Who: Phil Nichol
Where: The Stand Comedy Club II
When: Fri 7 — Sun 30 Aug (not 17)
How Much: £10
In 140 characters or less: “Canadian comic Phil Nichol turns manic lounge singer. Cash meets Sinatra is a storm of tequila, swearing and song.”
Musical comedy is all the rage in Edinburgh this year. Since David O’Doherty took last year’s If.comedy award at the Fringe for Let’s Comedy, his whimsical collection of oddball songs, tapped out on a tiny keyboard, other performers have re-invented themselves as all-singing (and, more rarely, all dancing) comedy acts. The Irishman is a tough act to follow though. The last few years have seen the bar for tune-based comedy raised to dizzying new heights as comics like Bill Bailey and Doc Brown have pushed the medium far beyond the boundaries of bawdy three-chord singalongs and trite lyrical parodies.
Enter Phil Nichol. The Canadian comedian, a former member of comedy songster trio Corky and the Juice Pigs, has abandoned his now familiar stand-up routine in favour of an outrageous over-the-top musical show at this year’s Fringe. A Deadpan Poet Sings Quiet Songs Quietly sees Nichol take to the stage with slicked-back hair, a wide grin and a dapper suit, acoustic guitar hanging from his shoulder; think Johnny Cash meets Frank Sinatra after a few tequilas too many. He’s accompanied by a jazz pianist and a double bass player who add a carefully calculated air of pretentiousness to the proceedings, together with their finely-honed chops and backing vocals.
Despite the change in format, Nichol’s trademark deadpan humour has survived the transition to musical comedy fully intact. He’s witty and cutting, with absolutely impeccable delivery, as unexpected lyrical twists leave the audience writhing in mirth. The songs themselves form the backbone of the show and direct audience interaction, while not entirely absent, is kept to a minimum. Nichol remains in character throughout, a brooding, cynical veteran of a thousand lounge performances, determined to inflict his misery upon the world. The subject matter ranges from darkly comic personal diatribes to surprisingly incisive criticisms of PC culture, all held together by the performer’s infectious intensity and ludicrously foul mouth.
Gaps between songs are bridged with loosely-themed collections of short, sharp one-liners which act as a prelude for Nichol’s next irreverent slice of poetry. If the quips seem hit and miss, the effect is surely deliberate. Razor-sharp witticisms induce genuine belly-laughs while some of the more low-brow material elicits unsympathetic moans just as heartfelt. Nichol, however, seems to thrive on the cheesiness of some of the more ropey gags. “A groan is as good as a laugh to me!” he gleefully informs the audience after an especially hammy pun.
It’s clear that Nichol hasn’t quite ironed out all the creases in A Deadpan Poet… but the show is brimming with comic potential. The songs that make up the middle section lack the intensity and imagination of the opening and closing salvos and, despite the intended ironic uncouthness, too many of the one-liners are devoid of the sophistication an Edinburgh audience demands. Thankfully, however, the show’s ending and Nichol’s exhilarating stage presence more than compensate for any shortcomings in the rest of the material.
For a performer who has been away from the musical comedy scene for so long — the Fringe is A Deadpan Poet’s first outing in front of a live audience — Phil Nichol acquits himself admirably and, with a bit of spit and polish as the festival goes on, his latest show could easily become one of the highlights of the Fringe.
Festbuzz Rating:
Words: Jodi Mullen
