Eat More Butts

The Chris Gethard Show and a decade of underground live music

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There’s a good chance that the one Ani DiFranco song I know is also the one Ani DiFranco song you know, and there’s a slightly less good chance that my favorite line in that song is also your favorite line in that song.

“People used to make records, as in the record of an event — the event of people, playing music in a room.”

One of the great troves of records we have of the events of people playing music in a room is unexpectedly The Chris Gethard Show, a live-broadcast public-access comedy show that later made the leap to Fusion and then Tru TV. Its 200-plus weekly episodes, dating back to June 2011, document a decade of weird underground music being performed live with crowds that — without fail — embrace weirdness and are down to party.

And if there’s one segment you can watch to really get the relationship of The Chris Gethard Show and music, it’s Public Access Episode 124, I’m Nervous All the Time.

At the episode-124 point in TCGS history, the show’s starting to transform into what will ultimately appear on Fusion and TruTV. Since its broadcast genesis, Gethard’s played the heart and anchor for a progressively complex, whirling multi-tier cake of sidekicks, characters, audience regulars, oft-costumed on-camera production staff, and callers with theme songs. It is (or was, until its cancellation slash creator pulled the plug earlier this year) a Byzantine sub-culture working itself into a semi-public frenzy each Wednesday night.

This thing that makes TCGS remarkable throughout its course is incredible, but it’s also about 65% too unwieldy for a public access show that — by this episode — has an eye on earning a slot on cable. And the development of a pilot by the creative team brings some polishing of the format into the live experience.

In episode 112 for instance, Murph begins opening the show, hyping the energy and introducing the regular cast for nascent viewers. Little touches like this can be difference makers in building the consistency needed for a big-time production. Ironically, the introduction of this new element also comes with Murph’s mic being turned off for the entire thing. J.D. Amato, TCGS’ director, writes in an overlay for this particular opening’s archived video, “I despise this and I will not stand for it. The road to immortality is not paved in mistakes. I would know.”

But by episode 124, Murph’s intro is running smoothly, complete with coordinated camera pan. Murph full-throats his way through the night’s cast: the greatest house band in the history of public access The LLC, internet liaison Bethany Hall, creature from the sea the Human Fish, random person no one knows but who will be featured on the show for the customary 15 weeks Random Sandy, of course Murph, jams-pumper Jeff Rosenstock, and your host Chris Gethard. The LLC flows into the show’s theme song, with the entire studio singing along.

Then. The audience begins chanting.

This happens sometimes. Usually it comes in refrains of “sandwich night” — in reference to the show’s annual punk-comedy Thanksgiving analogue. Tonight? “Eat more butts.”

“Eat more butts.”

“Eat more butts.”

Gethard dares the studio audience with a twirl of his finger and raise of his hands. The LLC lays in some backing rhythm. The crowd stands.

“Eat more butts.”

“Eat more butts.”

Five minutes in, it starts to feel like this might never end. Will it? Is this the episode? Was there ever a time these comedy geeks weren’t demanding I eat more butts? This is unusual.

There’s often an Andy Kaufman element to TCGS, an “is this real do i care if this is real maybe but probably not” sensation, especially as you’re learning the tells of the writers and cast. But this, I’m 65% sure, is not that … and in the very least, has sprouted obtuse goose wings and is flapping in wild rhythmic strokes out of whatever nest hatched it. And it’s already holding together better than Episode 95’s creator-devised, crowd-improvised hour-long song.

[embed]The Hour Long Song — Episode 95

“Enema.”

The chant shifts into a harmony-laden groove.

“Enema.”

What we’re seeing at this point, though, highlights one of TCGS’ other signatures, the loose format’s ability to run off the rails and just. keep. going. To fuck it up and do it live. The kind of thing that once broke down Bill O’Reilly is the thing that makes Chris Gethard’s wild contraption bleed.

On some scale grander than it should be taken, Amato’s joke was wrong: The immortality of TCGS is constructed with boundless mistakes. But Amato knows this: Even in its most processed state — the first season on Fusion, with the hour-long live format transformed to a 30-minute distillation of numerous hours of pre-recorded studio footage — the beauty of TCGS shines in its vulnerability and the glimmering insanity discovered by following it. The set in the Fusion era looks like a quarter-finished basement, with decor concepts started and aborted in favor of other half-baked ideas. (Minutes after the show returns to a live format, a guest takes a chainsaw to one wall of the set.) Mistakes and mayhem pave The Chris Gethard Show’s golden brick road.

And with that, it’s finally time to talk about the bands. Because we’re exactly ten minutes into the show, and with the chant waning and still no opening welcome from the show’s host, the evening’s aforementioned jam-pumping musical guests clutch their instruments, unexpectedly taking the chant’s baton from The LLC.

Tonight, yes, it’s Jeff Rosenstock — whose 2018 outing POST- regularly appeared on punk-infused year-end lists. This marks Jeff and crew’s first appearance on the show, and they’ll play twice more — episode 142 and, in full caninus regalia, for Fusion’s seventh episode with the regular audience replaced by dogs. But tonight, they’ve joined a DIY orchestral refrain with their own instruments: They’re not just performing, they’re participating. The crowd bursts back to critical mass for a mosh. And if you listen closely, I’m pretty sure someone incredulously states, “I brought my dad in here.”

[embed]Rosenstock does the canine thing in Fusion Episode 7

Even though most TCGS performances don’t stem off this level of bedlam, bands must have an expectation that the show can take weird turns at any juncture. Tech can go awry, personal space can be not-a-thing, a bit can crash or soar with the effects hurtling into your set. In episode 144, Tigers and Monkeys take over after a particularly Kaufman-esque bit which even a few of the principals hadn’t been clued in on. The bit features Smith, a supposedly disgruntled show runner for another Manhattan Neighborhood Network program, repeatedly stabbing into the heart of the show’s spirit. “It’s not MNN’s responsibility to be responsible for the emotionally stunted,” he says at one point, T-boning a young, diverse, and goofball crowd … You can see the anger in the audience’s faces (a few are seated facing the camera) and hear it in sidekick Shannon O’Neill’s voice, as Chris helps the scene teeter on the edge while holding ever-so-faintly on the reins of control. During the awkward transition to Tigers and Monkeys’ peformance Smith throws a glass of water on an audience member, nearly triggering a comedy-show equivalent of a bench-clearing brawl. Emotions are running high, and bandleader Shonali Bhowmik announces this song as a taunt of Smith, attempting to harness the bewildered tension into the performance.

[embed]Smith up to brilliant no good

TCGS isn’t SNL. It’s not even Conan. There’s no commercial break to ensure everything’s in line. The producers make the call, and you’re a go. There’s a challenge to booking acts for this kind of environment. As one of the bookers, Heidi Vanderlee, told Flavorwire in 2014 of the bands the show looks for, “They have to be someone that just has a good sense of humor about themselves because weird shit happens all the time.” But with an audacious approach to finding bands that fit the format like silicon putty over a gnarly robot hand, the show collects a beyond-eclectic array of performances from across the spectrum of renown: a slow-shutter snap of bands from — and touring through — the New York underground music scene.

Some names were recognizable gets: Ted Leo shows up both in episode 35 and truTV’s episode 8, Craig Finn in episode 70, Kitty Pryde in episode 61 and — after calling that the second biggest disaster of her life — episode 73. There’s Wheatus in 121 and Mike Doughty in 102. Cable will attract They Might Be Giants, Deerhoof, Less Than Jake, and The Go! Team.

And hey, Open Mike Eagle brings Hannibal Burress on the floor for a verse in episode 140.

[embed]Hannibal joins Open Mike Eagle – Episode 140

It’d be borderline irresponsible for me to not mention that some of the show’s biggest music trophies haven’t performed at all. Sleater-Kinney rolls through for an interview and participates in a rousing game of All Hands on the Bad One — where the goal is to simply not let go of an obnoxious character. (Priests bring the riotous four-piece fury for this episode.) And Fusion season 2’s The Diddy Episode is legendary stuff.

In this timely moment of episode 124, the entire room leaps through the chant’s climax, arms flailing high, as Jeff Rosenstock shifts gears and rips into one of their own songs. Feeling the second wind, Chris Gethard and audience mainstay (slash principal chant instigator) Julia embrace each other in a laughing hug. There’s a guy dressed up like a slice of pepperoni pizza, a woman in a dirndl, a clown wig, a unicorn, a Pope, a tin-foil helm, and a manic-bopping Banana Man. We are full throttle.

TCGS isn’t a haul video. Clearly, notable comedians and musicians come through the studio, but these performances are maybe 10% about the names secured and 90% everything else. And we’re talking literally just about anything and everything else. In good part, the show’s on-camera fans and crew set the stage. I mean, in these public-access days there’s not even a stage. The studio floor is shared communally by cast, audience, and band. Want to navel gaze? It won’t last long. Before performances, Chris implores the crowd to get up and dance. The way to be welcome in the community is to welcome more into the community.

[embed]Great Balls of Fire (live)

The performances truly stomp when the studio’s packed with audience in every nook and cranny and the band and audience merge into one bumping body, a rock-and-roll transcendence that dates back to the genre’s very beginnings. If you’re going to share stage space with the band, you better be hype. And if you’re a band amidst hype, you better bring fire.

For weird underground music, this often stands apart from the concert stance of scenesters. Kris Pabon of Animal Tropical (episode 58) explained the departure to Perfect Sound Forever, “The crowd we acquired through the Gethard show is much more approachable and not as chic as the people with pedals we often encounter in Brooklyn. Even though they have experimental music, the lack of pretentious and glibness undercuts the whole New York experimental flavor.”

But Heidi Vanderlee captured the allure of live symbiosis perfectly in her Flavorwire interview, “Yes, this is weird, but now you are part of this world. It’s OK. Everyone here is happy to see you. Even if it’s going to get weird, we promise it’s all good-natured.”

The electric embrace of underground music and comedy repeatedly delivers charges. Screaming Females mark one of the more iconic performances, and I’d point you to this sampling flight for a full-flavor profile ranging from queercore, to riot grrrl, to klezmer, and sometimes altogether:

• The Shondes
• Glockabelle
• Ghost & Goblin
• Stumblebum Brass Band
• Cudzoo & The Fagettes
• The Front Bottoms
• Teen Girl Scientist Monthly
• Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt

[embed]Fucked Up — Episode 97

The most renowned and absolutely punk-rock performance in the TCGS reservoir belongs to Fucked Up in episode 97. There’s an oceanic feeling of oneness here, with vocalist Damian Abraham (literally) pulling off his shirt and (figuratively) leaping into the choppy waters. Abraham bounds into typically unseen areas of the studio: stalks through the production halls, climbs the studio’s staircase, hoists Gethard on his shoulders, wears a safety cone over his head after a failed attempt at turning it into an amplifier, becomes one with the crowd and incites this weird comedy community into a full-fledged hardcore show.

Some bands like Fucked Up come into the show with fame preceding them outside their scenes, but for others this is a unique Radar Love moment … beaming out proof of their essence in the moment and ultimately history, to — sure — underground comedy fans. And for many bands, these TCGS recordings are among their best too — gritty, ferocious celebrations of music’s fueling force. It’s a place to live high: Here, you see the spark of what it means to make it as what you are, even for five minutes at a time.

[embed]Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show

There’s an at-this-point old interview with Okkervil River’s Will Sheff in The Believer that taps into this kind of live experience. He’s talking about another great recording of the event of people playing music in a room, Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show’s joyous, weird, and high-as-literal-fuck Musik Laden performance in 1975: “And it reminds me that rock and roll — and more broadly than that, song and folk music in general — is a jubilant, communal celebration of what’s grimy and great about life.”

The Chris Gethard Show is rock and roll. Whether it’s eating butts or not.

Meanwhile in episode 124, with Jeff Rosenstock hitting their last note and a brief, reserving chant trickling away, Chris Gethard finally has the opportunity to welcome viewers to his program, stating with a smile, “Sometimes that’s how our show begins.”

(And this time, it’s how it’ll end too.)

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