Victoria Nangle caught up with Phill Jupitus to talk about his upcoming podcast, impro and Billy Bragg
Phill Jupitus is busy writing a book, but he can’t tell us what it’s about. “I don‘t know if I‘m allowed to say.” He laughs apologetically. Is it fiction? “No, no, it‘s not. That‘s as far as I can go.” He pauses. “And it‘s not really about me either. Yeah, yeah. I can say that much.” He seems pleased. But now to his new one-off music, film and comedy night at the Duke Of York’s with his old BBC 6 buddy Phil Wilding.
Can you outline the format of the evening?
Yeah. Basically, Phil and I were approached by Jon at the Duke of York‘s, who had been listening to the podcasts that we do called Phill and Phil’s Perfect Ten. We were talking about doing it in front of an audience. The format of the podcast – I‘ve got to tell you (chuckles). It‘s interesting, you know, to be involved in comedy, having been on television and radio to then to go to a format where there is pretty much no editorial constraint over what you can and can‘t say. Obviously you sail within legal parameters. But we can say pretty much what we want. It‘s the closest thing to what I would chat about in a pub as anything. It‘s very different from anything I‘ve done before. I started in poetry, that was very structured and very constrained but wonderful to do. I‘ve been an illustrator, that‘s expression in one way. I‘ve been a stand-up comic for years, I do improvised comedy as well – what’s the other thing I do? I never bloody remember.
“It’s interesting to go to a format where there is pretty much no editorial constraint ”
Blockheads? (Phill sometimes fronts The Blockheads)
Oh yeah, singing with bands and stuff. There‘s plenty of outlets. But this is the one that kind of makes me the most nervous because it‘s quite unvarnished. (chuckles). Very little thought goes into it. It‘s quite immediate as well, which is what I like. We set ourselves up with a half an hour set to a very rigid digital clock, and then we have to talk about ten things. The subjects are sent in by the people who listen to the podcasts or we generate questions ourselves, but we don‘t know what order they‘re coming out in. It‘s going to be quite a multimedia evening. Quite a busy night out for those who do the whole run of it. We do a Perfect Ten. Then we show Anchorman. Then we do another Perfect Ten. Then that‘s the end of the evening. And then we will be DJing in the bar outside the cinema til half one in the morning.
What advice would you give to improvisers and comics?
Hmmm. The advice I‘d give is that you’re not allowed to look for an agent until you‘ve been doing what you‘re doing for five years. Seriously, do it on your own until you desperately need an agent. I‘m appalled that there are kids in Edinburgh that haven‘t done ten gigs that are looking for agents. Learn to do what you do first. This doesn‘t apply to the improvisers, just the stand-ups – don‘t ask the audience questions. Stand-ups should not ask questions of an audience. And young stand-ups should just tell an audience things. What happens is the young stand-up says – so, is there anyone in from Basildon tonight? And then nobody answers. You‘re done, you‘re finished for the evening. Do not ask an audience questions until they totally trust you.
Who do you admire?
Billy Bragg. Always have. That‘s a career to model your own on really. He‘s good. And he‘s funny as well. He could‘ve been a stand-up quite easily. When you see him and he‘s really on form he‘s one of the funniest acts you‘ll ever see.
The last question I ask him is to guess as to whether his book is about Ian Dury, the original frontman for The Blockheads. “I wish,” he chuckles, and won’t say another word on the matter.
Phill and Phil’s Perfect Ten, Duke of York Picturehouse, 23 May. Booking line: 0871 7042056
