, to conduct a self-examination on a wide range of topics”. In that article, it was television coverage (or lack thereof) of the Vietnam War, and the program that night included a short film, Vietnam and Beyond. The filmmaker, David Schoenbrun, had said that the film had been seen by eight million people in private showings, but “no American television station has been willing to show it”.
Mr. Scheuer was regarded by his peers as a master of the interview. I hope that in the next few days he gets the recognition he richly deserves, and that other parts of his life are also focused on. These include being a nationally-ranked squash player and avid sportsmen. Mr. Scheuer saw the need to preserve the history of television and film – and, indeed, his home, New York. His family’s foundation also supported the English publication of the book French Children of the Holocaust: A Memorial by Serge Klarsfeld, described by historian John Felstiner in a 1997 Los Angeles Times review as a work that “more vividly than any other source I know in any language, presents the human personhood of the catastrophe”.
Did I mention he liked scarves? I wonder if he had a scarf drawer like I do.
I am grateful that last year I was able to let Mr. Scheuer know how I felt about his work.
Memorial donations can be made to his alma mater, Yale University, and a memorial will follow in the fall.
With gratitude to Alida Brill and Christopher T. Cory, Scheuer family friend. Photo courtesy of Alida Brill.
What three items would you want to have with you if you were stuck on a desert island?
Variations of this question are often used as an icebreaker or team-building exercise. I remember completing one during the first tutorial of a second-year psychology class, which required the group to rank items most useful after an emergency lunar landing. If there’s one thing psychology students have an aversion to, it’s group work. However, psychologists have been known to throw their students or research participants in the deep end. In 1954, as part of the Intergroup Relations Project at the University of Oklahoma, Muzafer Sherif and his colleagues took two groups of boys to Robbers Cave in Oklahoma. The boys were split into two groups – the Rattlers and Eagles – and intergroup conflict was generated through competitive tasks like baseball and cabin inspections (that would bring out the competitive streak in anyone) by staff members. Prizes included four-bladed knives, and were highly coveted. As reported in the book Intergroup Conflict and Cooperation: The Robbers Cave Experiment (1954/1961), “The trophy was so valued by the winners that they kissed it after they took possession and hid it for safety in a different cabin against a possible seizure by the losers”. The experiment was a success in generating conflict. Of course, the experimenters wanted to show that you may reduce conflict by introducing goals that are only obtainable if both groups worked together. But I digress. In short, while many of you would find these Moon/Island hypothetical group tasks only mildly discomforting, as a psychology student they were true practice runs for our survival if we had an errant lecturer needing research subjects.
Another thing that comes to mind when I think “island” is Gilligan’s Island. I’ve always felt that the criticism of the show as being unrealistic because of how many outfits Ginger wore on the island was unfair. Surely, these armchair (or Panton chair if you grew up with the show during its original run) critics opine, the passengers on a three-hour tour would have never packed at least 98 changes of clothes (the number of episodes). I have a couple of remarks for this. Firstly, you don’t know how this is not only possible, but indeed probable, until you’ve travelled with my friends and I for a weekend away. Second, if you are looking for holes in the fabric a Sherwood Schwartz-created show, is this really the worst of them? I’m more concerned about where Alice the housekeeper slept in the Brady house.
With these two (flights of) ideas in my mind, I decided I’d ask some friends and/or generally nice people the question of what three items they would like to have with them if they went the way of the Swiss Family Robinson or, more recently, the characters of Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Their answers didn’t have to strictly adhere to logic. For example, if they were to mention a favourite album, a record or CD player didn’t have to be one of the other items. Also, they could bring/be with their loved ones – the answers needn’t be only items as specified in the question. The answers were enlightening, entertaining, heart warming, and didn’t once mention a volleyball. Good for them.
Mikey Wax has a new single, “You Lift Me Up”, and an upcoming album in June. It’s understandable, then, that he might just want a whole orchestra with him. Failing that, Mikey explained his first choice: “An acoustic guitar – I can’t live without a musical instrument, and I would need something to write about how lonely I was on the island. I would ask for a keyboard but that would require a power outlet. A baby grand piano on a deserted island would be pretty cool but getting one there just doesn’t seem possible”. His second choice would be, “Chips and guacamole – I hope this doesn’t count as two separate things. I believe I could live entirely off this one dish and be satisfied. It will provide necessary energy to build a boat out of tree branches and escape off the island”. For number three, “Scotch or wine – you can’t be on a deserted island without some sort of alcohol. Having a good bottle of scotch like a Macallan or a nice bottle of red wine would be necessary”. Singer-songwriter Matthew Jordan has been busy lately releasing singles, including his cover of “I See Fire”. His requirements are also musical: “My Beatles records, a baby grand piano, and maybe my Kindle if I didn’t have to worry about charging it. I think as long as I had all my Beatles music to listen to and a baby grand to play, I’d be happy for a long time Actually, listening to Rubber Soul while relaxing on a desert island sounds pretty awesome to me. It’d be like a vacation!”
Mark Deklin (Photo: Frazer Harrison/Getty Images North America)Ben Lawson (Photo: IMDb)
Mark Deklin plays the man with a past, Nicholas Deering, on Lifetime’s Devious Maids. Mark, himself, is a man of many pasts, with a background in English literature and history and having worked as a book dealer and jazz pianist. His choices reflect some of this. First there would be, “An iPod fully loaded with music – particularly classical (especially Baroque and Renaissance) and jazz (especially by the likes of Coltrane, Tatum, Davis, Mingus, etc.)”. Then he’d like “a Nook or Kindle fully loaded with books – an even distribution of fiction, science, history, philosophy, and humor, please”. Finally, it’s important to stay nourished with “a bottomless jar of peanut butter and/or box of pizza… No explanation needed”. Mark does concede, “And I guess water would be good, too”. Ben Lawson, Michael in the upcoming ABC pilot Damaged Goods and recently seen in 2 Broke Girls and Australia’s Love Child, found that the island would bring out some chords and a couple of clubs or spades, “I’d want goggles first of all. Then maybe a guitar. I don’t really play guitar but I’d presumably have a fair bit of time to get good at it. And then a deck of cards; I’d just hope that somewhere on the island there were some natives that I could teach to play 500”.
Comfort food, and comfort in other forms, is important. Holland Taylor’s character Evelyn Harper on Two and a Half Men would attest to that. For Holland, she would need on her island, “An encyclopedia, a mattress, and a chef who had his knives and pots and pans and olive oil and butter and a gun and a fishing pole. Young chef”. If Eric Hutchinson ever needed inspiration for a new album after his recent release, Pure Fiction, a lazy afternoon on the island would do it with, “A chair, an umbrella and a very large bottle of tequila”.
Sheila Kelley, actress and founder of lifestyle and fitness movement Sheila Kelley S Factor (seen on Oprah and The Ellen DeGeneres Show) may want to build a pole and ambient space for her pole dancing sequence of movements. She requires, “A solar powered iPod. A machete. A flint”. Jesse Bradfordis used to playing characters in situations of high-stakes such as Rene Gagnon in Flags of Our Fathers, intern Ryan Pierce in The West Wing, and Dom in the recent The Power of Few. So it is understandable that an island stranding requires a low-key approach, “Two guitars and a ChapStick”. For Shane Withington, who has played characters in rural (A Country Practice) and seaside settings (currently on Home and Away), it’s also a “Guitar”, as well as “good red wine, and Cate Blanchett”.
No man or woman is an island, of course. Fabian’s Golden Boys tour with Frankie Avalon and Bobby Rydell would have to go on hiatus if he were stranded, but he said, “I would want to have my wife, my children and my grandchildren with me”.
Chad Lowe grew up in the Midwest before moving closer to water in Malibu. For Chad, whose character Byron Montgomery on ABC Family’s Pretty Little Liars is used to moving (to Iceland, no less) or trying to move others (to Vermont or New Orleans), the choice was clear, “My daughter Mabel, my daughter Fiona, and my wife Kim. I realize they’re not ‘items’, but they’re the only thing/people I care about. Plus I know that if we were all together everything would be fine”. Donna Loren is no stranger to the question or the island. She spent 15 years living on the Big Island and Oahu in the ‘90s and co-starred in the Beach Party films. Donna also recalled an episode of The Newlywed Game in the ‘60s where “a husband was asked, ‘If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you like to be with?’ And the answer was ‘Donna Loren’!” (I think that couple made their second TV appearance on Divorce Court.) But Donna’s choices are also three people. She explained it this way: “The heart of my husband, Jered; the dancing legs of his father, Harry; and the great compassion of my first husband’s father, Si”.
Matt Long played the empathic Dr. James Peterson on Private Practice,as well as a freelance artist who crossed swords with Joan in Mad Men, working on the Samsonite account amongst others. Now that would be a sturdy island suitcase. Matt would want “my wife, our six-month-old daughter, and a fishing pole”. Rick Lenz experienced life on the plains in The Shootist and more cramped quarters in Cactus Flower. Rick tells me, “1: My wife—for my soul. 2: My paints etc.—for my soul. And 3: books and paper—for my soul. The rest, God will provide”.
Francine York probably doesn’t need books on the island. She played the Bookworm’s moll on Batman. Francine would while away the hours with “Liam Neeson, Chris Hemsworth, and Tom Selleck”. And for Dick Gautier, Get Smart’s logical robot Hymie, some long-time island dwellers are the best option, “I’d like to take Tina Louise, Bob Denver and Jim Backus”.
Some felt in spite of the fish caught, painting, dancing and companionship, they’d want to perhaps get off the island. “Mr. Warmth” (or, as any child will gleefully exclaim, “Mr. Potato Head!”) Don Rickles was aware he may be there for a while. He guest starred on Gilligan’s Island, after all. In addition to “a satellite phone so I can call a rescue team” Don would need “a portable toilet” and “a great chef”. Lana Wood as Plenty O’Toole in Diamonds Are Forever met James Bond at a card table,but didn’t want to gamble and spend a moment longer than she needed to either: “To quote John Sebastian of The Lovin’ Spoonful…a plane, a runway a pilot!” I wonder if John were marooned with her, could he put down his baritone guitar for a while and work on that runway? Some would stay and try to make it work. Erin Murphy sometimes got things done with a twitch of her nose as Tabitha on Bewitched. She’d want, “My husband, for love and companionship; a large pan, to boil water and cook food; and a boat, so I can leave the island when I’m ready for my next adventure”. Josephine Mitchell, star of A Country Practice, is much more use to a drier setting of that show’s Wandin Valley. However, she has a plan to ensure there will always be leftover sustenance, “I would take a Kindle with unlimited downloads, lots of sunscreen and a grape vine so I can make my own red wine”.
So, not one of my castaways mentioned food concentrate or 50 feet of nylon rope. But why would you, really? I actually sent an email through to Buzz Aldrin’s team asking him the island question. Team Buzz (they sign their emails that way) very politely passed on the request but wished me the best of luck. I like a Team that gets back to you after a request, even if it’s not an affirmative. If I ever am stuck in one of those team-building exercises again and the Moon question comes up, you know who I’ll call.
Whose choices would make you want to join them on their island? What would you take with you? I’d love to read your choices in the Comments section.
Sometimes the planets align. We were running late for dinner with expatriate friends who were in town for a few days. After 20 minutes of no luck finding street parking or a car park that didn’t close early, we ended up in a car park in Wyatt Street. This was no ordinary car park. Each level is named after a planet. Level 9 is still Pluto because, well, when you need parking (and there’s money to be made on office workers and people like us), the Kuiper belt and its dwarf planet is as good as anywhere. Each floor has a mural near the elevator proclaiming what planet/level it is. Or at least I presume this to be so. The lower levels are inhospitable to all but permit parkers. We were on Level 6: Saturn (My Very Energetic Mother Jumps Skateboards Under Nana’s Patio). Each elevator stop is accompanied by a voice proclaiming, “You are on [planet]”. Forget Majel Barrett, Star Trek, fans. This voice is decidedly more booming.
We finally made it to dinner. There were the magical 7±2 (on account of some joining us slightly later) people at the table. We’ve all known each other since we were teenagers and it’s easy to fall back into the old groove even when friends have been away for a while. After dinner we all headed to one of the laneway bars that have taken over Adelaide in the last few months. One gin and tonic (in a wine glass, no less) was enough for me and Bob, and we left shortly after.
Walking back to the car, we inadvertently took a slightly different route to the one walked earlier in the night. As we chatted away, I didn’t realize what street we were on until I turned my head and was facing a familiar façade. When it was a nightclub, it was called Aquarium. Now, I don’t really recall ever going there when I was 18. It had a bit of a reputation for being a place where the bad kids congregated. There wasn’t Yelp or Trip Advisor in those days for me to verify this, you see. But the site of this old club made me realize what was coming next. Down the road, not too far, was The Planet. The nightclub that my friends and I spent at least one, maybe two, nights a week at when we were in first year university.
I tried to peer in through the frosted windows. The building has been vacant for as long as I can remember with promises of reopening as a club or converted office/apartment space. Who said you couldn’t go home again? I should have remembered that you could never see ‘in’. Instead, you had to line up, sometimes half-way down the street on promotions nights, and get to the door to see how busy it was.
Memories came back in waves: awful champagne (we still referred to it as such) from the long bar on the bottom level that led to the dance floor; the upstairs where we spent most of our time, chairs and barrel tables scattered around pool tables; and the third level, which housed the RnB music and felt like it was tacked on to the building and could fall off at any moment. The bathrooms had attendants with perfume/colognes and hand towels! The downstairs actually functioned as a restaurant before the tables were removed from the dance floor and, if you went in and waited, the bouncers wouldn’t ID (this was long before the very stringent checks that go on now). A blessing when you were 17.
Where did the Chupa Chup come from?
The Planet has held somewhat of an increasing mythical status amongst my friends and I. We recall it fondly to those who never went there. I started to wonder, why? Of all the places that we went, why did this nightclub hold such a memory for me?
I suppose it represents, in a much heightened way, what it was to be young and at that time in my life. There were new experiences, new drinks (or just new drinking…not that any son or daughter from an Italian family didn’t have their first sip of vino at seven) and new friends. University only involved about 12 hours of on-campus contact a week and gave me plenty of time to read Gordon Allport’s Pattern and Growth in Personality between parties. There was, of course, the notion of no – or at least limited – responsibility at that age. But, what I think it represents the most is a time when anything seemed possible. You never knew where a night would end, just as I never knew what psychological theory would change the way I thought about everything.
The tendency to see the past with rose-coloured glasses is neither unique nor particularly surprising, at least psychologically speaking. Maybe I tend to do it more than others. Recently I returned to my high school and walked past my old first-year home room. I sighed and waited for the happy memories. Then I realized, wait a minute, for the most part I rather hated first year high school! Nostalgia has always had a seductive hold on me, even if it wasn’t my own. I was most fascinated by the section in the video store that was labeled “Nostalgia”. Not just because they were classics (John Garfield in They Made Me a Criminal and Chaplin’s The Gold Rush for two), but because their covers harkened back to something that couldn’t quite be reached but would be oh so sweet if you could get there.
John Garfield, possibly on a Planet pool table getting a talking-to from a bouncer. Photo: Movielegends
I guess it’s the same with what the Planet represented. In those times it was a feat of strength to wake up after a late night and feel no hangover. More accurately, the hangover was there, but you could still get through Sunday family lunch and go out later that day/night. Plus, you’d go past the baguette bar down the road from the club before hopping in a taxi. But hangovers still didn’t feel good. What about the night where I ended up wearing cowboy shooters all over my new very expensive (even now I consider that jacket to have been way too expensive) jacket? The sickeningly sweet pre-mix drinks, as well as the bravado and arrogance of people jostling each other at the bar to get those drinks. And the things those bathroom attendants must have seen?! I remember Bette Midler shuddering on stage when she recalled the ‘70s. “Running makeup, running stockings,” and watching a group snort a shag rug after she accidentally overturned a tray of cocaine. The last may not be true, but it makes the point. There’s something exciting and liberating about not knowing your limits; but what about the self-doubt, the loneliness of adolescence and young adulthood? Again, completely not unique, but oh so acutely felt.
The street had a lot of memories. There were other clubs there we went to that have made way for all sorts of things. Yes, there will be time for more reminiscing. However, at that moment, walking past that nightclub on the way back to Saturn, there wasn’t time. There was a nightcap of Tia Maria to drink at home and a BBQ to go to the next day.
I’ve just returned from a very quick trip to Melbourne for a workshop. Although Melbourne is always cooler than Adelaide, and even the nights in Adelaide have been getting colder in the last few days, my two days there seemed particularly piercing. As usual, I hadn’t packed clothes that were warm enough, and found that tossing my favourite black scarf into the briefcase on my way out the door was a fortuitous addition. Wish I could say the same for the book I took along with me. The book was on a topic important to my work, and I’d hoped it would deliver the promise on the back cover of a fresh take on a much-studied problem. It didn’t maintain my interest past the first two chapters I read in the hour before takeoff from Adelaide. Instead, while on the plane, I busied myself reading in the Qantas magazine about the top five hotels in California (for enquiring minds, The Beverly Hills Hotel was #1) and engaged in some low-level origami with a newspaper and the tray table. On my second day in Melbourne I happened upon (as I often do) The Book Grocer on Bourke Street, where I gravitated towards works on Lyle Talbot, Patricia Highsmith, and Ahmet Ertegun. I decided to go with the Talbot one for the ride home, The Entertainer: Movies, Magic, and My Father’s Twentieth Century written by his daughter, Margaret. I’m quite enjoying it.
I’m also looking forward to posting some new articles on the site very soon. I’ve been busy for most of April with conducting interviews and researching future ones. I think you’ll like them.
The photo below is from a little while ago, but what’s more Californian than Santa Monica Pier?
Have you ever felt “a bit short changed in terms of life” or that you’re one step away from getting “found out” as an imposter? Mark Smith understands. I knew there was a reason that I liked him. That and he’s also darn funny. Since starting in comedy a few years back while at University, Mark’s been living the life of a working comic gigging all over the U.K. Since 2010, he and pal Max Dickins have recorded their podcast, Dregs, a name coined by Mark’s father. The pair had been a part of sketch revue group, The Leeds Tealights, and dregs are, after all, the remnants of tealights. A few months back Mark debuted his solo Edinburgh Fringe show, The Most Astonishing Name in Comedy. Russell Howard introduced him as “One of the best new comics around”. I agree (as if Russell needs my approval).
In this chat, Mark tells me about all sorts of things: from comedy writing, gigging in intimate settings (not what you think) and the Edinburgh Fringe, to how he navigates expectations at parties and how he might like to while away some years.
Adam: When I was young, I wanted to be a doctor like the ones portrayed in the Australian TV serial A Country Practice. Then I realised I didn’t like the sight of blood (or stethoscopes for that matter) and so I thought maybe I could just star in A Country Practice. Those dreams of dramatic stardom didn’t pan out. What did you want to be and when did you decide that you wanted to get into comedy? Mark: When I was little I very vividly remember that I wanted to be a doctor, but as I grew up I realised I wasn’t good enough with any of the scientific subjects at school. So that was that I guess. I didn’t ever really think about getting into comedy until I was about 21. I was always a huge fan of comedy but never saw it as a thing I was ‘allowed’ to do I suppose. Then my best friend started getting into it and I was like ‘hey, this is forus’.
Adam: Tell me about some of your first gigs. Mark:My first gig was for the Chortle Student comedy competition. It was incredibly nerve wracking as you’d imagine. And I was rubbish, as you’d imagine. But there was something about it that I enjoyed and so I thought I’d give it another go. I’m still doing that really. Giving it one more go, every gig, until someone says that I mustn’t keep doing this.
Adam: After you’d started in comedy you didn’t pursue it intensely straight away? Mark:I probably did about five gigs in the first six months. So no, not intensely at all. I was a student up in Leeds and there were a few really good comedy nights but nothing that was exclusively for the students. Bear in mind that this is a huge university with a massive student population, and there was no comedy for them whatsoever. So I decided to start a night at the [Leeds University] Union and MC that. It was ideal really, I got to get some stage time and the students got to see some excellent comedy for £4.
Adam: Comedians devise material in various ways and settings. In her book, Nat Luurtsema said that she dresses up to write even when she’s at home, and the choices may be a ball gown or silk and stilettos. She did acknowledge that some of her choices led her neighbour to suspect that she was a rather unsuccessful (given she was always home) sex worker. You’ve said before that you’re not the kind of comedian who begins with a blank page and starts writing. What is your process? Mark: I basically write anything that I find funny in the notes in my phone. It could be anything, a turn of phrase, an idea or sometimes a fully formed joke. Then when my phone is filled up with those I’ll sit down and try and write about each of those ideas. Most of the time you look back on your phone notes and realise that what you’ve written is either impenetrable or just shit. Like I’ll often wake up in the middle of the night, write something down and think it’s brilliant. Then look at it in the morning and realise I’ve just written something like ‘dongboots’ in my phone. Nonsense. Other times though I find it’s a good jump off point. After that it’s a case of writing and testing it. And doing that until it works and is good enough for a paying audience to see.
Adam: Phyllis Diller invented her husband, “Fang”, for her routine. I think she said other comics used their real husband’s names, which was fine…until they died and they had to change the act. How do you decide how far to go with using real people or situations in your life? Mark: Ha! I tend to use real names for real events because otherwise I’ll get all confused mid-routine. If ever I use a made-up event I go with the name Kelvin who is a friend of mine from back home and he doesn’t mind me doing that because he doesn’t exist.
Adam: Some of your standup deals with your dissatisfaction with a monosyllabic name. You have the opposite problem to say a Ben Kingsley (Krishna Pandit Bhanji), Alan Alda (Alphonso Joseph D’Abruzzo), Fred Astaire (Frederick Austerlitz), or even Benny Hill (whose original name, Alfred Hawthorne Hill, could have led to a life as a museum curator). You did go by the name Winston Smith for a while. How does having a simple name impact you (how do you ever know what you’re getting up to on Google?), and when changing it the first time why didn’t you experiment with the whole thing? Mark: I think when I first started I worried about stupid shit like that. I thought Mark Smith was too boring a name and that people would forget it immediately but it turns out that no-one cares what your name is as long as you are good. If people want to Google me they can just bang the word comedy on the end of Mark Smith. EASY!
Adam: When I tell people at parties that my background is in psychology they usually ask, “Oh, are you going to analyse me?” Occasionally they’ll also want to know whether I can see their future. I have to then explain that, “No, I’m not a fucking fortune teller” (note: psychology, being the pseudoscience that it is, I do make use of crystal balls from time to time). Do people you meet expect you to always be ‘on’? Mark: I think a lot of people do yeah. But generally it’s not too much of a problem. To be honest most of my friends now are in the same job or something similar and so it’s cool to not have that pressure. I never really liked it so when I first started I would tell people on a night out that I was an accountant or a delivery man or something else that never really needed any more explanation. Just a good, solid job that would cut any expectation. Now I’m fine with it.
Adam: You first performed at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2007 as part of an ensemble. You then went on to direct and write shows in subsequent years, appear with your Dregs podcast partner Max Dickins, and as part of The Comedy Zone showcase. Just a few months ago you debuted your solo show. How do you prepare for the Edinburgh Fringe and what’s it like for the performers once you’re there? Mark: Edinburgh is an enormous, grizzly beast with huge blood-stained fangs and terrifying claws and a weird sort of grin on its face which has also got six eyes. Imagine that! I’m sorry what was the question? Yes Edinburgh, I have a love-hate relationship with it really. I love it when I’m not there but when I am, like most performers, it becomes all encompassing and engulfing. You start to think that the world revolves around this little bubble you create. I think it’s really unhealthy. Having said that, it is a wonderful place, the city is beautiful and it’s full of great comedy. I just wish it wasn’t seen as the biggest thing of the year. So many comics, including myself, see it as the focal point of the year whereas I think it should be seen as just a thing that happens. A really good, but horrendously gruelling thing that happens.
Adam: On one of your podcast episodes, you and Max were discussing playing to almost empty rooms. Mark: Four’s quite good though, isn’t it? Max: Well, it’s good in the context of having sold no tickets. Mark: Yeah better than no. I can’t remember what I sold. Max: What you sold. Mark: I know sellout was used a lot. The word ‘sellout’, total sellout.
I’ve lectured to rooms with a capacity of 500 before that only had four students. How do you deal with that sort of thing? Mark: It can be quite demoralising but that is the nature of Edinburgh, and gigs in general. As a new comic you learnt to play those tiny numbers so it’s not such a problem to be honest. Obviously it’s not ideal, but it’s fine. Sometimes it’s nice to have a small audience because you can literally get to know your entire audience. My favourite show of my last Edinburgh run was on the last night. I had seven people in and they were glorious. We had a proper laugh and everyone (I think) thoroughly enjoyed it. Obviously it’s a different sort of satisfaction to having a particularly good gig in a packed house but it’s still cool.
Adam: You’ve been recording Dregs since 2010. What do you enjoy most about the podcast? Mark: I enjoy talking shit nonstop for a while and then letting our producer pick the bones out of it. We’ve been so lucky to always have a good producer. We had Joe Thomas for a couple of years and he is basically a genius. He’s now the youngest station controller in the entire country at a station in Oxford. Now we have Will who somehow manages to make even Max sound amusing at times. And that takes a lot. I like working with Max though, he’s a funny little shit.
Adam: I particularly like your ribbing of Max in his attempts to be a ‘Renaissance man’. And how almost in the same breath you guys can go from discussing ‘gravitas’ or ‘hyperbole’ to more “blue” humour. Mark: Yeah, it’s pretty stupid most of the time. To be honest a lot of the time I feel like I black out and then only realise what’s been said when we hear the edit. I have a feeling that’s down to Max drugging me etc.
Adam: On Dregs you mention a lot of the travel you’ve done. Where is your favourite place so far and have you/will you gig overseas? Mark: I love America. I go there as often as time permits and plan to drive all around someday. I love everything about it but particularly baseball. For some reason baseball has really got under my skin. It’s something I can absolutely get onboard with and given that that’s about the most American thing in the world it make sense to move there and watch it every day for the entirety of my life until I die of baseball.
In terms of gigging I haven’t done that much overseas. I went to do a couple of nights in the Middle East in Bahrain. That was cool. I’d like to a lot more though. Specifically Australia. I’d love to do Adelaide and Melbourne. I visited Oz when I was about 22 and did that whole student thing of going up the east coast. It was fucking amazing.
Adam: A lot of people would have become familiar with you through Russell Howard’s Good News. It’s quite popular here in Australia. How important is a show like that to building your profile? Do you like performing for TV? Mark: I think it is very important, or at least it’s been very important for me. I don’t know if I like performing for TV because I’ve only really done it the once. Obviously it’s cool though and I’d like to do loads more of it.
Adam:What are your plans for 2014? Mark: I’m currently co-writing a TV series with Nick Helm that is going to be filmed in June. On top of that I’m writing my new stand up show and trying to develop a couple of other TV things, so I guess we’ll just see what happens.
Adam: Anything else that you’d like to mention? Mark: Yeah, get me on Twitter. Ha! What a shallow thing to say. But seriously, do. Like one in twenty of my tweets are reasonably funny.
Mark’s Twitter home he speaks of is found here. He also has a website (I knew I should have gotten something besides dot com. The .co.uk looks so pretty on his…). The Dregs podcast can be listened to here (via SoundCloud) or downloaded through iTunes.
Today, March 7, is my friend Donna Loren’s birthday. Yes this post will be dated March 8, but stateside she will still (a late dinner by now) be blowing out the candles. Now Sounds also used the occasion to officially announce Donna’s new CD, These Are the Good Times: The Complete Capitol Recordings, which will be released April 14. The CD is a compilation of Donna’s time at Capitol. During her tenure there she recorded the classic Beach Blanket Bingo (1965)album. Donna also released five singles from 1964-66, including the Northern Soul classics “Blowing Out the Candles” (the reference in the second sentence was only semi-deliberate) b/w “Just a Little Girl” and “Ninety Day Guarantee” b/w “Ten Good Reasons”. The singles also included Steven Van Zandt’s favourite Donna song “So, Do the Zonk”, which he regularly plays on his radio show; one of Donna’s favourites, the Tony Hatch-penned “Call Me”; and one of my favourites, “I Believe”. Elvis released that last one in 1957 – one of the many connections Donna has with Elvis, but that’s for another day.
Making their debut for the first time are eight unreleased tracks that have sat in the Capitol vaults all these years. Donna and I have known each other for over a decade. It is a friendship that I treasure. When I was visiting L.A., I stayed with Donna and her husband, Jered. One afternoon, after a visit to the Getty Villas and a very slow trek back home in mid-afternoon traffic (and they told me the traffic was excessive, even by L.A. standards!), Donna set about making us all dinner and Jered played me the rediscovered gems. Boy are you in for a treat. While at Capitol, Donna was produced by David Axelrod, Steve Douglas, and Al De Lory, and arranged/conducted by H. B. Barnum, Billy Strange, Jack Nitzsche, and Gene Page. The new material will delight Douglas-Nitzsche fans. And, she was backed by the Wrecking Crew, musicians she knew from her early recording days. Donna reunited with one of those musicians, Carol Kaye, on her 2010 album Love It Away.
Donna’s fans who visit her website and Facebook pages (Official Facebook Page, Official Facebook Profile Page) are used to rare photos. Her adopted dad/manager was a professional photographer (in addition to once having been a cartoonist for Disney and Hanna-Barbera). The new CD package will feature never-before-seen photos.
So a happy birthday to Donna! These Are the Good Times will be available in the usual places, including at Donna’s website.
Sometimes it is easy to forget that the production and release of music, films and books are driven by the supposed tastes of the masses. After all, you can put on your iPod in the morning on the way to work instead of listening to commercial radio, contribute to Kickstarter campaigns to fund small film and music projects, and track down with increasing frequency (and in respectful restorations) the most obscure of old movie titles. In the case of books, smaller and more specialized publishers often take the chance on works that are considered not mainstream enough by large publishers. And yet, we still see multiple biographies and documentaries produced about many of the same people. This doesn’t necessarily bother me, as again I can navigate towards other tastes. However, it can be hard to find really good treatments of the people that I (and I believe many others) would like to see.
Author Charles Tranberg is up to the challenge. He has previously written six books: biographies of Agnes Moorehead, Marie Wilson, Fred MacMurray, and Robert Taylor, as well as considerations of The Thin Man films starring William Powell and Myrna Loy and the Disney studios from 1955-1980. In his seventh and latest book, Fredric March: A Consummate Actor, Charles shines a light on the achievements of this actor who, unlike a Bogart or Wayne, was not a personality actor and has had trouble surviving “the test of time” in the public memory. I’m sure glad he did. Tranberg’s work in general, and his latest subject in particular, demonstrate a couple of pertinent things. First, that an author can find a champion for such works, with the supportive and astute BearManor Media publishing Charles’ entire bibliography. Second, that in the hands of an author like Tranberg, there is an outlet for an actor such as Fredric March and a career that is just dying to be remembered.
There are ample reasons to remember March: his Academy-award winning roles in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)and The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), Tony Cavendish in that parody on the Barrymores, The Royal Family of Broadway (1930), ‘Death’ in Death Takes a Holiday (1934), Jean Valjean in Les Misérables (1935), Norman Maine in A Star is Born (1937), and the man himself in The Adventures of Mark Twain (1944). He worked with the iconic actresses of the early days of Hollywood sound films, in elaborate costume dramas, sophisticated comedies, and later turns in Executive Suite, Middle of the Night,Inherit the Wind, and Seven Days in May. He was in equal measure screen and stage star, winning two Tony awards for Years Ago and Long Day’s Journey into Night, and often appearing in both with his wife, Florence Eldridge.
As a researcher, I especially appreciated the detailed exploration of Fredric March and his career in this new book. I had a chance to speak with Charles about his latest work, how he approaches writing, and the consummate actor that was Mr. March.
Adam: Why Fredric March? Charles:Well, for one thing he was born in Wisconsin and two of my prior subjects had Wisconsin ties as well—Fred MacMurray and Agnes Moorehead. Another reason was because March has some of his papers readily available at the Wisconsin State Historical Society in Madison, where I live, so it was easy for me to go and do research. The papers of several of his theatrical producers and many of the plays he appeared in also are at the State Historical Society. These are great resources and I used a lot of the information I got from these papers in the book. Finally, and perhaps the main reason, is because I thought March has become a somewhat forgotten figure and is rarely counted among the classic stars of that era when they are discussed. The truth is that he was one of the most important film stars of the 30’s and an important star on both stage and screen thereafter. I like to select subjects who have not had a ton of books already written about. For instance, I did the first full-length biography of Agnes Moorehead, the first book on Fred MacMurray and Marie Wilson. There is a previous biography of March but that was several years in the past, and it’s very good, but I also include a lot of information about March that isn’t in that book.
Adam:What is your approach to research and writing? Do you spend a lot of time researching and then attempt to write linearly, for example, or do you write chunks of text as you research a particular area? Charles:I do write as I’m going along. For instance, I will do a lot of research about March and the play “The Skin of Our Teeth” including reading biographies of Tallulah Bankhead, Thornton Wilder, Elia Kazan and going through the papers of the producer of that play, Michael Myerberg as well as any information there is in the March papers regarding the play. I’ll then, once I’m satisfied that I’ve researched that subject well begin writing about it—at least a first draft—and then incorporating it into the book. I thought this play and events surrounding it were so interesting that I devoted an entire chapter of the book to it.
Adam:You’ve become a rather prolific writer on classic Hollywood since your first book in 2005, and have now written seven books. Readers might be surprised to find that you’re not a full-time writer. I also engage with projects outside of my psychology career and am interested in how you think this influences your writing. Charles: It makes it rather difficult at times. Many times I’m very tired after working all day that I would rather do something other than write or research, and sometimes I do. But I have to force myself to devote a certain portion of the week and weekend to do it. Sometimes it is very easy to do so because it is such an interesting subject. But at other times you have to make time for friends, family, recreation and other projects as well. It can be a difficult balancing act. I wish I would win the lottery and could devote my full time to writing. It is what I love doing most of all.
Adam:You try to provide a balanced portrait of a subject in your books. For example, one anecdote you relate is of the long and happily-married Freddie having a roving eye (or, indeed, hand) on the sets of his films with Claudette Colbert.
I think that writing a considered analysis of a public person’s personality and life is a difficult task. Borrowing from psychology, I think that people’s perceptions of public figures particularly suffer from the fundamental attribution error or the actor-observer effect: mainly, that we stress dispositions or traits for these people’s behaviours and underplay the significance of situations. For example, an actor who is less than cordial to a fan or has a difficult relationship with a co-star is a “bad” person; while, if we were less than friendly, we can think of a dozen reasons (“I was running late” or “I had received some bad news”).
When you come across information about a subject that may cast them in a negative light, how do you handle it? Charles: I always attempt to be fair and balanced towards my subjects. Everybody I’ve written about I found myself liking or at least admiring their body of work. If you find something that may be a bit negative you can’t suppress it but you have to try and understand it and hopefully seek the reason for some of their actions. March was basically an admirable guy. I truly think he loved his wife and children. He was a great actor who made time for family life and also for good causes, but apparently he had this roving eye and sometimes hands or as Colbert called him “Twenty-fingers Freddie.” The fact is that when she confronted him about his behaviour he should have backed off and respected her, but he really didn’t. His wife and many of his friends thought he had very much a childlike love of life and outlook and sense of humour—in some ways it could be childish. Now on the other hand, some of his female co-stars called him the best husband in Hollywood and said he was devoted to Florence (Eldridge, his wife)—and that he never came on to them. Well maybe they weren’t his type. But truly the stories that Colbert and Evelyn Keyes told about him are disturbing. Despite my liking for him it is my duty as a biographer to write about such things as well as balance it out with those who say he just flirted a bit but never went over the line.
Adam:Which performances do you consider Fredric March’s best? Charles: I think his performance as Norman Maine in the original A Star Is Born is one of his best and one of the best performances any actor has given. He was really the focus of that film and he played this alcoholic actor on the skids who truly loves the woman truthfully and from what he observed from friends such as Jack Barrymore. The wonderful sequel with Judy Garland makes the woman the main focus where it really should be the man, as good as James Mason is in the sequel he pales in comparison to March’s Maine. His big break with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a tour-de-force, but he is also aided immeasurably in that film by Rouben Mamoulian’s direction, Karl Struss’s photography and Miriam Hopkins’ performance. The Best Years of Our Lives is probably the one film he made that is the best remembered to film fans to this day (the only one of his films to make the AFI list of the 100 Greatest Films). He hasn’t got the biggest role in the film (Dana Andrews does) but he makes all his scenes count especially the ones he shares with Myrna Loy. He gives a deeply poignant performance as ‘Death’ in Death Takes a Holiday.
What might shock some is that he was a wonderful light comedy actor in films like Nothing Sacred, Laughter and I Married a Witch. There are lesser known films in which he shines as well: The Eagle and the Hawk (agonizing over the killing that results from war), One Foot in Heaven (a lovely piece of Americana), The Adventures of Mark Twain and an interesting film about euthanasia An Act of Murder. I also like him in Inherit the Wind with Spencer Tracy, but do think director Stanley Kramer lets him ham it up a bit too much at times.
One performance which may have been his very best, we can only go from contemporary accounts about and that was his work as James Tyrone in the original Broadway production of Long Day’s Journey into Night. I wish he had done the 1962 movie with Katharine Hepburn.
Elizabeth Jenns and Fredric March in a production still from “A Star is Born”. Photo: Adam Gerace private collection
Adam:Looking at his work, Fredric started in early Paramount films and was often second fiddle to a number of dynamic actresses before his success with The Royal Family of Broadway and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and then a string of important and successful film and theatre projects. Success was not always guaranteed, however, and there were flops and career setbacks. Most notable were accusations of Communist sympathies that affected his career in the early ‘50s. Through it all, he seemed to work constantly and, perhaps, exhaustingly. How would you describe March’s approach to his career? Charles:I think he viewed himself as a working actor—never a star. I also think he saw himself more as the years went by as less a leading man and more a character actor—a leading character actor. His craft was what was important and developing a real believable character. That may be one of the reasons why he is not as recalled today because unlike contemporaries like Gary Cooper, James Stewart or Cary Grant—who are fondly and frequently recalled—March never developed a strong screen persona that he carried from film to film that audiences could identify with. As a working actor he worked. When film roles dried up, perhaps due to accusations of being soft on Communism, he worked on the stage. He went into television, one of the first major stars to appear in that medium. I should also note that March was one of the actors who when accused of being soft on Communism or even a Communist he fought back and even won a retraction from one of the rags that made the accusations.
“The Road to Glory” 2013 DVD release. Photo: Amazon
Adam:For some of your other books you were able to interview co-stars, family, friends and others. With Fredric March, being born 1897 and having passed some 40 years ago, this involved mainly co-stars from his later years. Did this influence your research and writing process? Charles: Well, it makes it more difficult and will continue to be more difficult as the years go by and more people die off. Luckily with March I did have many recollections from people who worked with him who have died off from published and unpublished sources, but more importantly I was able to use wonderful sources including his own papers and papers of those who worked with him to help fill in the holes. Many of those materials never utilized before.
Adam: I feel that anything I ever write influences me. What did you take away from writing a biography of Fredric March? Charles: For me, March and most of my other subjects grew up in relatively modest circumstances in small towns in the heartland of America (March, Robert Taylor, Fred MacMurray—and to a certain extent, though she was born in the East but grew up in the heartland—Agnes Moorehead), and through incredible will, luck, tenacity and talent transcended their beginnings and in doing so never really forgot their roots. I think that says a great deal about them as people.
At the start of a year I find myself thinking back to what I was doing same time, last year. It’s odd because, until recently, I rarely had a January off since early Uni days and it was always similar. When I was writing my PhD, I’d cloister myself away in my office while all the academics had left for the year. Looking back, I don’t actually think we were allowed on campus during the Uni shutdown. But nothing was going to stop me one year from having a quiet space to try to make sense of Vernon Lee’s 1913 little pink tome, The beautiful: An introduction to psychological aesthetics. The study of aesthetics is quite tied into the psychological study of empathy (my PhD topic). As an aide, I will be revisiting that work when I finish a review article later in the year. For now, all I remember her writing about was imagining a mountain “rising”. As another aside, and in truth, I had two work spaces at the University. One office was on the campus where I tutored, and consisted of inbuilt wooden furniture and a wash basin. The other was a cubicle in an open-plan office where the director had an unrealised dream to install a spiral staircase from our offices down to the photocopier on the bottom floor. We settled on a water cooler.
Well, last year at about this time I was in a wedding for dear friends of mine. Five days later Bob and I boarded a plane to Singapore for a week trip there and to Penang. I always get sick on overseas holidays. It might be my body’s subconscious way of maintaining my “suck the enjoyment out of everything” stance, even when I am using hotel-provided Malin+Goetz. In Paris my friend Carlo had to put up with me sniffing my way through Printemps. When a group of us travelled around the U.S. a couple of years ago, I got very ill with a bad throat infection in Orlando during our Disney jaunt. Running from Splash Mountain to It’s a Small World was no fun and I did doze during Carousel of Progress. Anyone who knows me would know I must have been sick to sleep through that.
On about the third or fourth day of being in Singapore, like clockwork I got my usual illness. Fortunately, we were heading to Penang and were going to say at the Golden Sands Resort on Batu Feringgi Beach. Now, a bad cold (and who, really, gets a cold in Singaporean weather?) at a resort can be a bad thing. It doesn’t really want to make you swim all day. It does prep you, however, to spend afternoons on a deck chair only lifting your head to order your next cocktail. By about the third or fourth, the lifting of the head has given way to a little grunt in the direction of the waiter and a head lift abandoned part way through due to a lack of the needed amenities. When we moved on to the Eastern & Oriental Hotel we had a door in the room that led out to the stunning pool and, best of all (for me; an idle holiday was Bob’s worst nightmare) more deckchairs!
What do you mean you’ve run out of maraschino cherries?
It was in Singapore and Penang under the struggle of my delicate condition (kind of like Ingrid Bergman’s anxious opera singer in Gaslight, although I always fancied myself more the Angela Lansbury tart character) that I continued reading Nat Luurtsema’s wonderful Cuckoo in the Nest. In it Nat details her move back home to her parents when the Real World (i.e. the recession) meant that she and her boyfriend couldn’t find a new apartment after moving out of their cosy but happy (“Despite the squash, Craine and I rarely argued but I suspect it was because there wasn’t room to gesticulate. If you folded your arms, you got wedged and only buttered elbows set you free.”) north London flat.
Nat is one of my favourite comedians. I think that the first thing I ever told her on Twitter was that I’d applied a mud mask to my face and then gone to answer a really long telephone call and, when I’d finished talking, I’d forgotten I had the mask on and so was convinced my face was paralysed. She was sympathetic and, if you read her book, you’ll see that she understands things like that. I really related to her from the first few pages:
“It didn’t help that my parents had long ago convinced themselves that I was a moron, and I was reluctant to leave behind a life of giddy freedom to return to a house where I was treated like a lunatic child. Years ago they decided: ‘Natalie may be good at school but she’s an idiot otherwise,’ and like the obedient mollusc I am, I grew into this persona until it fit like a stained glove. I swear I’m fairly competent most of the time, but the moment I’m back in the family home, all the jokes about my ineptitude make me paranoid and incapable. I blame their expectations of my idiocy for my…well, acts of idiocy. I guess they could claim that their expectations are founded on my years of idiocy, but at this point it would all get a bit Catch-22”.
Nat is a very gifted novelist and I found myself continuously stopping Bob reading his book (or the cocktail menu) to read him something she had said. You really must read it. I find it too daunting a task (these days, I find many a task daunting) to pick out some of my favourite bits, so I just flicked through the book and stopped at a random page. Here, Nat and (Tom) Craine are sent to find a neighbourhood cat that Nat’s mum worried looked “confused”:
“It was hard to know what this situation required, so I took the Financial Times, an abacus and Craine, who had chosen a poor day for a visit. He had already endured a 7am visit from mum tiptoeing through my bedroom humming ‘I’m not here, ignore me,’ while she dug some socks out of my drawer and he shielded his nipples. In recent years my bedroom had become a communal storage area and our semi-naked presence in it didn’t seem to make any difference. It was like living in a handbag”.
And if audio is your game, you can download Jigsaw, Nat’s sketch comedy with Dan Antopolski and Tom Craine here.
Well, almost a year to the day, I am awfully pleased for Nat who has been nominated (with director Ben Mallaby) for a 2014 Best British Short Film BAFTA for Island Queen, which she wrote and starred in. You can watch that here and, again, you really must.
So, who knows, what 2014 will bring. Hopefully, I’ll finish some new writing projects at work. And I was thinking of buying a new vase. Lemme know which one you want the update on in 2015. Finally, if you head to Penang, make your way to Kebaya restaurant in the Seven Terraces Hotel, Georgetown.
A feeling of familiarity near the magnificient Kek Lok Si Temple
Back in August 2010, Kevin Mitchell was wrapping up a tour with the Basement Birds – a teaming of four premier Australian singer/songwriters: Kev, Steve Parkin, Josh Pyke, and Kav Temperley – and had completed recording the first full-length album from his group Jebediah since 2004, Kosciuszko. He’d also been touring solo under his, well, stage name… but it’s so much more, Bob Evans. This is the first time this interview has appeared anywhere (see the About Adam page for why). It’s a reminder of what we were all doing three years ago (seems there was an Australian Federal election, and a drawn out one at that) and a prelude of Kev’s thoughts about the direction of his music and what was to be realised with the 2013 Bob Evans’ effort, Familiar Stranger. When he’s not graciously accepting compliments on Twitter for his sausage (rest assured, most of these people are mistaking him for the unrelated restaurant chain and sausage maker), he’s graciously answering questions from people like me. He’s good that way.
Adam:You’ve been touring with the Basement Birds. What has that experience been like? Kev:It’s been great. The Basement Birds collaboration has been a part of my life for nearly four years now so it’s been wonderful to see it all come to fruition. I always suspected that Josh and I would do something together one day after we became friends back in 2006 as we share so much in common musically and our audience crosses over so much. I never suspected that it would be in this kind of scenario though. I think it’s been quite therapeutic and revelatory in a way to write with and spend so much time talking with three other songwriters because you learn so much from how other people do things and you also find comfort from hearing about other people’s creative struggles and how they deal with them. I think being an artist or a creative person professionally is quite an insular job. It is my job to write songs on my own that reflect my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes when you face challenges or difficulties you think that you are the only one who faces them. Spending time with other songwriters makes you realise that we all face similar creative challenges.
Adam:And recording again with Jebediah? What’s next for the band? Kev:Jebediah have finished a new album and we will be releasing it early 2011. It’s a very different record for us and I’m really excited about it. It’s the first real “studio” album we have ever made. Every other album has been recorded quite traditionally. We write a bunch of songs, play them live a bunch of times and then go in to studio and bash them out in a few weeks. This time round we had barely played the songs live, we wrote a few of them in the studio and we really used the studio as an instrument. I think it’s a really interesting record – which it had to be otherwise we would have had no real reason to make another record after all these years.
Adam:Now, on that Bob. As a collection Suburban Kid, Suburban Songbook and Goodnight, Bull Creek! demonstrate a lot of continuity as well as difference. Themes of the past but trying to live in the present, concern for the world, war, fraternity, success and failure and putting that in perspective – and, of course, love. Spanning at least seven years, how has your approach to your music changed (if it has), and how has Kevin Mitchell? Kev:I suppose when I first started writing Bob Evans songs I was writing songs to be performed live where as over time it has become more about making records. That’s probably the biggest way in which my approach has changed. I still love playing live and I want to write songs that I can perform by myself with a guitar down at the pub but I have become much more interested in recording over the last five years. I think performing live came very naturally to me and right from day one I felt like I knew what I was doing. As for recording, I knew absolutely nothing about it at first so there was so much to learn. I only think I’ve started getting good at it on the last three records I’ve made (the last two Bob albums and the new Jebediah record). In most other respects I think my approach toward music is much the same, only I have higher standards for myself now which can make the process more difficult. Stylistically I do feel like Bob Evans has made the records that he was designed to make. It took ten years but in 1998 I started Bob Evans as an outlet to write acoustic, country leaning music and eventually I got to make albums in Nashville that I am really proud of. The thing is, I don’t really listen to that kind of music much anymore. My tastes haven’t changed as such, because I still like that music, they have just broadened. So now I want to make an album that reflects that broadening.
Adam:A difficult question, but what are a couple of songs from those albums that are really special to you and why? Kev:“Nowhere Without You” is really special to me. It was the first song I ever wrote on an instrument that wasn’t a guitar. I just think I stumbled upon something really special with the “feel” of the song and I think I will always love it. Everything off Suburban Songbook is very special to me because it documents a watershed moment in my life, both personally and professionally, that will never happen again.
Songs like “Turn” and “For Today” off Suburban Kid are special to me because they are so personal and also really naive. Hearing those songs and those lyrics are like reading an old diary from a decade ago. It kind of makes me smile and also really confounds me.
Songs off Bull Creek like “Wintersong”, “Pasha Bulker” and “Someone So Much” are special to me but they are also quite sad so I guess I tend not to dwell on them so much. Perhaps in five years time they won’t seem so sad to me.
Adam: You’ve been playing everything from small pubs to supporting Keith Urban, as well as your recent tours overseas [UK and Ireland with Powderfinger and solo shows in Spain; check out Kev’s travel blogs here]. What do you like about live performing and touring and what do you find challenging? Kev:I love performing live. I’ve been doing it since I was five years old. I acted in plays all through high school and even in to University so the stage feels totally natural to me. That doesn’t mean I don’t fear it sometimes. I try to respect it. Perhaps it’s like a surfer’s relationship with the ocean. I guess I have never given much thought as to why I love performing because I’ve always just done it. Obviously there is something instinctive going on that I’ve never really questioned. I know that after a good performance I feel wonderfully happy and after a bad one I feel terrible. I guess performing makes you feel alive. It’s like a short sharp burst of hyper reality, where every thought and feeling is amplified. There are many things that are challenging about performing. The travel wears you down as the years go by. I’m 32 and I’ve been touring since I was 18. It affects me more than it used to. The monotony of plane and car travel and the distance from loved ones. Every night you want to have the best show of your life and sometimes you just don’t feel that great. But sure enough, once you get on stage something happens and you feel re-energised again. I still love travelling overseas, especially Europe. That’s the only time now when I feel that same sense of adventure that I used to feel when I first started touring around Australia.
Adam:I read your recent article in The West Australian (6/8/2010), Sex. lies and one too many parties [this was right before the 2010 Australian Federal Election]. Regardless of parties or personalities, socially and politically what worries you and what gives you hope? Kev:I feel ashamed that we allow Indigenous communities to live in third world conditions in some parts of the country and I hate that we allow people to go homeless in the cities. Australia is one of the most affluent countries in the world and the majority of people enjoy an amazing standard of living and quality of life. But I believe we should judge ourselves not by how well the wealthiest people live but by how well the poorest people do and unfortunately people sleeping on the streets and indigenous communities living in poverty reflects very badly on us as a people. I think we could afford to be more charitable in general.
I was filled with lots of hope when Barack Obama won the presidency in the U.S. It was pretty scary there for a while when you saw what the alternative was and that the people might choose them! I was so relieved that America made the choice that it did, a compassionate one, because it impacts on everybody and I do believe that the majority of people in the world are compassionate.
Adam:What’s up next? Kev:I will spend the rest of this year playing the odd festival with Basement Birds and preparing for the release of the new Jebediah album. Next year will be all about releasing the Jebs album and touring it. And all the while I will be writing and demoing new songs for Bob. I’m pretty much doing that continuously. I’m looking forward to being ready to make a new Bob album next year.
Adam: And, finally, just to get my Barbara Walters on: if you were a tree, what type would you be? Kev:I don’t know much about trees. I’d be something average but durable.
Adam: Anything you would like to say that I haven’t asked? Kev:I’m hungry. I’m going to go make some toast.
Kevin Mitchell wound up 2013 with his “Good Evans, It’s Xmas!” series of shows at the Northcote Social Club (High St, VIC). His latest album, Familiar Stranger, was released in March 2013 and nominated for an ARIA for Best Adult Contemporary Album (pipped to the post by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds for Push the Sky Away). As a familial aside, Joey Waronker is drummer on Familiar Stranger and the son of my good friend, Donna Loren.
Stop on by Kev’s Facebook and Twitter pages. Oh, if I’ve piqued your interest regarding the Bob Evans Farms, Inc. you can find them online too.
Kevin & Adam before the Basement Birds show, The Metro Theatre, Sydney (August 20, 2010).
Kevin & Adam after the Bob Evans Familiar Stranger Tour Adelaide show at Fowler’s Live (April 27, 2013).
Hi there. I’m looking forward to posting the first interview on the blog in the next couple of days before the end of 2013. The title of this small post comes from a song Better Midler would perform as her character Nanette and which appears on her 1977 album Live At Last. Bette biographer Mark Bego described Nanette as “the forlorn shopping bag woman who turns despair into optimism”. Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for New Year? Or maybe I’m just tired after the post Christmas sales. Guess I don’t have as much moxy as those really wanting 25% off of Ralph Lauren.
