Kevin Marshall's America » Art

The Panacea that failed: Michael Century on art, technology, and EMPAC

kevinmarshall — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 14:39:03 +0000

I usually spend my lunch eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and trying, in vain, to get some writing done. It almost always fails. I’m never in the right mindset for it, so I end up frstruated and I return to my office in an even more miserable state than I was before, trudging through stacks of unnecessary paperwork and cursing both the tasks at hand and their stifling of my creative output.

So when Daniel Nester called me yesterday and suggested I meet with him to attend a lecture by new media and music professor Michael Century at EMPAC‘s main theater, I jumped at the opportunity. It was the second in a series of three lectures exploring the relationship between technology and art, starting at the turn of the 20th Century and continuing into the present day. Yesterday’s lecture, “The Panacea That Failed,” covered the period starting with the post-war years and ending in 1974.

EMPAC’s website described the talk as one that “balances the celebratory heyday of art and technology against a rising tide of disillusionment and media-archelogocial irony.” It was grad school academia to a point of self-parody, particularly with Century’s nervous delivery and steadfast refusal to avert his eyes from his lecture, which rather than being outlined in notes was obviously written out in full and simply read aloud. Not that I fault him for it, since I imagine his workload is already heavy as it is without pseudo-intellectuals like me popping in during our lunch break.

The lecture spoke to the inherent trials and tribulations associated with this relationship and for EMPAC’s visiting and resident artists. Linking the two is a wonderful idea in theory: making the artist more practical and the mechanical more human. On the surface it makes perfect sense. We cannot have art without science and technology, nor can science and technology expand and evolve without some inclination towards creativity. But to treat the two as potentially equal partners in a project is a fool’s errand, particularly when you try to put the emphasis on technology and expect the end result will somehow lean towards art. It’s a misguided attempt to legitimize one field in the eyes of the other by appealing (pandering?) to the latter’s sensibilities. More often than not, it results in experiments that become something resembling clumsy stunts, briefly intriguing but not much else. At least, this has always been my belief and observation.

Call it confirmed bias, but I felt it was reinforced by Century’s presentation. He discussed and showed the work of artists like John Cage, who at one point abandoned control as his method and sought to fully automate the process of composing music. Footage from this period shows fellow artists and cultural icons looking on as Cage performs this work. Joyce Carol Oates is seen looking unimpressed to a hostile degree. I look over to the sound engineer, sitting three rows in front of us, and he is removing tags of himself on a Facebook picture that identifies some unknown person’s allegedly best friends. Then, as Nester leans in to ask if that is indeed Oates who looks so terribly unhappy with the results, I feel something on the tip of my index finger and realize the pen he loaned me has bled open and deposited royal blue ink all over my index and middle fingers. Eventually all technology fails the creative mind, whether it be on the cutting edge of science or the rudimentary tools we take for granted. One must always be prepared to improvise. The engineer maintained the cleanliness of his profile by removing himself from the clumsy digital collage. I was able to retrieve a pen buried deep in my bag that I had forgotten about. Cage abandoned the attempt to divorce control and re-married the compositions that brought him his greatest success. And there we were, in different rows and eras, back in control of our own output to the world.

The idea of putting emphasis on the influence of technology on the artistic process is a consistent theme at EMPAC that’s admirable but nigh self-defeating. My reaction to the vast majority of performances and exhibits at the facility are that the ideas are art, and perhaps to a greater extent the process that the artist(s) undergo can be considered art. The end result, however, usually is not. Naturally we can get lost in a circular argument and debate the merits of deciding what is and isn’t art. But taken on their own, without the context of process and intent, many of the works say nothing. They may incoroporate mechanical components, but most fail to move the audience in any meaningful way. The irony, or perhaps it’s more apt to call it a cruel joke, is that the artist should recognize and identify with such a beautifully self-destructive process and self-fulfilling prophecy.

As I take notes on the sad but noble efforts, Century touches on another project where 75 artists were commissioned by industrial firms to create cutting edge exhibits. Only 15 of them were deemed good enough to be displayed to the public.

When Century broaches the realm of computer animation, the crowd in the theater shifts in their seats. With the passing and subsequent (and at times truly baffling) deification of Steve Jobs still fresh in their minds, thoughts turn to Pixar. Century tells us about early pioneers like John Whitney, who re-purposed military technology to create film animation, and the groundbreaking but tyrannically post-modern theory of Ivan Sutherland, who strove to develop a system wherein eventually one could simply push a script in and the computers would do the rest. My thoughts throughout turn to a conclusion Pixar themselves reached in the development of their breakthrough film “Toy Story” and continue to preach to their employees and the public at large: that above the slick renderings, it is the creative minds within the organization and the fierce adherence to integrity of its artistic direction that has been the key to its success. The devaluing of human input and the “aesthetic virtue” as Century coined it – humanizing technology to alleviate Cold War anxieties over a loss of control and influence on the world around us – was doomed from the beginning.

Glenn Gould

The third act of the talk focuses on Glenn Gould, the legendary Canadian classical pianist who specialized in Bach and whose contempt for most piano music composed in the Romantic period was matched only by that of the live audience. He theorized, amongst other things, that live performance in a concert hall had not only become antiquated but was stagnating creativity and inhibiting the emotional relationship an audience has with a piece. It was his belief that music was moving away from live performance and towards personal absorption through media.

Nearly thirty years after his untimely death, that last part has been strangely prophetic. The number of acts that can legitimately sell out large venues is dwindling, with those that can relegated to nostalgia acts marketed towards an older audience that hasn’t caught on to 21st century technology or maintains their own anxieties about mp3s and music players. For modern acts, larger venues can’t be filled because most people can’t fill their iPods with enough mp3s. There are other factors at play, including but not limited to an increasingly micro-managed method of socialization through status updates and posts of 140 characters or less. The point is that it may not have personalized the experience in the way Gould envisioned, but it has at the very least isolated it.

But he was right for the wrong reasons. The most glaring counterpoint to his argument isn’t presented through words but rather a video of Gould himself playing piano in the studio. As he performs, he moves his head with manic intent and opens and closes his mouth to the rhythm in an uncontrollable tick. The output moves him, and I feel him through the film some thirty-seven years later. It is infinitely more unique and fascinating than the music he’s performing. It is this aspect of performance that Gould tragically overlooked. He thought of music in singular terms of auditory reception as the only means of achieving an emotional connection with an audience. His ideas about the medium were not theory, but rather a symptom of social anxiety. And what a damn shame it was based on what little I saw.

Gould’s words made me think of our more contemporary attempts to marry technology and art, and how it often betrays a misunderstanding of what art is and can be. The focus cannot be on the tools provided by the sciences and technology. The moment an artist does this, s/he betrays the art itself and weighs the work down with something cold, distant, and unmoving. It instills in me a greater respect for the uphill battle artists at EMPAC face, but it also gives me a greater understanding of why so many events at the facility have trouble attracting an audience.

The penultimate clip of the lecture was a segment from a documentary where Gould spoke with the great Canadian thinker Marshall McLuhan in 1974. As they discuss Gould’s idea of eliminating concert hall performances, McLuhan becomes dismayed. He asks him, defending what he views as the strength and value of the human experience, what would become of human beings if they stopped climbing mountains and instead were content to watch film of others accomplishing the feat. Gould’s unsympathetic and puzzled response is that it would be worth celebrating that we climbed the mountain at all.

McLuhan responds with a loud gasp and looks at Gould with heavy eyes that I could have sworn were welling up with sympathetic tears.

“Oh, Glenn,” he says as he trails. I read his reaction as two things. One is a realization that, as stated earlier, Gould’s response is more reflective of his own innate sadness and inability to overcome his personal demons. But I also think it’s possible, in that moment, that McLuhan felt a pinge of the fear that this prophecy may, at least in part, be fulfilled in the years to come.

It would be unfair and inaccurate to describe EMPAC as Glenn Gould’s dream or Marshall McLuhan’s nightmare, but it does speak to the precarious nature of this unique facility and the tiny human dots that litter its vast landscape. It can help us to accomplish some truly wonderful things, but it is just as easy for the artist to become completely lost in it.

Bonus Troy Night Out this Friday, October 14th

kevinmarshall — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 13:15:54 +0000

A bonus Troy Night Out will occur this Friday, October 14th in conjunction with the MoHu Arts Festival.

Highlights include a live performance by Ben Karis-Nix in his own space at Design It Together, a performance by Capital Rep of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Telltale Heart” in the Arts Center’s Black Box theater at 6:30pm and 8:00pm, and much more. Also, make sure you stop into Anchor No. 5 and holler at Kevin Marshall’s American reader (and store owner) Petra. She’s got some cool shit there. No joke.

Not to mention, of course, more art than you can shake a stick at. But why would you shake a stick at it? It’s art. Don’t shake your stick at art. C’mon.

The full list is here.

Don’t forget that our regularly scheduled Troy Night Out (last Friday of every month sans December) is still on as well for October 28th. That one has a ton of events as well, including the highlight I’m personally looking forward to: Pulitzer Prize winner William Kennedy at Market Place Books for his new novel Chango’s Beads and Two-Tone Shoes. I’m about halfway through and it’s engrossing and gorgeously written.

Exclusive: Restoration Festival 2 is coming August 27th and 28th

kevinmarshall — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 12:00:33 +0000

Matt Ferguson of Beware! the Other Head of Science performs during Day One of the 2010 Restoration Festival. Rest Fest will return this September.

In a recent comment on this blog, Alex Muro (he of the Hobo Banned & the B3nson Family) announced that the Restoration Festival at St. Joseph’s Church in Albany will make a return engagement on September 10th & 11th August 27th and 28th (please note the change in date !).

Last year’s festival featured over a dozen bands including Sgt. Dunbar & the Hobo Banned, Restys, Beware! the Other Head of Science, Matthew Carefully, Swamp Baby, We Are Jeneric, the Scientific Maps, Alta Mira, Railbird and more.

The festival will once again be used to raise funds for the repair and restoration of St. Joseph’s Church at 38 Ten Broeck.

No lineup has been announced, but Alex said more information would be available later this month through the festival’s official website at RestFest.net.

After the jump: some pictures of last year’s festival courtesy the event’s official Facebook page.

click to enlarge

Having a conversation with Steve Martin

kevinmarshall — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 17:51:39 +0000

Steve Martin, shown here in a publicity shot for his 2010 novel wearing one of the most awful pair of eyeglass frames I have ever seen.

Last night was “A Conversation with Steve Martin” at the Palace in Albany, though for some it was more of an opportunity to clap for catchphrases and ask some of the most confounding questions this side of “if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?”

Martin, who has been a stand-up comedian, movie star, screenwriter, playwright, novelist, musician, and everything in-between, came to discuss his career as an artist and his numerous ventures and forays. He also has a new novel out, An Object of Beauty, which has been well received by most outlets (including the New York Times).

Unfortunately, if you were there last night, you would not have known this book even existed. In fact, you would not have known that Martin was a novelist at all if not for a question from a friend of mine in the audience – Sally Block – who asked him about his decision to take the role of the male lead in the film adaptation of his novella Shop Girl. Instead, the focus was placed on his early comedy (despite Martin’s repeated assertions that he’s been finished with stand-up comedy since 1983) and on his memoir of that period, Born Standing Up.

Part of the reason is that the moderator, WAMC‘s “Roundtable” host Joe Donahue, made no secret of the fact that he was an unashamed fanboy. He practically bounced onto the stage at the beginning of the evening, awkwardly stumbling through bad jokes in an attempt to establish himself as worthy of being in the presence of his image of Martin. He then shared his love of Martin’s comedy work, which made clear from the onset where Donahue would steer the rest of the conversation.

The other reason for the manner in which the evening played out likely has to do with the controversy surrounding Martin’s talk at the 92nd Street Y in Manhattan last November. Martin appeared to talk about his book and, after going into an in-depth discussion with the moderator about the New York art world (the setting of the novel), was given a note asking if talk could turn to his earlier work on shows such as “Saturday Night Live” because some members of the crowd had become restless. Martin was obviously perturbed; even more so when the Y refunded money to patrons who bought tickets to a literary discussion and complained that he didn’t walk out with a fake arrow through his head while yelling out “excuuuuuuuuuuse me!”

Such is the blessing and the curse of being Steve Martin. To call him an artist is to minimize how much work he’s put into so many different mediums. As mentioned earlier, he’s garnered acclaim for virtually every venture he’s embarked upon, which is a testament both to his natural brilliance and a work ethic that would be intimidating were he not so blaise and humble about it. A problem arises, however, when faced with a contemporary 21st Century audience that compartmentalizes its entertainment. In their minds, Martin fits into a very small pocket of their childhood memories, and if he deigns to venture outside of it they react with either sarcastic indifference or outright hostility. That’s exactly what happened at the Y, and it is unfortunately what may have happened last night at the Palace had the event taken a different course: one that it should have taken for Martin’s sake, but didn’t for the audience’s.

As a result, no books were mentioned other than Martin’s Born Standing Up; much to his chagrin, as he attempted to give Donahue numerous subtle hints to mention his other works (each time Donahue said “in your book,” Martin would reply with “which one?”). Unfortunately, subtlety doesn’t appear to be Donahue’s strong suit in this sort of environment. Martin’s work as a playwright was given even less time, as I can’t recall it given anything more than a literal brief mention during Martin’s introduction.

After less than ninety minutes, microphones were passed to the audience for a Question and Answer period. Some of the questions were appreciative enough, but some ranged from embarrassing to downright baffling. One audience member asked, verbatim, “if you could do a one man show, who would it be and why?” Martin’s response was the same as mine, as we both responded with a simultaneous “…what?” The audience member helpfully explained, after the fact, that he meant the sort of thing where someone does a one-man show in the role of another character, a la Hal Holbrook’s Mark Twain Tonight. It did provide for an amusing moment, however, when after explaining that he wouldn’t have interest in such a thing because his strength was never in doing voices or impressions, he thanked the audience member for his question “which,” Martin added, “quite frankly, was just okay.”

Later in the evening, another woman rambled for several minutes and was interrupted (wisely) by an interesting anecdote that Martin was able to pull out of the ether. After her setup came the question “what was the first song you played on the banjo?”

Yet another asked him to assist in reveling in a false sense of superiority over pop culture, a request which Martin sternly refused.

“There are plenty of critics for that,” Martin said. “I don’t think artists should be in the business of criticizing other artists.”

An appreciative portion of the crowd applauded.

There were other frustrating moments, to be sure, but on the whole it was fascinating to hear Martin talk of things like craft and creativity. His description of the difference between the process of writing films and writing novels, the nigh impossible task of writing a “funny novel” in the sense we apply to screenplays (my roommate and fellow writer Stephen Henel rightfully pointed out that only a handful of folks such as Terry Pratchett have been able to approach anything resembling an accomplishment in this area), and other forays into areas other than what was intended were enthralling.

Moreover, even in the most awkward of moments, his reactions came across as nothing less than genuine, which is why an event such as this works well with someone like Martin. With others it would have devolved into a shallow celebration of times past. Martin, on the other hand, has such an earnestness and likability to everything he does that even a subtle jab at a question came across as kindhearted and sincere. It also helps that the man is a genius, and in the way that is intended rather than the manner it is so haphazardly applied in today’s environment of instant gratification with no concern for context or artistic value.

“A Conversation with Steve Martin” simply isn’t enough. A hundred might not be. I am thankful, however, for the one hundred and twenty minutes he spent in our city, and I am glad that we showed him a greater kindness and appreciation than other locales such as the infamous 92nd Street Y.

In short: Steve Martin, you’re welcome, you magnificent bastard.

Grave Surfing with Beware!’s Richard Mark Nolan

kevinmarshall — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 14:15:14 +0000

It’s easy to dismiss the notion of combining early 60s surf rock with borderline goth 80s alternative. The tone and tenor of their arrangements and lyrics lie on opposite ends of the spectrum, with the bouncy careless fun of surf music in direct opposition to the nihilist ruminations of alternative rock.

There’s also an inequity in regards to the respect given to the two respectively. Surf rock often gets dismissed because of its name, which invokes what people outside the lifestyle view as a trivial past-time. Timing is also a factor, as the genre seemed to crest (har har) right as the double whammy of the British invasion and the emergence of the drug culture knocked the American music scene on its ass.

However, its influence is undeniable. The Beach Boys, not surfers themselves, none the less used the genre to create some of the best American music of the 20^th Century and push the genre to its limits. Surf can also be heard in everything from the Johnny Mar arrangements on Smiths records to heavy metal guitar solos.

It doesn’t make it a natural fit, but it does make it feasible.

Richard Mark Nolan has somehow managed to make this concept work with his new project, The Grave Surfers. Spurred by the RPM Challenge (which encourages musicians to write and record a 10 track or 35 minute LP during the month of February), the result was “Necromomicon Phenomenon,” a tongue in cheek exploration of the aforementioned concept that’s both engaging and delightfully disruptive.

There’s a concession in its execution that the idea might not work, but the charm of it lies not in that, but in the fact that despite its own self-deprecation…well, it actually does work. It works really, really well. Tracks like “Sid and Necromancy” bounce with a fun, catchy chorus, extolling the virtues of both surfing and nihilism. Intentionally ridiculous, a bit funny, but also philosophically interesting: “We don’t want nothing, the end is coming soon, when there’s nothing, all I want’s to surf with you.” Because if nothing matters to the nihilist, why not just say “screw it” and surf?

Listen and/or purchase the album at http://thegravesurfers.bandcamp.com/.

You can also see Rich perform with Beware! the Other Head of Science TONIGHT (Friday, March 25^th) at the Troy Bike Rescue on 3^rd Street in Troy with Sleeping in the Aviary and Bear Grass. The show kicks off at 8:00pm; suggested donation is $5.

I got the chance to talk to Rich about the project to discuss his motivation, ideas, and thoughts on not only the new project but on his musical influences in general and work with Beware! the Other Head of Science.

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How would you describe the concept?
Richard Mark Nolan: “My goal was to create a new sound using two familiar elements. It was my hope that the mash-up would not only be coherent but also intriguing. I really enjoy surf ballads from the 50s and I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t. I wanted to take the ballads and give them an edge and a story. I aimed pair it with 80s alternative punk. I felt the vocals from that era were heavy and pretty enough to be placed in any 50s ballad. Once I had the sound the story manifested itself as a result of the tone.”

Who are The Grave Surfers?
RMN: “The Grave Surfers are the founding fathers of the Necronomicon Phenomenon. Their brand of selective nihilism became wildly popular pushing them to heavily contested cult status. Little is known about the exact origin of the craze and within its ranks it is frowned to question it. The nameless leader of the band was affected by a traumatic experience causing a social revolution. Once his idea of death and surfing spread the band was formed and took credit for the movement.”

What inspired this?
RMN: “I have a large un-mastered cassette collection of the 50s and 60s. The tapes have been part of my life since I lived with my parents. There has been a resurgence of surf rock lately and I couldn’t get it out of my head. The voice I use on the album was piloted on some past recordings I made, this is the first full length using that timbre. I’ve been compared to the Cure and Beirut in the past and I wanted to take that and give it a stronger sound, aiming for the Smiths or Nick Cave. With combing the two genres I wanted to tug at your heart strings, make you dance, make you laugh and occasional catch a loaded phrase.”

The vocals seem equal parts the artists you mentioned, but also a bit Vincent Price and Micah P. Hinson. Which I mean as a compliment. Is that the intent, or is that your natural singing voice?
RMN: “I don’t think I have a natural singing voice. If I do this is not it. I think it would be a better compliment if I knew who they were, sans the laughter in a Michael Jackson song. This voice is probably the result of putting at least one Frank Sinatra song on every mix tape I make.”

Were you always a fan of surf rock? I always thought I heard some elements of it in “Beware!”.
RMN: “I tried forming a Surf Rock band with some friends back in the day. Jesse Horton, the bassist in “Beware!”, made it to not only one, but BOTH Surf Band practices. It featured my friends Heather and Jesse B as well… it was great, probably the best band I’ve ever been in. “Beware” is a hodgepodge of everything, it certainly could have sounded like surf. I have always been a fan of Surf Rock. Their guitar riffs are some of the most cheerful and catchy sounds in pop music. Surf Rock is also home to some of the lightest and heaviest handed lyrics. It can be heartfelt or carefree or both.”

One of the things I like about The Grave Surfers is that while it’s a fun concept, it never becomes just a novelty act; there’s some really fascinating and catchy stuff going on. I’d say the same about “Beware!” as well, in the sense that you have a lot of geekstuff (my scientific term for it) but don’t get caught in that trap of becoming a gimmicky novelty act. Is there a conscious effort to find that balance, and if so, how do you find it?
RMN: “I was under the impression we were gimmicky. But, I suppose behind all those lights, synthesizers, guitars, and beards there is a deeper meaning. With “Beware!” it certainly isn’t found in the lyrics. If you try hard enough you can hear it in the music. No idea is ever abandoned. We have been writing music together for a long time and it has been a tug of war. The end result usually does not present us with a clear winner. Each individual exploration is still intact and layered into the final cut. As musicians we all have an idea of how we want the song to sound but as a band there is no consensus. I am grateful for fans that get that and enjoy it. With the Grave Surfers, it is intentionally gimmicky. I am able to balance it out by having a silly story with profound lyrics. The music is coherent enough and could stand on its own. If another artist took the music they would have no problem writing lyrics that didn’t involve nihilism and surfing. They would probably write about girls or drugs or fast cars or cell phones or facebook… or whatever you people like. On the flip side you could get away with using lines from the songs in standard pop music. It is a fun edge to tip toe on and I look forward to pursuing this project and hearing feedback.”

What do we need to know about the Necronomicon phenomenon?
RMN: “These things come in waves.”

What do you want to say to my readers, who I have just decided will now be referred to as Kevin Marshall’s Americans?
RMN: “ATTN: KEVIN MARSHALL’S AMERICANS! First off, thank you for reading this blog. Second off, thanks to Kevin for publishing this blog. Thirdly off, what are you doing? That seems like a fair question, right? You thought you knew, didn’t you? But now you are second guessing yourself. You can’t decide now. Sure, laugh it off. But really, you can’t. If you did, you would have stopped reading by now and gone and done it. Now you have something to prove. You’re going to beat this challenge, you’re almost ready to go do it. Just have to finish a few more things and then, boom, going to get it done. What was it again? Oh right. But you have to go do this other thing first… right? You can’t forget about that one, that one is important. Make sure you do things in order now. Order… order… you were supposed to order something, right? Maybe for a birthday… going away present… can’t remember, can you? Snap out of it. Of course you remember. Head over to hopefulbear.com and pick up the Grave Surfers album! Each copy is numbered and hand crafted by myself and a lovely tattooed lady. Thanks for reading Americans!”

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Richard performs with Beware! the Other Head of Science tonight (Friday, March 25^th) as part of Troy Night Out at the Troy Bike Rescue on 3^rd Street in Troy with Sleeping in the Aviary and Bear Grass.

The Grave Surfers LP can be purchased here.

Steve Martin: a man for all reasons

kevinmarshall — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 13:21:49 +0000

If you haven’t already, you can still enter to win two tickets to see “A Conversation with Steve Martin” at The Palace Theater. The contest ends tonight at 11:59pm! Get crackin’!

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Image via Wikipedia

Earlier in the week I wrote of my early appreciation of and exposure to Steve Martin through Saturday Night Live. Another early attachment I have to Martin is through the film “Three Amigos.” The film was an early favorite and bonding moment for my father and I, and continued to serve as a barometer for those with whom I would develop the closest friendships (including friends like Eric and my roommate Steve). I find that if someone likes the film “Three Amigos,” I’m more or less guaranteed to like them.

But it’s not just his film or even his comedic roles that is at the root of my admiration. It is his body of work as a whole. It’s his range as an artist, and the fact that his range does not effect the quality of his work. Martin is not a celebrity who dabbles in different projects with middling (or lesser) results. He’s a legendary comedian, a good director, a wildly entertaining playwright, a fascinating playwright, an engaging orator, and so on and so forth.

He didn’t have to extend himself in the ways that he has through his career, and he certainly isn’t one of those that comes across as pushing his work on the basis that he’s a celebrity. Rather, he does it because he is compelled to do so artistically. That’s something I identify with; not in the sense that I think any of the output I have or will generate is at or neat the quality of his work, but that there’s nothing wrong in doing the things that you want to do and not being afraid to branch out past the expectations of those around you.

That’s why I consider him one of the few people that I’d liken to a role model that continues to push me to do different and varied things.

Which is why I plan on being in attendance on March 30th. I want to hear this man talk about his art, and his continued art. I want to get an insight into what his creative process is and what gives him the right to be a wild and crazy guy and a mad scientist and write two very well received novels and tell the story of a chance meeting between Picasso and Einstein at the Lapin Agile. I want to thank him for showing me that one can be both thoughtful at times and silly at others, and embrace both aspects of life.

Then I want to ask him “what the Hell is that?”

Steve Martin’s first impression

kevinmarshall — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 15:00:36 +0000

If you haven’t already, you can still enter to win two tickets to see “A Conversation with Steve Martin” at The Palace Theater. Contest runs through Thursday at 11:59pm.

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Image via Wikipedia

I was a big fan of comedy growing up, and in particular the old Saturday Night Live episodes that used to air on Nick at Nite. Of all the talent that was on that early cast, my favorite cast member was always Steve Martin.

You read that correctly and yes, I was mistaken.

Martin hosted Saturday Night Live on occasion, but was never actually a part of the cast. It just seemed that way because he was such a vibrant and electric personality that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the early cast.

One gets the impression from watching those early years that the cast members know they’re onto something big. The backstage stories that later leaked out through interviews, anecdotes, and memoirs showed on the stage; they were comic rock stars, the whole lot of them. Steve Martin was different. He seemed to be genuinely having fun, regardless of who was on stage or what the material was. As a result, he stuck out like a sore thumb; a tall, white-haired figure who shot exuberance out of his fingertips.

It wasn’t until I was almost in my teens that I found out Martin was only a host and not a cast member. I had seen every episode and memorized so many skits by heart. How could I have operated under such a wildly incorrect assumption? I checked back thinking maybe – just maybe – Martin had hosted and appeared with such frequency that he might as well have been a cast member. To my surprise, he was a frequent host but still in those early years only appeared a half dozen times. Though he would go on over the course of the next two decades to host the program a record fifteen times, the fact that he was only a semi-frequent host rather than a regular cast member was surprising.

Martin with Dan Akroyd, seen above trying to convince Martin that 9/11 was an inside job.

The reason I thought he was a permanent cast member is because I wanted him so badly to be one. When watching those old episodes now, many of the bits don’t hold water. Some jokes are so hyper-relevant they dated themselves the morning after they aired, while others seemed so inside you could almost hear the audience faking their way through a skit, hoping the others around them will think they’re in on the joke and this special thing occurring onstage that they didn’t quite understand.

Martin was different. He brought with him a weighty charisma and enthusiasm that put him leaps and bounds above his contemporaries. I always imagined watching Martin perform must be the closest thing we can approximate to the experience of seeing those old Vaudeville performers that gave it their all in front of an audience, which would look desperate were it not for the fact that it worked and, more importantly, a complete lack of self-consciousness.

That’s what made Martin truly special to me. Murray, Chase, Belushi and others didn’t want you to know they were performing. Martin knew you knew, but it didn’t matter. As the youngest of five children who was desperate for acceptance and trying to carve out an identity for himself, I latched onto Martin’s performances and he became an early and lifelong favorite.

I still remained an SNL fan through the years, and that original cast and writing staff contianed some truly gifted minds. But as great as those old episodes of Saturday Night Live were, imagine if instead they had ten or twelve Steve Martins performing every weekend. Now that would be something worth staying up for.