The Density of Tim Michin
August 25, 2024
The UK-born Australian songwriter/comedian Tim Minchin, in his interview with David Gordon, said about his tour, An Unfunny Evening with Tim Minchin and His Piano, “[it’s] definitely a comedy show, but not as in there was structured stand-up or political or philosophical ranting. It was well over half not comedy songs. The designation between the two is unclear anyway, because it’s like everything in the world, it’s not a fucking binary.”
I knew Tim’s work in snippets — the musicals Matilda and Groundhog Day, his portrayal of Judas in the Live Arena Tour of Jesus Christ Superstar, some of his comedy specials on YouTube, a song or two popping up on shuffle. A man erudite with words and fingers.
In person, he is an ADHD-dizzy intellectual riddled with darkness. Riffing on the recent Democratic Convention (“I have a stiffy for the DNC”) as a beacon of hope and joy for America and the world. Ranting about social media: “Ask yourself: how often is my mind changed by someone angrily asserting their position on the internet?” Lecturing on “arrival theory,” the illusion we’ll be happy when we reach a destination. Recounting reams of letters parents of neurodivergent children (or “neurospicy” as he calls them) who felt seen from hearing his ballad “Quiet” from Matilda. Half the evening was thoughtful commentary, often vulgar, sometimes comedic, always meaningful. The other half was soulful.
“Apart Together” is about an older couple found frozen to death, holding each other. This provided the backdrop to a story about what Tim defines as the true meaning of a committed relationship — to watch the other decay. When he wrote the song, his mother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. His father, touched by the song, was also so moved by an image in the music video of a couple, statuesque, holding each other that he wanted Tim to get the sculpture for him. Turned out it was CGI-generated, but Tim had a plaster cast version made. It broke in transit; his father meticulously glued the parts together so if one squints, they only see a hairline fracture.
The evening ended with lights down, eyes closed, joining the chorus of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” We sang the final refrain three times before Tim bid goodnight.
Not a comedy show. Not a concert. Reminded me of Illinoise, the “musical” inspired by Sufjan Stevens’s 2005 concept album Illinois, which doesn’t easily fit in the category of musical or drama — it was part concert, part ballet, part drama. Life isn’t either/or, black/white, male/female, right/wrong, heaven/hell. Those of us who consider ourselves progressives continue to smash the patriarchy and now endeavor to smash the binary. Tim Minchin’s two hours smashed it all, calling us to be a little lighter, more compassionate, living the moment, knowing the collective is stronger than any individual. If I had the time, I would’ve taken the train in the opposite direction to see the show again tonight in New York. Thanks, Tim. (And Dave, with whom I shared the experience.)
