I found these two Mister Glasses storyboards in a file marked “Comedy.” The numbers in the corner seem to indicate there were at least 4 of them. Pretty fun, I think.

It’s funny—I used to rather meticulously storyboard my videos, partly because that’s what Steven D. Katz told me to do in Film Directing Shot by Shot. It’s a huge pain in the ass. And looking at these now, I can’t imagine them being a whole lot of help. Did I really need to show very normal head-and-shoulders close-ups in storyboard? I could have just written “CU” on a piece of paper and called it a day. I just got back from LA where I wrote and directed a couple of webseries for Funny or Die and didn’t storyboard a thing*. Sorry Steven D. Katz.

*not entirely true, but for the sake of a clean narrative line in this blog post, let’s assume it’s true.

Big shifts are happening at New York’s public radio stations, 93.9FM and AM820. Most of the music programming is being folded into the classical programming of NYC’s tepid classical station, WQXR and moving to 105.9FM. So now we have three public radio stations. Fine.

What is not fine is that Jonathan Schwartz’s two awful shows, which occupy 8 full hours of weekend programming time at 93.9FM, will not be jettisoned with the rest of the music. And so every now and then, I will still be forced to accidentally stumble upon Schwartz’s shows. Which are terrible.

Jonathan Schwartz loves the “American Songbook.” He loves Sinatra. Great. But Jonathan Schwartz loves Sinatra in a way that makes you slowly hate Sinatra.

Maybe you have a friend who really loves The Beatles. When he (it almost always is a he) was 14 years old, listening to Let it Be, he had his first profound musical experience. It shaped him. He talks endlessly about The Beatles. Every track off of every Beatles album is something to ruminate on and turn over in his mind. The history of every recording session, every tour, every alternate take, the influence of every girlfriend—all of this is worthy of endless debate. When you listen to The Beatles with this friend, he plays the same track over and over again and makes you pay attention to the way that John’s voice breaks on a certain note. And you begin to hate The Beatles. You begin to think that maybe The Beatles weren’t that good (even though they were very good.) You think, “these Beatles wrote some pretty ponderous stuff, really. And a lot of it is full-on cornball. And a lot of it involves dumb studio trickery. Maybe The Beatles aren’t so good.”

The same is true for Sinatra when Schwartz gets a hold of him. The way Jonathan Schwartz coos and rhapsodizes over Sinatra is his whispery radio voice makes you think about all the things you never really liked about Sinatra. Schwartz makes you doubt Sinatra’s genius. A lot is made of Sinatra’s “phrasing,” but his phrasing is very showy and calculated. To my ear, it never feels like Sinatra’s vocal decisions are coming out of any real lived experience or spontaneous moment. He is there only to charm you—Sinatra never makes himself vulnerable. Instead, he endlessly theatricalizes the emotional moments of song, holding them at arms length, controlling the audience—showing the audience what a sophisticated guy he really is. Compare that to a truly genius singer like Billie Holiday. Billie Holiday’s vocal stylings never seem so much a “style” as an effortless extension of herself as a human being. When she sings, you are invited into Billie Holiday’s private world. Maybe that’s why it’s so embarrassing to hear someone do their “Billie Holiday” impression—they’re making something grotesquely inauthentic out of something so authentic. Even a singer like Chet Baker (who Schwartz hates) is far more emotionally sophisticated than Sinatra, because he is willing to dispense with the theatrics. But what is Sinatra without the theatrics?

The “American Songbook” is terrific. Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Rodgers and Hart, etc.—they all wrote some great songs. But without America’s great black (and some white) musicians and vocalists—if Tin Pan Alley hadn’t transformed into “Jazz Standard”—not many people would be thinking about these songs anymore. They would seem hopelessly dated. And this is what Jonathan Schwartz doesn’t seem to get. Instead of reaching for a Dinah Washington, he inevitably reaches for a Mary Martin (or even worse, Bernadette Peters). And so we have to sit through these endless, drippy renditions of classic showtunes before we arrive at one good one. Also, Schwartz seems to think that Broadway music is still a very viable art form. As good as Steven Sondheim is (not good), he will never be a Jerome Kern, so why must we listen to a single song from Company? But listen we must. And it is painful.

I know Jonathan Schwartz must have a wide legion of fans out there, but I know of only one—improviser Michael Delaney.  And he is an anomaly. So if anyone from the WYNC brass is reading this, might I suggest you get rid of Schwartz now, if it’s not already too late. But please don’t replace him with “Breakfast with The Beatles.”

I muscled my way into an improv set at the UCB Theatre last night. Actually, the way I remember it, Neil Casey asked me if I wanted to do a Harold and I said “sure”—the way Dyna remembers it, Neil asked her if she wanted to do a Harold and I said, “can I do one too!” The last time I did any improvising was 5 years ago. Being on stage again, I felt that slightly self-conscious feeling I always felt when improvising, like going to a sports bar and having to pretend I like sports—pretty soon I’ll give myself away as an impostor. Also, after complaining that back when I was on an improv team, my characters were always labeled “gay,” I decided last night to initiate a scene where I played a gay lumberjack. But I was fine considering how long it’s been. Fine.

On a totally different note, Kaveri and I went to Carnegie Hall on Sunday to see a performance of the Turangalîla-Symphonie by Messiaen. I had never been to Carnegie Hall before—it’s impressive. It looks exactly like a grand concert hall. When you close your eyes and think “concert hall,” you will think of Carnegie Hall, even if you’ve never been there. This is what we looked like, sitting in our box:

Turangalîla is something else. I had never heard it before. It’s exciting. There are lots of angular percussive parts. Some parts have a near-schmaltzy Romantic vibe. A lot of it is balls-to-the-wall madness. The piano is constantly banging away, often going against the grain of the main theme. Several themes repeat themselves again and again. The orchestra includes a crazy electronic instrument called the Ondes Martenot, which sounds like a Theremin (but you can also play it like a piano)—you hear it and think, “what the fuck was that?” There were also two people playing what sounded like toy pianos. And a vibraphone. And maracas.

Here’s the 1st movement:

here’s the 5th:

This past weekend, Kaveri and I flew out to Seattle for the Rawstock Film Festival. The organizers promised to partially pay for the trip, so I said “why the hell not?”

I had never been to the Pacific Northwest before and so, when I had to venture a guess, I imagined Seattle to be town of earnest flannel-wearers, constantly hiking up mountains, high on coffee. I couldn’t really square this image with the show Frasier, so I always decided not to think of the show Frasier when thinking of Seattle. To a lesser extent, I also decided not to think of Sleepless in Seattle.

The Rawstock Festival is a fun, scrappy festival of film shorts that happens about 4 times a year. And for the past year—starting with the “Mister Glasses” series—they’ve been showing stuff I’ve made. And now they were showing stuff Dyna and I (and Bill Buckendorf) had made—three episodes of the “Welcome to my Study” series. What is it with “Welcome to my Study”? People really go apeshit over it. It’s become a minor internet hit. Seattle was full of “Study” fans.

But more on that later; what was Seattle like?

From the little I saw of it, Seattle felt like the city that would emerge if New York and Northhampton, Massachusetts had a baby and that baby decided to live by a bay. It was far more cosmopolitan than I would have figured. The people we met (and maybe this was not a representative sample) seemed to all be done up in black cocktail dresses and suits.

our new Seattle friends

And just like in New York, there is the trend for “pre-prohibition” cocktails in the fancier hipster Seattle bars. So, we got to enjoy drinks that had egg whites in them. Which was fun.

The city has a very walkable downtown area surrounded by a bunch cute neighborhoods that are nearly impossible to get to using public transportation. And so we found ourselves quixotically riding the bus to a neighborhood called Ballard. And then cabing it to Capitol Hill. People of Seattle: invest in modern trolleys!

Ballard

From what I gather, most of Seattle was destroyed in the late 19th century. You can take a tour of the old buildings now buried  underground. They sit (I think) below the downtown neighborhood of Pioneer Square which is composed of cute late-Victorian brick and stone buildings in that “American Downtown Vernacular” that you see in a lot of Eastern cities.

What else…there are a few of great, deco department stores and a lot of soulless postmodern office towers from the 80s. Also, there’s the very cool Public Library designed by Rem Koolhaus Koolhaas, which looks like a crystal spaceship descended to earth. Kaveri and I spent a lot of time in that library walking the slowing sloping spiral of stacks. The interior of that building is amazing.

Seattle Public Library

There is also a huge working port.

And a market with amazing floral bouquets and tons of fish.

The Ace (with Kaveri)

We stayed at the Ace Hotel. The Ace Hotel answers the question, “what does a hipster do when he’s too old to stay in a youth hostel and too poor to stay in a nice hotel?” The rooms were breathtakingly small but they were painted white and outfitted with a stainless steel sink and an Eames rocker and ironic landscape wallpaper so it all seemed pretty cool to me and Kaveri. Also, the bathroom was in the hall. Like a youth hostel. But we liked it.

And again, people went absolutely apeshit over “Study”—huge laughs. And lots of people came up to me after the show and told me how much they liked it. So I was really touched. It was great. I have to thank the organizer of the event, the extremely nice Justin Freet, whose mom may have been the most devoted of all the “Study” fans that night.

And the event was sponsored by Bulleit Bourbon which is tasty.

I’m like James Brown—I’m begging you.

This weekend is the New York Television Festival (NYTVF) and my show, “Sexual Intercourse American Style” will be featured.

I loved working on this show. I loved writing for Will Hines and Julie Klausner and Matthieu Cornillon and Eliza Skinner. I stand by this show.

And so I invite all friends or non-friends alike—ignore the fierce pull of apathy and try to make it to one of the screenings. Do it for the Baby Birds. And if you mention “Sexual Intercourse American Style,” you’re guaranteed a seat!

Sexual Intercourse: American Style
New York Television Festival
Saturday the 13th, 2:15 pm
Sunday the 14th, 9:30 pm
New World Stages 340 West 50th Street (between 8th and 9th Aves.)
FREEE!!!!!

And come see the new “Mister Glasses” at the NYTVF’s special Channel 101 screening. Tuesday at 8:00 at the New World Stages. I’ll be on the panel for a discussion afterwards. Seriously.

As I write this, I am wired on tea. I’ve switched from coffee to tea because I exhausted my coffee supply and am too lazy to buy more. So tea it is. I thought tea had less caffeine—what gives? I feel very jittery.

Last week YouTube took down my video of “Mister Glasses,” episode # 5. They sent me a very stern warning via email—if I violate their rules of conduct once more, I’m out. Glancing at the list of most-watched videos on YouTube on any given day, you will notice that it’s composed primarily of women stripping down to their underwear and shaking their breasts—the type of soft-core porn that fills the masturbatory indexes of 14-year-old boys everywhere.

My video had a similar theme. It briefly showed a small, black-and-white photo of not-very-sexy bare breasts for about half a second in the service of a joke. Hot stuff. You can still watch it on the FunnyorDie site:

And if your appetite for comedy videos is still not sated, please watch the new episode of “Welcome to my Study” (on YouTube.) Written by and starring me, directed and edited by Dyna Moe, photographed by Bill Buckendorf:

Walk in any 20-block radius from where I live in Brooklyn and you will stumble upon 3 or 4 enormous turn-of-the-century theaters that have either been completely abandoned or converted into a church. It’s a weird experience, like walking through the ruins of some ancient civilization, or like coming upon the wreckage of the Statue of Liberty on the beach and realizing your ape-planet is actually Earth. Rome is like this.

The most staggeringly impressive of these theaters—and the one furthest away from me—is the Loew’s Kings Theater on Flatbush Ave. It really is mind-boggling. And there are a number of old theaters on that block that are nearly as impressive.

Looking at the interior shots of the Lowes Kings, I’m curious about what lies beyond the doors of this Greek-extravaganza of a theater near me on Easter Parkway:

The picture doesn’t do it justice—this place is enormous. And the weirdo “Greek” ceramic ornament is amazing.

If you walk down Bedford Avenue near Eastern Parkway you see a number of “repurposed” theaters.

Look at this one! The style of a building like this makes me think that it may have been built (unlike the Lowes) before the advent of movies. What played there? Vaudeville? Light Opera? Ibsen? Who knows?

Anyway, here’s a similarly fantastic theater a little bit further down on Bedford Avenue:

Most of these theaters were in operation until the early 70s when white people decided that they were terrified of black people moving in, so they skipped town. If white people hadn’t been such nervous nellys we’d have some amazing theaters in our neighborhood. White people!

Speaking of white people, it feels as though my neighborhood is going through a very rapid gentrification process that will eventually leave me priced out. I wish I had a job that paid more. White people!

“Swingtown,” the period drama from CBS, premiers in 2 days and the reviews are decidedly…mixed. Which is a shame because I have a lot invested in the “swinging couples” genre of TV shows.

“Swingtown” was created by Mike “The O.C.” Kelly and follows the adventures of an attractive couple that leaves their straight-laced friends behind, moving to an affluent suburb and taking up swinging and drugs.

Bloggy readers, you may remember I too had a show about swinging couples living in an affluent suburb. “Sexual Intercourse: American Style” premiered on the prestigious internet in 2006 and was seen and enjoyed by literally thousands of people. So don’t get so smug, CBS, ‘cause I got there first.

Actually, I’m a little nervous, because I just sent off “Sexual Intercourse: American Style” for consideration in the New York Television Festival, and I imagine the judges thinking, “why the hell did someone submit a ‘Swingtown’ parody?”

Oh well. For those who are fans of the show, I recently uploaded some outtakes of Curtis Gwinn and Dyna Moe from episode 5. Enjoy:

Right now I am sitting in an office. I have tried to avoid sitting in an office my whole life, but here I am — office bound.

I’m looking for a way out of this morass, oh Bloggy reader, and you can help! Come see my delightfully quirky show, “Mister Glasses” this Monday at the Lower East Side club, Pianos at 7:00 or 8:30pm! Perhaps a deep-pocketed producer will be there to swoop me up in his loving embrace!

If you need any more inpiration to get off yer butts, take a look at this amazing illustration Dyna Moe created of the principle “Mister Glasses” characters:

Cute, huh?

Come see my show!

My entire face and head are sunburnt.
Dyna Moe is sunburnt.
Ellie Kemper is sunburnt.
Paul Rondeau is sunburnt.

For some reason, I didn’t imagine this happening when I decided to film on the beach in April. It wasn’t particularly warm. The sun did not seem particularly bright. But here I am—my face feeling as though its been stung by a hundred wasps.

Have you seen my show “Mister Glasses”? It’s good, I think.

The next episode will prominently feature this Western Electric model 500 telephone:

It was designed by Henry Dreyfuss and released in 1949. When you think “rotary telephone” you think of this phone. This is the phone of your early childhood, but perhaps it was in beige or green, maybe with touch-tone buttons. AT&T was responsible for the upkeep of these phones. As I understand it, when you signed up for phone service, you were given one of these, but they were owned by the company. Strange. It explains why they’re so mind-bogglingly sturdy. Nothing today is designed like a model 500 telephone; it is a phone designed as if under a Communist regime, a phone where the makers were hoping it would never break down. Today we design phones to be thrown in the garbage.