Remembering Tom Lehrer

It's been a little while, hasn't it? I've been busy elsewhere, I'm afraid. This seemed the place, though, to mark the passing of one of the greats of twentieth century comedy.

It's hard to actually feel sad at the news of Thomas Andrew Lehrer's death, given that he'd reached the impressive age of 97. The feeling is more one of, oh well, it had to happen eventually. Lehrer himself seemed to have been preparing for his death for the last few years, having put all of his song - lyrics, music and recordings - in the public domain. You can still access and download everything here, although Lehrer did warn that it wouldn't be up forever.

I won't go on with a biography of Lehrer; you can find that in any number of places. I won't spend time on his first calling as a mathematician, his still secret operations in the NSA, or his alleged invention of the Jello shot. No, I'm here, of course, to talk about his songs. Endlessly quotable, raucously singable, bitingly satirical and frequently verging on the obscene, Lehrer's songs are perhaps the greatest comedic songs ever written.

I didn't really come to learn about and love Tom Lehrer until very late on. I knew the wonderfully nerdy "The Elements" from a young age, although I couldn't sing it then or now. It needs an update, of course, with the latest sixteen elements added on, which will need to be inserted as an earlier verse so that the classic final lines remain, rhyming "Harvard" with "discahvarred." "We Will All Go Together When We Go" is another well known song; so fun to sing yet so dark in content.

It wasn't until my partner Suzanne introduced me to Lehrer's greater catalogue of work that I fell for him. I don't think I've ever laughed as much at a song as I have at "I Got it From Agnes," the absolutely filthy but very carefully worded story of communal diseases. It stuns me that he got away with that in 1954, and it became our Covid-19 anthem. 

Jostling with "Agnes" for my favourite is the gleefully mrderous "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park," which we have localised to "Cyaniding Seagulls by the Shore." Not that our parks aren't full of pigeons, or, for that matter, seagulls. High positions, as well, for "The Love Song of the Physical Anthropologist" (perfect for any anthropoid) and "The Masochism Tango" (truly, a love song for every couple, throuple or otherwise). 

Shockingly, there has never been a film of Lehrer's life, and surely now one will finally be made. Although who could be found to play him? An actor tall enough, gangly enough, who can sing such well-crafted lyrics with such speed and only occasionally trip over his tongue will be hard to find.

Still as unhappily relevant now as ever, Lehrer's satire only bites harder for being delivered in song. As a farewell, let's have one of his less celebrated compositions: "Pollution."

The Divine Comedy - Office Politics Tour

It's been a good few years since I last saw Neil Hannon perform. Uninterested in going along to the Foreverland Tour in 2016 - the last album being, let's be honest, rather boring - I was excited to see the Divine Comedy again. It had been too long, and the new album was said to be something of a return to form. Office Politics sees Neil embrace the sillier side of his music again, crafting a concept album about work, life and technology, and indulging in a passion for synth pop; a genre he's always played with, but lately and suddenly pushed to the fore. Office Politcs, then, sees a bunch of styles thrown together in a way that shouldn't really work, but somehow does, united by a tongue-in-cheek pretentiousness. Which is exactly what the best DC albums always were.

The best album tours throw in a bunch of old favourites, of course, and so the Brighton Dome performance could only really start one way. It had to be "Europop," one of the band's first singles in its earliest iteration but here performed in its reworked electro version from 1993's Liberation. Sporting a pink suit which fit the atmosphere of Brighton better than it fit him, Neil performed in an office set with talented support. Playing with the set is a new approach based on the performances I've seen before, with Neil using the setting to tell a story of a working life from joining the company to the ritual discomfort of the office party.

Both singles from the album were of course featured: the catchy, privilege-poking "Queuejumper" and the adorable "Norman and Norma," the hit of the album for me. However, the songs that worked best live were the less celebrated ones from the album, particularly the tragicomic "Life and Soul of the Party," and its follow-up, the gorgeously 80s ballad "Feather in Your Cap." It was probably a mistake to perform the two pretentious hard-synth pieces in succession; after dragging through the sub-Kraftwerk "Synthesiser Service Centre Summer Super Sale," the audience weren't particularly in the mood for the more upbeat but still synth-heavy "Infernal Machines." However, the wistful "You'' Never Work in the This Town Again" and "I'm a Stranger Here" regain a lot of DC's classic charm and worked beautifully live.

Neil Hannon's other calling, of course, has been writing theme tunes for sitcoms, and his theme for the non-existent comedy series "Philip and Steve's Furniture Removal Company" is even more of a standout oddity live than on the album. It was the old favourites, though, that kept the atmosphere buoyant, with the obligatory but always beloved "National Express," "Something for the Weekend" and "Generation Sex" getting rousing renditions. I was pleased to hear several favourites from Absent Friends, including a heartfelt performance of the title song, probably the best single piece of the evening. "Commuter Love" and "Come Home, Billy Bird," fit so perfectly with Office Politics' themes that it would have been foolish not to include them.

Switching between new and classic material kept everyone happy, and we were crying out for the second encore.
Bowing out to "Songs of Love" and "Tonight We Fly," Neil steadfastly refused to sing "My Lovely Horse" from Father Ted. Well, it was worth requesting, that man in the audience. He has sung it before at gigs, after all - when I asked him.


All photos sneakily papped by my sister Rebecca Tessier.

REVIEW: The Greatest Showman

I finally caught the new musical movie The Greatest Showman, a film I've been eager to see since the trailers came out a few months ago. I'm a big fan of P.T Barnum's story - truly one of the greats of fringe culture and a historical legend. Already the subject of a musical (the 80s Barnum, which experienced a recent revival), Phineas Taylor B. was a philanthropist, a conman, an entrepreneur, and a showman. To be honest, there's not much of the real Barnum in Hugh Jackman's character here. He certainly wasn't that good-looking, for a start; his moral code, particularly when he was young, was far dodgier. Although we got a glimpse of the notorious conman who used to trick people into leaving his museum so he could charge them entry again, when he steals worthless deeds to act as collateral at the bank, the focus is squarely on the circus king aspect of his career. He didn't found the Barnum and Bailey Travelling Circus until he was in his sixties, although his Travelling Menagerie (read: freakshow) for which he is most famous, came much earlier. Again, though, this is barely part of the story - most of the story of the freaks is contained within his museum.

I doubt even half of the events shown in The Greatest Showman are true, but, really, isn't that in the spirit of the humbug that Barnum peddled? This isn't a historical drama, although a strict exploration of Barnum's life would make for a fine film. This is a big budget, extravagant, feel-good musical, and on those terms, it succeeds brilliantly. The songs are powerful and have been rattling round my head for days, from the opening "The Greatest Show" to the mighty freaks' anthem "This is Me." The costumes are gorgeous, the dance numbers are spectacular. Critics have called it "faux-inspiring" and "shallow," but hell, I left the cinema feeling amazing.

Hugh Jackman teams up with Zac Efron, who plays Carlyle, a character very loosely based on Barnum's partner, James Bailey, who acts as something of a grounding influence on him. Their boisterous duet is one of the sexiest things I've seen in a long time, and they have some good chemistry with each other. Probably more chemistry than Jackman has with Michelle Williams, who plays Barnum's wife Charity, who, incidentally, was far more adventurous and interesting a character than she's made out to be here. Again, though, this is not a film that's aiming for historical accuracy, as we see Barnum, a strict teetotaller and supporter of the temperance movement, knocking back drink after drink while chatting up Carlyle to become his theatrical partner.

The greatest show itself is made up of a huge gang of photogenic human oddities. Some of whom, like Caoife Coleman and Mishay Petronelli, who play the albino twins, have been cast for their dancing skills (and my god can they move - Mishay in particular I couldn't take my eyes off any time she was onscreen). Others, like Keala Settle, who plays Lettie Lutz the Bearded Lady, for their singing voices. Then there are a small few who actually have bodies that deviate from the human norm, such as young Australian actor Sam Humphrey, who plays the diminutive Tom Thumb. They all make up the most attractive bunch of "freaks" cinema has ever seen, so the message of tolerance against the different and deformed is kind of lost. Equally, there's an anti-racist message in there, with Carlyle striking up a taboo relationship with the mixed-race trapeze artist Anne Wheeler, in defiance of polite society's expectations of him, but it's fudged pretty badly. Huge respect to Zendaya, though, who learnt impressive acrobatic skills to play Wheeler. A big chunk of the film is given over to Barnum's tour with the Swedish soprano Jenny Lind, who in this version of events has an unlikely romantic infatuation with Barnum. Rebecca Ferguson plays the singer, who genuinely was as remarkable and philanthropic as she is portrayed here, but it's Loren Allred who provides her incredible voice.

The Greatest Showman is nonsense, then, but beautiful, exciting, heartfelt nonsense, that I enjoyed hugely, even if it wasn't the deepest or most believable film.