Hello again, sorry about that one-week hiatus that three of you (maybe) may have noticed. It’s been a rough time in my brain lately, but it’s how it is. This week we have a specific theme, which will happen from time to time. This time around I picked songs that all relate to my stand-up performances. The reason being that I miss performing, and I recently made the audio of my 2019 show, “I Can’t Believe I’m Not Better!” available here on this very site. With that, let’s look at week 4.

Smile! No One Cares How You Feel, by The Gothic Archies: The first thing to know about this song is its origin as a song written as a bonus for the audiobook edition of one of the “A Series of Unfortunate Events” books (specifically, “The Hostile Hospital”). As can be readily noticed from the, well, everything of the song, it is the work of Stephin Merritt of The Magnetic Fields, working under the band name “The Gothic Archies.” Stylistically and tonally, Merritt’s work is a no-brainer to include in the sonic world of this book series, but the connection actually is a bit more surprising than one would expect; Daniel Handler (better known by his nom de plume, Lemony Snicket) is not only an author, but a musician, and had played on a number of Magnetic Fields albums (and is one of the Gothic Archies, naturally). This song was what I used as my opening music for the last time I did open mic at the local establishment for such things, the now-closed Cozmic Cafe. I like to think that it establishes the uneasy and macabre-tinged-humor feeling I like to have at the outset of most of my live performances.

Tears of a Clown, by The English Beat: Though the Smokey Robinson is the classic standby (and I have also included as the ending music of one of my shows in 2018), the energy in The Beat (AKA The English Beat in the USA) is too good to ignore. As a fan of classic ska (if you are anti-ska your opinions are wrong) I’ve known this song longer than the original, and always loved it. The bass line is an absolute bop, and the guitar standing in for the woodwinds of the original is just too good to overlook. I wanted to go in with a high-energy song (for once) and this was the perfect choice to still let that overtone of sadness sort of stand as a content warning.

Incubation, by Joy Division: Starting right off with an electronic drone in the background, the thumping drums, and a classic Peter Hook bass line, Incubation manages to be one of the best examples of the quintessential Joy Division sound without even featuring Ian Curtis’s lyrics. When putting together a show, one of my primary concerns is pinning down the “shape” of the show; where and how I want it to feel at the start, the end, and what the arc between those two will shoot for. For me, one of the most vital elements in that is the music at the start and end of the show, what tone and energy will be starting things off and what will the audience be hearing as things wrap up. By my 2019 show, “I Can’t Believe I’m Not Better!”, I had already established pretty clear themes in how my shows would go that I knew the audience would anticipate, which “Incubation” fit well with, aiding in the reversal I wanted to start the show off with.

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows, by Leslie Gore: When conceptualizing the show, I knew I wanted to subvert what the audience, expected within minutes of starting. Start with a song that fit my usual themes, then move on to something darker; my best friend and co-podcaster Evan Taylor announcing that I was missing and had left a note telling Marc, the guy running sound, to play a prerecorded track that begins almost word-for-word the same as a suicide note I had written in May (for those of you who like to connect dots, yes, it is May now and I am having a difficult mental time and these facts do go together). The recording went on to make it not about me killing myself, but instead joking that the inevitable misfortune that was going to happen was, in fact, my show. The end of that message told Marc to play track 3: this song. I then walked out on stage, confident and smiling and cheery, and then immediately had a bunch of fake blood pour out of my mouth, and started the show. I wanted to start dark, go light, and let the discomfort settle in immediately, because, as a general rule, I like to try to find a way to make the audience off their guard immediately.

King Tut, by Steve Martin: I have attempted to write this part multiple times, to properly put into words the influence Steve Martin has had on me throughout my life. He is my favorite comedian of all time, full stop. One of my favorite movies since childhood has been “The Jerk,” the GREATEST COMEDY FILM OF ALL TIME. I’ve taken Steve Martin’s masterclass; I’ve listened to his albums (comedy and banjo) countless times; I’ve read his autobiography three times through; I’ve acted in one of his plays. His comedic sensibilities are just the best. And he inspired me to always try to be funny, even when the joke is both too dumb or too esoteric. I remember the first time I saw the Saturday Night Live performance of this song, and I was spellbound- it was goofy, it was catchy, and it was the first time in my life I had the thought “I want to do that. I want to be the one being funny.”

ART IS DEAD, by Bo Burnham: This song is, for me, a kind of ritual to listen to, to take as a reminder that I am very much that attention hungry kid that grew up to just look for more attention. The song is personal, it is biting, and it resonates with many things in my internal monologue; “I am an artist, feel free to correct me.”

That’s Life, by Frank Sinatra: The shape of the show had been nailed down for the start; but the closing was tougher for me to pin down. I had multiple songs that were standing around as possibilities, and it was only a week or two before the show (which I had been writing in bits and pieces for half a year) that I finally settled on this one. In retrospect I don’t think it could be anything else. The song is perfect for an ending, with the organ oozing through the speakers, sounding like they are playing through an empty room down the hall. The lyrics offer only some positivity; there’s a hopeful air, but the last lines fully declare the unsure future- “But if there’s nothing shakin’ come here this July/ I’m gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die.” I knew that by the time I performed the show, things wouldn’t be turned around (as it happens, half a year later, that is still the case), but I wanted to try to leave everyone who had just sit through my woes some small comfort, and catch how I was feeling, myself. And so I chose my last words intentionally; “I’d like to leave you with a happier note, but things are still how there are. But, you know what they say…”

And there you have it, week 4. As always the playlist is available on Apple and Spotify. Please message me, like, comment, and share, it’s actually a great help if you do.

Thank you for your time.