Showing posts with label Late show with David Letterman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Late show with David Letterman. Show all posts

Friday, June 7, 2013

When life gets you down, shout "Ray Charles!"

Ray Charles! No, for real. 

I can't remember the performer, and I can't find it online. Might've been Tom Jones.

But, in the early 80s, a musician performing on Late Night with David Letterman, shouted "Ray Charles" in the middle of a song, apropros of nothing (Note: years later, Taylor Hicks would shout "Soul Patrol" on American Idol to diminished returns).

Of course, Dave and Paul made light of it the next night and wondered aloud why more performers don't yell "Ray Charles" in the middle of songs.

A light went on in my teenage brain. "Why don't more people just yell Ray Charles in general?" I asked myself.

So, for the better part of a decade, I'd yell "Ray Charles" at concerts. In addition to just making you feel better when you do it, I discovered that different people react differently to the shout-out:

  • The first time I tried it was at Broadways, the former (and awesome) alternative bar in the Fort Garry Hotel. Canadian singer Dianne Heatherington was playing, and she said, "I love Ray Charles. And, you know, we should be playing some Ray Charles in our set." Success!
  • I shouted it again at Love and Rockets, and the normally sullen David J. perked up and played a couple of bass notes, which - I guess - was probably some bassline from a Ray Charles song that only he could recognize.  
  • Most artists would say something along the line of "Ray Charles is a musical genius" - sometimes with a little "you'd better not be making fun of him" edge for good measure. 
  • Jann Arden took the minimalist approach and said nothing. 

I wondered, "When I shout "Ray Charles," is it a tribute? Request? Ice breaker? Conversation starter? Joke? Comparison? Question? Dare? Bet? Challenge? Contest? Exhibition? Competition? Celebration?"

Of course, it was all of these things.

So, now when I'm in the classroom, at a bank, waiting for a light to change, or sitting in a darkened theatre during a quiet moment in the film, I yell, "Ray Charles!" and make the world a better place one shout-out at a time.

Monday, July 19, 2010

My favorite comic-book author and Letterman guest dies at 70


Dave and Harvey crash Live at Five with Roker and Cafferty.

It was a bad week for Cleveland: LeBron James moved to the heat and the Heat, and native son George Steinbrenner went to that big Yankee Stadium in the sky.

But, even worse, my favorite Cleveland underground comic writer, Letterman guest, and curmudgeon - Harvey Pekar - died from cancer at age 70.

American Splendor

In 1976, Pekar started writing comic books based on his life and job as a file clerk at the Cleveland VA Medical Center.

Pekar's American Splendor comics - the title is ironic! - are about working-class Cleveland and Pekar's mundane, regular-guy life: his paranoia, anger at the world, and himself.

I bought Pekar's comics as they came out at (the now-closed) Schinders in Minneapolis - one more reason to drive to the big city! - but for most people, the collection American Splendor: the Life and Times of Harvey Pekar is a good place to find out what's so great about the guy.


Pekar's graphic novel, Our Cancer Year, is his best self-contained work, chronicling his harrowing and depressing battle with cancer. To this day, I'm haunted by the panel where Pekar drops the groceries in the snow and can't pick them up - the sheer helplessness of it all.

For all of his self-disparagement, Pekar had a lot of success, the pinnacle of which was the great, Sundance-winning film American Splendor, starring Paul Giamatti as our anti-hero:


"Every American city is depressing in its own way."

Pekar also showed up in two of my all-time favorite Canadian documentaries, ridiculously unavailable online, the video store, or maybe anywhere - Vinyl and I, Curmudgeon. Pekar was an avid collector of jazz records and grumpy, which explains his appearance in both.

The Letterman years

Pekar first came to my attention in the 80s in his handful of appearances on Late Night with David Letterman, which are notable for Pekar's subversive rants - altogether missing from late-night talk shows today.

This one got Pekar banned from Late Night "for life." In the pre-September 11 world, Pekar made Letterman pray out loud for "a terrorist:"



The life ban didn't last long: Pekar appeared on Letterman's Late Show twice after his Late Night outburst, again accusing Letterman of being a shill for the man and having contempt for his audience.

Pekar told the LA Times:
"On some of the shows, I was doing a deliberate self-parody, and now there's a lot of people that think I'm some sort of maniac, you know? I'd rather be liked than thought of as a crazy man, but with Letterman, I've been in a situation where you either lay down and let him insult you or you do something about it. Most people keep their mouth shut and let him dump on them. I don't wanna do that."
Comic books, talk shows, and Cleveland will never be the same:

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Dear Leno'Brien: thanks for the memories!

Conan's pain is late-night TV's gain.

It doesn't matter whether you're on Team Coco, Big-Jawed Jay, or Carson Daly - just kidding, there's no such team! - for the first time in recent memory, late night matters again.

No more can talk-show guests simply tell stories about Robin Williams being "quite a prankster on the set," or say, "I have no idea what we're about to see" when they set up a clip. No, now they actually have to weigh in on their allegiance in the late-night wars, take a side, and have the courage of their convictions to defend it.

Sadly, it looks like things are beginning to wind down, though we can look forward to Conan's last show tomorrow night, the renewed Leno versus Letterman feud when Leno returns to the Tonight Show, and the return of Conan when he lands at another network and launches a new show (minus the masturbating bear).

And the great, national pastime will become a ratings watch, as we spend our time wishing, hoping, and praying that Leno has a major crash and burn, proving that NBC was wrong yet again.

As the dust clears, here are the winners and losers as I see them:

I. Winners:
  • Jimmy Kimmel


One of the greatest things I've ever seen on TV is Jimmy Kimmel slamming Leno on his own show, to the apparent horror of Leno and his audience.

And that was the day after Kimmel did the first part of his show as Leno himself, a scathing impression it was, complete with chin, lisp, and witless banter, Leno-style.

I didn't know that Kimmel had it in him, but he does, and now I'll watch his show forever.
  • Conan O'Brien


Before this whole mess, the general consensus among Conan fans was that his Tonight Show was pretty weak, and nowhere near the brilliance of his work on Late Night - a show on which I interned as a researcher in 1994.

I worked on Conan's show with Maggie Wright, daughter of then NBC President Robert Wright. Every day, she had another bad-news story about Conan's chances as host: "They've offered Late Night to Greg Kinnear," she told me one day.

Had Kinnear actually taken up NBC on the offer, Conan would've lost Late Night 15 years ago, and that would've been that.

But now, Conan's become a modern-day folk hero: the nice guy screwed over by "the man," solidifying Team Coco's brand loyalty and ensuring that he has a dedicated fan base for all time. Way to screw the pooch, NBC.
  • David Letterman


Revenge is a dish best served cold, and Letterman has served it up to Leno night after night after night, culminating in the above clip, where he mocks Leno's fake high fives with the audience, and accuses him of stealing his material, Howard Stern's material, and Howard Stern's announcer.

Letterman was in Conan's position 15 years ago, so he can relate - but, even better, Letterman is a performer who is funniest when he's angry, as Sarah Palin, John McCain, and now Leno know only too well.

Over the past two weeks, Letterman's sermons from the desk have grown more and more biting. On a recent show, he reminded his audience that Leno once hid in a closet to listen in on an NBC conference call. Later in the show, Kiefer Sutherland showed up in a dress, and made a joke about coming out of the closet "with Jay Leno."
  • Craig Ferguson


Just as funny as always! Sorry, Jay, this man - not you - has the funniest monologue on TV.


II. Losers:

  • Jay Leno


Only Jay would practice damage control by trying to position himself as a victim, which he's done with depressing regularity and ineptitude.

In the above clip, he reaches the lowest of the low, asking people not to blame Conan O'Brien. Uh...I don't think anyone was blaming Conan.

In the wake of the scandal, Conan's ratings have skyrocketed as Jay's brand has sunk to greater depths with each passing day. Now everyone can't wait for Jay to fail at the Tonight Show, which - let's hope - he will do as quickly as possible.

Get ready for a rocky return to the Tonight Show, complete with syrupy speech and waterworks from the guy who's used to people loving him and can't seem to understand why they've stopped.
  • Carson Daly
No one's ever really thought about Daly before this mess, and now they're only doing it to point out how no one cares about him one way or another.

His lack of impact on anything and anyone was parodied on last week's SNL and Letterman helpfully pointed out that the difference between not having a show and having Carson Daly's show is negligible at best:



Runner up for irrelevance: Jimmy Fallon, whoever that is.
  • NBC
The network that once had the Cosby Show, Seinfeld, Cheers, Friends, and invented must-see TV is now a sad shell of its former self.

NBC Universal CEO Jeff Zucker has become a household name for all the wrong reasons and NBC Universal Chairman of Sports (no kidding!) Dick Ebersol took the network from low-class to no-class, slamming Conan and Letterman at once as "chicken-hearted and gutless to blame a guy you couldn't beat in the ratings."
  • The Daily Show
So, let's say the biggest story in late night ever happened and Jon Stewart only mentioned it on his show once. That would be, like, totally lame, right?

Time was, we'd get "comedy" on the Daily Show. Now we get Stewart mugging at the camera and shouting in lieu of "punchlines."

I think Stephen Colbert is just the man to replace him. Wait a sec...do I smell a new late-night feud?

Let's sit back, relax, and watch the fireworks, shall we?

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Norm MacDonald's prescient warning to Conan O'Brien



Note: the above video seems to be fading in and out. You can see it at its source here.

Conan should've listened to Norm MacDonald when he appeared as a guest on Late Night with Conan O'Brien less than a year ago.

In the famous appearance, MacDonald tells Conan he's been "outfoxed again" by Jay Leno:
"Your agent's like...remember that discussion we had where you said "I'll never have to fucking follow Leno again?"
Uh, yeah, Conan remembers:



The recent announcement by NBC - that Leno will move to O'Brien's starting time to do a 30-minute show and Conan will be moved back half an hour to 11 - is hugely humiliating to Conan.

I don't think there's any way in hell that he'll stick around NBC, for these reasons:

1. FOX has already said the network would give O'Brien a show. O'Brien has already worked at FOX on the Simpson's.

2. ABC has no late night entertainment show at that hour and, in the past, has proved willing to move Nightline.

3. Conan idolizes David Letterman. When NBC screwed Letterman over, he went to CBS, where he's been successful for years. Inspiration for Conan!

Dear Bill Carter: please write a sequel to the Late Shift.

Update: I just noticed that Dave Shorr scooped me on this. Curse you, Dave Shorr!

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Two showbiz sagas of love, letdown, and Letterman

Showbiz is hard...

...and glamorous!

Is there no business like show business, or is "the biz" just a boulevard of broken dreams?

Depends on what book you read.

I spent the last 24 hours in la-la land, soaking up true, showbiz stories from two books: Letterman sidekick Paul Shaffer's "We'll be Here For the Rest of Our Lives," and former L.A. Times reporter William Knoedelseder's "I'm Dying Up Here."

The common link may be David Letterman, but the two books couldn't be more different in tone.

Shaffer's book is an idealized, romanticized version of showbiz, chronicling how a young kid from Thunder Bay became a big player in the Big Apple; Knoedelseder's book is about the underlying heartbreak that makes even the greatest showbiz success story bittersweet at best.

We'll be Here For the Rest of Our Lives

Shaffer's book is the easiest entry point for the Canadian reader. In the chapter "Blame Canada," he asks why so many brilliant comics are Canadian and comes up with this thesis:
"Canada is cold as hell. That means we stay inside and watch Canadian television. Watching Canadian television makes sane children crazy. The only alternative, of course, is American television. So if you take the factor of the freezing cold that keeps us inside and combine it with the less than thrilling nature of Canadian TV, you wind up with a nation hungry for truly funny comedy."
It's "that Canadian thing" that makes it easy to feel a kinship with Shaffer, and imbues his book with an entertaining and warm aura. True, the book doesn't have much of a narrative thread, but Shaffer's first goal is to entertain us with showbiz anecdotes, not to simply tell us his life story in the order that it happened. At that he succeeds.

Of course, it all starts for Shaffer in Thunder Bay, similar in climate and culture to Winnipeg, where he grows an appreciation for all things Vegas, New York, Hollywood, and showbiz.

He idolizes James Brown, Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack, Ray Charles, and the girl groups of the fifties, is obsessed with the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon and the Ed Sullivan Show, and even credits Winnipeg's the Guess Who for playing Thunder Bay and being "the ultimate cover band," playing Penny Lane better than the Beatles themselves:
"Lead singer Burton Cummings was so proud of his authentic Liverpudlian pronunciation of the word customer - "in Penny Lane the barber shaves another coostomer" - he'd say the word twice."
His description of his parents sounds something like a description of my parents, and maybe your parents too: the typical, suburban, middle-class Canadian family coping with the Canadian climate through "social drinking and its ensuing merriment," and living their lives "as they imagined Sinatra lived his."

It's in this familial backdrop that Shaffer learns to play the piano, memorizing songs to play at his parents' parties, and developing the shtick he does to this day as Letterman's sidekick: mocking show business at the same time he's celebrating it.

Shaffer isn't the deepest writer around, which he admits early on, but he's a lovable and amusing name dropper of the highest order, so we get lots of breezy showbiz anecdotes:
  • He meets Bob Dylan on Late Night with David Letterman, and - to his surprise - all Dylan cares about is getting the show's human mascot, Larry Bud Melman's, autograph.
  • Shaffer warms to Gilda Radner with whom he works on Saturday Night Live, and finds out that she's slept with Winnipeg-born magician Doug Henning, for whom Shaffer also provides piano accompaniment. In anger, Shaffer tells Radner the secrets behind every one of Henning's magic tricks.
  • He speaks of meeting his idol, Jerry Lewis with Richard Belzer. Turns out that Lewis is so obsessed with Law and Order: SVU - the stories, the camera angles, everything - he can't talk about anything else.
  • Shaffer comically takes the blame for Mel Gibson's famous "problems with the Jews," cutting into his leg with a pair of scissors - accidentally - on the Late Show.
Although Shaffer spends most of his time working on the Late Show, Letterman is a distant character in his book, so there aren't any revelations about Dave's backstage sexcapades, which is in keeping with Shaffer's always diplomatic tone - even convicted killer Phil Spector gets the star treatment from Shaffer, who says he still considers Spector a musical genius and friend.

Shaffer's book is a light and fun read that doesn't stick with you much longer than the time it takes to consume it - in my case, about three hours.

After reading the book, you're mostly left with the thought that Shaffer is a nice Canadian boy who hasn't forgotten his groovy homeland and is still having a swingin' time at the epicenter of showbiz.

I'm Dying Up Here

Knoedelseder's book, I'm Dying Up Here, takes place early in Letterman's career, the mid-1970s, when he, Jay Leno, Richard Lewis, Andy Kaufman, Tom Dreesen, Elayne Boosler, Robin Williams, and Richard Pryor took the L.A. comedy scene by a storm.

At first glance, the book appears to be fond recollections of the good and bad ol' days from today's established comics, which it is at first. Unlike Shaffer's book, however, Knoedelseder digs deep into the workings of that era's stand-up scene and finds plenty of dirt beneath the glitzy veneer.

As the book moves along, it morphs into the story of Mitzi "Paulie's mom" Shore's Comedy Store, which was the era's much-ballyhooed hot spot for new comedy talent: a young comic would show up from somewhere, audition for Shore, get stage time, be scouted for the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, do the gig, and become famous.

It didn't happen that way for everyone, but it happened often enough to ignite the dreams of would-be comics everywhere, who would risk everything to be the next Freddie Prinze or Jimmy Walker, two Comedy Store comics who had network sitcoms before they even turned 20.

The Comedy Store's system worked for awhile, but it was ultimately too good to be true. Shore thought of her club as a college, not a business, and refused to pay comics to perform, a fate all too common for stand-up comics.

So, the comedians formed a strike group called Comedians for Compensation and elected Dreesen as their leader. He comes off as the book's hero: a comedian who was willing to sideline his own career so that lesser known comedians could win the right to be paid.

It's here that battle lines are drawn - Letterman and Leno, among others, siding with the strikers and Garry Shandling and Yakov Smirnoff crossing the picket lines.

"I wish him all the success in the world," says Dreesen today of Shandling. "He's a funny guy and a good writer, but as a human being, as a man, I don't have any respect for him."

Ultimately, the comics win the right to be paid for their work, but not before a mysterious fire breaks out at the Improv, the Comedy Store's main competitor.

Even worse, a well-liked but troubled comic, Steve Lubetkin, kills himself by jumping off of a building with a note in his pocket that says, in part, "My name is Steve Lubetkin. I used to work at the Comedy Store. Maybe this will help to bring about fairness."

Lubetkin's suicide sends Richard Lewis into a 15-year bender, he's so wracked with guilt at having not been able to stop the tragedy. His comments about Lubetkin and stand-up are among the most insightful in the book:
"People in this business give too much power to to those who judge them, and it's so damn destructive. It keeps you from doing what you can do. The best way to deal with it is to work on your craft, surround yourself with good friends, be able to love people and get love back, and keep your fingers crossed."
This tragic tale provides the backdrop to some of the great successes of the era: Letterman's killer first night as guest host of the Tonight Show, Robin Williams' breakthrough on Mork & Mindy, and Andy Kaufman's starring role on Taxi, among them.

In the book's epilogue, Knoedelseder pulls off two minor coups, interviewing the publicity-shy Letterman (he agrees to talk at Dreesen's urging) and Mitzi Shore, "the Norma Desmond of comedy," according to the LA Times, and "the prisoner of her own memories," according to our author.

Ultimately, Knoedelseder's book is as gripping as Shaffer's is fun. For the ultimate true Hollywood story, read them both at one sitting.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

All hail the new king of late night


Grouchy and Grouchier: Howard Stern on Letterman.

It's been a perfect storm of perfect trouble for one Conan O'Brien.

It's only taken one week for David Letterman to beat him in the ratings: a 3.4 for Letterman on Tuesday versus a 2.9 for O'Brien.

O'Brien's ratings have steadily declined since his debut on the Tonight Show last week, and Stephen Colbert's much-heralded visit to Iraq has chipped away at his demographic: males, 18 to 34.

Then, Letterman hit Conan with the one-two punch of Howard Stern and Julia Roberts, introduced some new comedy bits (the guy who lives in the Ed Sullivan Theater, for one), and seemed altogether revived by the idea that he has a new competitor.

Stern has always been a Letterman fan, and was particularly harsh to NBC and Conan's predecessor, Jay Leno, on the Late Show, saying, "I never liked Jay. I can't stand Jay. I've never seen anybody who behaves like a robot like this guy. I watched his final show, saying goodbye to the 'Tonight Show,' reading it off a teleprompter for crying out loud. Where's the emotion? Where's the humanity?"

Today Letterman has signed a contract with CBS to broadcast through 2012. All hail the new king of late night!

Monday, June 1, 2009

Without Letterman, there's no'Brien


Letterman interviews Andy Kaufman on the David Letterman morning show, 1980.
Joaquin Phoenix was watching...


Tonight is all about Tonight. And Conan O'Brien hosting Tonight.

Let it be said that I think Conan will be a huge improvement over Leno. And that Conan can cut it in the earlier slot, and not bring ruin to the Tonight Show franchise. Cheers to Conan!

It's just that when it comes to my late night talk show hosts, I'm brand loyal to one David Letterman: he didn't invent the talk show format, but reinvented it into what it looks like now. Were it not for Letterman, there would be no Conan.

As I watched Leno's farewell to the Tonight Show last week, I was reminded of something that's been forgotten over the years: although Leno was always a better stand-up comic than Letterman (I saw Leno twice in Winnipeg - at the Playhouse and the Concert Hall - and he was great), Leno only started winning the ratings war when he lifted the format, style, and content David Letterman's Late Night and Late Show.

The New York Times' Maureen Dowd noticed as much in 1995:

"Letterman was king for 90 weeks before the dogged Leno pulled ahead by (lamely) aping Letterman bits, nabbing Hugh Grant and jumping on the O. J. case early."

Howard Stern has accused Leno of ripping off Letterman (and himself) for years. Here he calls Leno, "The lamest ass on the planet:"



Here's how New York Magazine sees the battle between Letterman and Leno:
"It felt like...an elaborate social experiment designed to measure, very precisely, some fundamental aspect of the American soul. On one side—Los Angeles, duty, convention, comfort, brightness, professionalism, and the friendly smirk. On the other—New York, rebellion, innovation, elitism, darkness, self-sabotage, and the scowl."
Now what?

Which raises the question: now that Letterman is up against O'Brien, not Leno, will anything change?

My guess is, yeah, it will.

As a guy who has quite possibly seen every Letterman show of all time, including Late Night and the NBC morning show in the early 80s (see above video), I've seen Letterman reinvent himself over and over, from his quintuple bypass recovery and dead serious Sept. 11 tribute to his angry rant against John McCain and now-classic interview with Joaquin Phoenix.

In many ways, O'Brien is, as New York Magazine calls him, a "mini-Letterman;" on his last night with Late Night, he thanked Letterman for “inventing this late-night show” and being “one of the most brilliant broadcasters certainly of the last century and this century and for all of time."

“Living in his (Letterman's) shadow has been a burden and an inspiration for me for years,” he said.

O'Brien's take on Leno? "I owe that man a great deal." Talk about damning with faint praise.

It didn't help O'Brien to have Norm MacDonald appear on his show recently and tell him he'd been "outfoxed again" by Jay Leno. "Your agent's like...remember that discussion we had where you said "I'll never have to fucking follow Leno again?"



With O'Brien doing a young version of his own show, I expect that Letterman will rise to the challenge by doing what he does best:

1. Interviews.

Letterman is the best late-night talk show interviewer there is - he never zones out like O'Brien sometimes does - and he's not afraid to stick it to goofballs like Bill O'Reilly and Spencer Pratt.

As well, when Letterman is interested in a subject, there's no better interview. Witness his recent interviews about the automobile industry with such exciting people as Bob Lutz. No, really.

2. Mining that grouchy temperament.

Letterman is moody and antisocial and doesn't aim to please, as O'Brien does. And he's funny doing it. Embrace the dark side, Dave!

3. Hitting the streets.

Letterman hasn't done as many "man on the streets" of late as he used to. He should.

Dave's a genius at "found comedy" - saying funny things as stuff happens - his hidden camera bits with Rupert Jee are legendary, and every time he talks to "regular folks," magic happens.

4. Being a tastemaker, not a follower.

Letterman should keep up the social commentary and get angry about the things that piss him off. As well, he should continue to do the serious interviews and I predict - as I always have - that he will one day be the host of Face the Nation. I'm only half joking.

5. Appearing on Conan's show and vice versa.

Bury the NBC vs. CBS hatchet. You both have a common enemy now: Jimmy Fallon.

6. Shooting the show in Canada once in awhile.

Conan's come to Canada. How about Dave?

In Dowd's 1995 article, Letterman expresses doubts about his value to an American audience:
"I was never satisfied that I was exactly what this country wanted and needed. What Canada needed maybe -- their expectations are not terribly high."
Couldn't have said it better myself. Dave, Winnipeg beckons.