News Archive

A compendium of administrative miscellanea dating back to 2003

April 2006

March 2006

“Dark Side” reviewed by Pip Christmass for The West Australian

With his creepy blue contact lenses, Robert Smith-goes-blond bird’s-nest hair and bare feet, wino-trenchcoat ensemble, Tim Minchin looks a little scary – well, scary enough for me to believe it when he says he’ll come around to the house of anyone penning a bad review of his one man show, Darkside, and drop an unpleasant present in their pot plants.
Fortunately, I (and my pot plants) don’t have too much to worry about because the hype that’s been building around Minchin’s blend of stand-up and musical comedy since his knock-’em-dead performances at last year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival is well deserved. He’s found a comic niche, a quirky persona and a confident routine that has reached the point of polished near-perfection.
There’s nothing too topical or rigorously intellectual about Minchin’s show; for the most part, it’s just silly, bawdy good fun.
He opens with a song praising the fuss-free joys of an inflatable doll, works his way through the plight of the rock’n’roll nerd – the type of guy who’s just too normal to ever taste the delights of the chicks’n’drugs lifestyle – and takes a hefty swipe at the condescending mentality of rich stockbrokers patronising (in both senses of the word) the artist.
If there’s anything linking Minchin’s routines, it’s less the subject matter than his clever lyrical wordsmithery, and the anxiety-laden, emotionally dysfunctional, slightly edgy persona he projects.
He mixes a kind of psychological frailty with a streak of barely suppressed rage against whatever he chooses to poke fun at, from corporate rock posturing to the pop psychology industry.
The weirdest thing about Minchin’s show is that every time a critical niggle enters my head – well it’s funny, but it’s not that deep – he throws out a song that, with the prescience of a mind-reader, sticks two fingers up at my expectations.
Literally seconds after I make a note about the show’s absence of biting political satire, Minchin launches into his ridiculous Middle East Peace Anthem, centred around the profound observation that neither Jews nor Muslims “eat pigs, so why not not eat pigs together?”
OK, OK, so comedians don’t have to make conscience-shattering political statements. But isn’t there some sort of message Minchin wants his audience to take with them when they leave?
Well as it turns out, yes – there is. With the simply lit stage mutating into an eye-popping attack of fluorescent “stadium rock” lights, Minchin adopts his best Bono pose, rips off his shirt and flings out the all-important Message for the Evening: please, please take your environmentally friendly canvas bags with you when you go to the supermarket.
What elevates Minchin’s comedy above the merely enjoyable is the remarkable musicianship that accompanies it. He can take on a range of vocal styles, play the piano with aplomb and pepper his show with references, respectful or otherwise, to everyone from Burt Bacharach, Elton John and Jerry Lee Lewis to Led Zeppelin, Pearl Jam and U2’s aforementioned posturing crusader Bono Vox.
But it’s his spoken-word, expletive-strewn “therapy poem” that is without doubt the show’s highlight, a Tourette syndrome tour de force of brilliant comic timing that, for the first time during the show, had me literally in stitches, with tears of laughter streaming down my face.
This was the clincher: nothing else he could do after it could possibly be as funny, but it didn’t need to be.
By this stage I’d well and truly converted to the Dark side.

Buy “Dark Side – Live” Online.

A wee update from sunny London.

My album, DARK SIDE LIVE, recorded at the Spiegeltent in Melbourne just before Chrissy is now available online.

Just pop along to Middle Eight Music, and they’ll kindly send it to you wherever you are on this moist planet.

How exciting.

In other news, here’s the only review I’ve got (so far) for my London season of Dark Side, which finishes next Saturday. It’s from the Metro, and is quite charming.

Back in Australia in a couple of weeks, and will be locking myself to my piano to try and get some new bits ready for Melbourne Comedy Festival. Which’ll be a fucking hoot, I’m sure.

Right ho,
t.

“Dark Side” reviewed by Metro Newspaper, London

5 Stars

It’s taken some time to get a proper London run out of Melbourne’s Tim Minchin since he left Edinburgh last summer as the highly deserving winner of Perrier’s Best Newcomer award. But it’s been worth the wait. This barefoot Sideshow Bob lookalike has only done stand-up for a couple of years but the marvellous collision of mirth and piano in this shoe places him as Victoria Wood’s darkly cerebral polar opposite.

Minchin has a CV that includes acting, bands, musical directorships and solo music work – and he is super at tinkling the ivories. As a songwriter, his strength lies in inventive detail and witty wordplay. Rock ‘n’ Roll Nerd – about a middle-class lad whose dangerless life robs his songs of depth – playfully hints at autobiography.

He also does a good line in mocking the music biz, religion and moneyed lefties. His delightful upbeat ditty, Anthem for Palestine, has lyrics to make you gasp. The hilariously egocentric Canvas Bags sees a rapping Minchin revel, arms outstretched, among disco lights and pre-recorded harmonies.

Rounding out the package is Minchin’s ability to keep the show tight. His playing is energetic, his between-song patter fun, low-key and brief. He even works a guitar and poetry into the show. Other comics will be writing their next Edinburgh shows now – here’s hoping Minchin has another in the (canvas) bag.

February 2006

DarkSide CD

Howdy.

The DarkSide Live album has been finished and packaged. Hopefully before too long we will have it available to buy online and even on itunes.

For now, however, it’s only going to be available at gigs. So if you’re in London and you’re coming to see DarkSide at the Soho Theatre, you can buy it. Which is damn good news for everyone concerned.

For those interested in a DVD… thanks for being interested. We’re going to have to wait a bit longer for that because the production of it is no longer in my hands. When it does come, however, it is going to be real fancy with a menu and nice colours and everything.

Trust you’re all robust.
t.

December 2005

Donnie Darko song lyrics.

Hi.

A few weeks ago the was a show on the ABC here in Oz called “My Favourite Movie”. I performed a one minute musical retelling of the movie “Donnie Darko”, and a few people have requested lyrics. Well… two people actually. But that’ll do.

The DONNIE DARKO Song
So there’s this kid called Donnie Darko, he’s a schizophrenic teen,
And this aeroplane engine falls through his roof and lands where he’s just been,
But it’s cool cos he’s out sleepwalking – as is his habit
Engaged in apocalyptic discourse with this freaky six-foot rabbit.

You see our Donnie on reality doesn’t have a firm hold,
The rabbit teaches him about time travel and wormholes.
He burns down Patrick Swayze’s house cos the rabbit tells him to,
He shags a chick called Gretchen and the rabbit shows him what to do.
They throw a wicked Halloween party, with 80’s tunes and beer,
Then they hop on their bikes and ride through the night and that’s when things get weird.

The rabbit’s drunk behind the wheel, and Gretchen cops a car-full,
So Donnie takes out his gun and shoots the rabbit through the eyeball.
Then he carries his girlfriend’s body up the hill above his town
And watches as the parallel universe he’s been living in tumbles down.

Then using telekinesis he rips an engine off this plane
And is sucked back through the wormhole and he’s back at the beginning again,
So when the jet comes through the ceiling, he’s tucked up in his bed
And life is back to normal, except that Donnie Darko’s dead.

This film’s an examination of time and space and psychosis,
And a very good example of why they developed myxomatosis.

October 2005

Inflatable You Lyrics

Hi.

Loads of people who saw Inflatable You on ITV’s Tickled Pink in the UK have requested that I post the lyrics on my website. So I’m doing it. See what a pliable young man I am?

(nb. While we’re at it, I’d like to point out that the inflatable person in this song is not called Felicity. The Felicity referred to in the 7th stanza is the improper noun, felicity, meaning happiness.)

(Thank fuck we sorted that out.)

Inflatable You

Your love for me is not debatable
Your sexual appetite’s insatiable
You never ever make me waitable
Delectable, inflatable you.

You don’t have problems with your weight at all
You never steal food off my plate at all
I never have to masturbate at all
Unstoppable, inflatable you.

You never seem to menstruate at all
So you’re not angry when I’m late at all
I feel permanently felatable
Unpoppable, inflatable you.

With you in my arms I feel we could just fly away
With the right kind of gas I might even try it some day
In this ocean of life I’m never afraid we might drown
We could just float forever whatever the weather
Whenever my inflatable lover’s around.

Your thighs and buttocks are so holdable
You always do what you are toldable
And if we argue you just foldable
Controllable consolable you.

My mates all reckon you are suitable
I took you ‘round to watch the footable
And Steve and Gary said you’re rootable
Commutable, refutable you.

You’re never sensitive or tickley
When I rub you my skin goes prickerly
It’s know an static electricity
Felicity when I’m kissing you.

Your skin is so smooth – I couldn’t afford you with hair
You have all the holes real girls have got plus one for the air
Your problems are simple, I don’t need my Masters in Psych
To know if you get down I just perk you right up
With a couple of squirts from the pump off my bike.

You never wake up when I snore at all
A trait which I find quite adorable
You have a box and you are storable
Ignorable, back-doorable you.

Any sexual position’s feasible
Although you don’t bend at the knees at all
Your hooters are so firm and squeezable
Increasable, un-creasable you.

You don’t complain about my hairy back
Or ‘bout the inches that downstairs I lack
You’re not disgusted by my furry crack
Burt Bacharach, Jack Kerouac ooo.

Now birth control is not an issue
I clean it all up with a tissue
I bet my jealous friend all wish you
Were insatiably inflatably theirs.

Don’t let me down.
Don’t let me down.
Don’t let me down.
And I won’t let you down.

Tim Minchin 2003.

September 2005

End of days

Hi.

Unsurprisingly, my blog efforts have been completely crap. Sorry about that. Blogs are fucking boring anyway.

I’m sitting in Heathrow terminal 4. I’ve been here for an hour and I still have an hour to wait – a result of my compulsion to leave room-for-error. Admittedly, in this case I left so much room-for-error that I probably could have been the victim of an underground bombing incident, crawled to safety, gone to hospital, had some skin grafts, been fitted with an artificial leg, undergone a series of counselling sessions, found a new lease on life as a wheelchair basketballer and completed a phd in comparative religion and still have got to the airport in time to buy some duty free vodka and a sunglasses strap before boarding. Which is obviously absurd, cos I hate vodka.

A point-form analysis of what’s been going down:

– I went to Edinburgh,
– I did my show 25 times and lots of people came and saw it.
– I got some nice reviews.
– I won a prize which – it transpires – was a really good prize to win.
– I flew to London.
– I had lots of meetings and managed to secure a manager. (www.pbjmgt.co.uk)
– I performed “Inlatable You” and “Canvas Bags” at the Royal Albert Hall in front of 5000 people. It was really fun and made me feel really good about myself. If I’d had a couple of fish and a loaf of bread, I swear I could have fed the cunts.
– I did my show twice at the Soho theatre (in Soho, surprisingly) and it went really well.

Other good things include:
– I’m going back to London in October to do my Perrier Award show at the Lyric, which is a big, beautiful theatre on the West End. 23rd October for you Londoners.
– I’m going back to London again in February to do a proper season at the Soho Theatre.
– I filmed a couple of bits of stuff for various tele and radio things. So I’ll be getting some nice exposure in the UK in the next 12 months.
– I got invited to the Montreal Comedy Festival. Which is really good cos it’s a way in to the US market.
– There’s a couple of DVD-making companies who want to sign me up to make a DVD of my show some time in the future. So that won’t be soon but when it happens it’ll be proper.
– I think Sarah and I are going to move to the UK within the next 12 months. I don’t know if that is good or sad… but there’s no choice really, career-wise.

So. Not a very entertaining blog, but perhaps an informative one. It’s been a swell couple of months. I hope everyone else has had nice stuff too. Next stop for me, Tasmania. Launceston on the 30th and 1st, and Hobart on the 6th, 7th and 8th. Come and see the show you crazy Taswegian people. (For the geograpically challenged, Tasmania is the little island thingy on the bottom of Australia. It’s nice and they sell fish there.)

tx

August 2005

“Dark Side” reviewed by Malcolm Hay for Time Out Magazine, London

Malcolm Hay finds a star in the making at the Edinburgh Fringe

Take out a second mortgage, sell the car, and put the money on the safest bet you’ll ever make in this uncertain world: that Tim Minchin will be the next big thing in musical comedy. He’s a 29-year-old Australian who hadn’t appeared in the UK before he came to this year’s Edinurgh Fringe. In fact, he only took up comedy back home in Melbourne a couple of years ago. His solo show ‘Dark Side’ (at the Gilded Balloon), packed with so much energy and talent it’s bursting at the seams, should make Minchin a red-hot favoutire when the time comes for dishing out awards.

His sheer power and versatility as a pianist and singer are astounding. But it’s the fierce intelligence of his humour that makes Minchin so distinctive. It’s there, of course, in the lyrics – the Palestine Peace Anthem which offers a novel recipe for uniting Jews and Arabs, his song in praise of an inflatable doll, or the deeply sacreligious ‘Ten-Foot Cock and a Few Hundred Virgins’. It’s there, too, in the black comedy of his remarks between the songs. Minchin has lines that can bring tears to the eyes, although he undercuts even the faintest hint of sentimentality. This material is far too raw for mainstream television. But Minchin could take the show straight into the West End.

“Dark Side” reviewed by Dominic Cavendish for the Daily Telegraph

The Find of The Fringe

Looking like a cross between Struwwelpeter, the Cure’s Robert Smith and Hollywood’s idea of Mozart, Tim Minchin has come over from Australia to raise the roof at the Fringe. On piano, he has the fast-fingered grace of a prodigy. His lyrics are so sharp, they’d turn Sondheim green with envy. And what’s more, he’s very, very funny. He’s the find of the fest.

From the moment Minchin, furiously gyrating to thrashy warm-up music, tumbles off the stage, you know you’re in the presence of a comedy maestro. He brings his audience on-side within two shakes of his hairspray-saturated mane because he offsets musical assurance against an appealingly self-doubting persona, signalled in a wild-eyed look that is as scared as it is scary. Issuing hesitant, between-songs banter, this keyboard wizard looks most at ease when he retreats to his grand piano to hammer out dexterous ditties that alternate flippancy with deep feeling.

In Rock and Roll Nerd, a self-portrait in third person, Minchin pokes fun at the type of twentysomething who can’t give up on becoming Bono or Bowie; in Dark Side, he vents the frustration of a middle-class kid who had it too cushy to be uber-creative (“Daddy never came to my ballgame,” he wails).

Other songs broach the interminable nature of married life, offer a solution for the Arab-Israeli conflict, and issue an eco-rallying cry against plastic bags. There’s even a brilliant ballad to a blow-up doll. We’ll be hearing a lot more from this Antipodean wunderkind.

In the realm of music-comedy, it’s going to be Minchin’s year – but the competition is worth checking out, too.