Art Is Cheese Made Visible

Art Is Cheese Made Visible

Religious Frenzy With The Firesign Theatre

Jonh Ingham

CAST: Phil Austin ........ P.A. Phil Proctor .P.P. Peter Bergman .... P.B. David Ossman.. D.O.

and introducing the Chorus

SIDE TWO

On Waiting for the Electrician

P.A.: I figured recently that you could interpret the ending that he’s saved, because someone pulls the plug. That is, the mechanical monster that’s saying, “Come to Side Six!” — Ha! Another Kafka trap! — the plug is pulled on him. Not the hero, just the record. Then I flashed ‘Ah, it’s the electrician; the guy who pulls the plug.’ Because Peter did a rap once on Radio Free Oz, that was the archetypal electrician rap. The electrician was a character of Peter’s that he used to play with all the time on Radio Free Oz, and the original ‘Waiting for the Electrican’ is an improvised title Peter came up with one night op the radio show. I was sitting in the booth engineering, and Peter was rapping wildly over the phone with Judy Eisenstein, a very brilliant poetess who was one of the frequent callers, and they’d get into these stoned philosophical raps on the air for four or five hours. He began putting her on and explaining how he’d seen a Bulgarian play when he was in Europe, because a lot of the radio show would go on Peter’s reminiscences of Europe. That’s all he had to talk about at the time, having just come from Europe. So Radio Free Oz was very Continental. And he said when he was in Bulgaria he saw this amazing play called ‘Waiting for the Electrician Or Someone Like Him,’ and then fantasized this whole play with all these strange things — musicians in the bathroom — it was an avant garde Communist play. It was forgotten that night, and then when the group got together, one of the first things we did together was with the Fine Arts Festival at UCLA. There was Joe Byrd and the U.S.A., and it was very Provo and that whole trip, and so we went and we said we’ll perform this play that Peter made up because it so amazed everybody, and the title was so weird. So all along it’s a thing in Peter’s head.

Then the next record is Peter — he’s Babe on Two Places, driving the car. And Peter, in fact, at that time had millions of cars. He’d just come to L.A. — the only one of us who had just come here. He was the visitor from Enroute. And he comes to America and he buys a car, which takes him on a trip into the past, basically. Nick Danger eventually solves the riddle of the past, brings him up to the future, and he is left in this parallel present day world: Home. That’s what’s explored in Dwarf — home/high school. Everything that ever happened when you were a kid, all the movies you’ve ever watched on tv, your whole life in the present. And then that guy from the present begins moving on Bozos. He takes a walk — it’s not George Tirebiter, but it’s that same sort of guy, only it’s played by Phil Procer, as Clem ... Or you could say me as Barnie, whom he picks up on the bus. I haven’t been seen since Electrician, when I was the guy screaming for his mother.

P.P.: It turns out that the story is really your story.

P.A.: Indeed. But the guy that we’re dealing with all along, the secret is that he’s Malcolm X John Lennon ...

P.P.: They’ve discovered that La Brea Man was really La Brea Woman ... Little mistake ... He was probably having an affair with La Brea Woman.

P.B.: LAGUNA MAN WANTS LA BREA WOMAN ... THEY MET THROUGH THE CARBON DATING SERVICE!

P.P.: Laguna Man wants La Brea Woman. Object... Tarrific time.

P.A.: My wife, she’s in Women’s Liberation, and she didn’t want me to mail the letters; she wanted me to female them, But I couldn’t find a box.

P.P.: Well, I tell you. There are a few items here I’d like to auction off before we go into that. We’ve got more schnifters, humorous napkin rings, hot rays, gestetner coasters, and bun warmers. There’s a fine collection of drop earrings, finger scarves, gavels and sash bucklers, shredded cellophane and parchment scraps, squeeze toys, mechancial toys, blow up women and extra parts, board books and plastic stockings — only odd pairs. We have a wonderful assortment of owls to please the gourmet. Cheese boards — edible, wine racks and thumb screws, combined with a finger scout it’s a great gift idea. Abalone trivets, turtle shell backs and sea horse droppings mounted in warped plastic. A nice paperweight or a fancy weapon for over the holidays. Poison rings, Swedish pecking chickens — dead of course — Dewey King phantom fans, a personal belonging, weather bonnets, clip on coasters, beer can lighters and rincos, flicker lights, artificial birds, lap desk, wooden head puppets, miniature wool animals, jewels, feathers, and cuckoo clock kits with funny birds in them. These are factory rejects friends. Glow charts, grill gloves, kotex towels from Germany, snail plates, karate slippers. And don’t forget, eye charts, doll cases, or the strangled food dispensers from Malaysia, the mug tree chopping bowls, electric churches, candy canes, or the whistling men, and the golf gizmos up the geegee, but we just haven’t got time. So remember, pack your monkey pods and your giant forks and1 drag books and write in for those sloth-ropes, friends ...

P.A.: Whatever gestalt we have decided that on the next record Phil Proctor would have the hading part because he’d never had ' one. Oddly enough it turns out that it’s Barnie, who came out of left field. He wasn’t even in the original script, he just grew as we needed someone for Clem to talk to. Finally, at the end of the record — at the end of the whole process — we began to realize how it all fit together. I didn’t rrealize a lot of the connections on it until after I got it home and listened to it. I suddenly began to see how beautifully it synchs up at the end.

At the very beginning of the record, just after David, says, “Analee,” and she turns on the electric typewriter, the guy who comes walking down the street, scuffling leaves, is Clem, the fortune teller. And it’s he who is the expectant crowd when the bus pulls up. Barnie’s already on the bus, enmeshed in the world with his nose and his pals and he’s off to the Future Fair. So it’s a funny thing to envision, because it doesn’t really start with the guy who’s asking, “What is my future?” The secret of it is at the very end he says, “I see you are a sailor,” and then it goes off into a thing about the sea. Well, that’s the way a fortune teller works — especially a theatrical fortune teller, as they all are in a sense. It’s just artists — they’re all like that. “Look into the ball — buy this painting.” That’s just what it is. And Barnie’s kind of a dog, a pleasant guy, and he can’t remember anything. Just a nice dude that would come and watch a play. That artist-audience relationship. Clem’s not a bad guy because he’s a fake; he’s just making a living — doing what all the actors and artists and musicians do when they get into show business. His thing is looking at a person and saying, “Ah, I see you are a sailor,” and then making a world out of it. He must have said to Barnie, “I see you are a bozo,” and then tells a story about that Rule American figure that keeps cropping up. Who he is in the future. But still a very pleasant guy. The all American tourist. Peter’s always insisted when talking to people that we’re very much for bozos. We don’t think.bozos are creeps. We think bozos are a pleasant projection of the future. Instead of being faceless THX1138 robots, they’re just nice dumb bozos, that you already know, because the future is already here. It’s just going to be the same people — You just think a minute and say, “Allright, I can write a science fiction story about you. I can tell you the future.” Because the guy telling the story — the artist — knows that there is no future. That you’re dealing with a cat and getting his dollar away from him. You’re telling wonderful stories about the future or the past and our glorious ancestors, and the guy keeps giving you dollars. It’s harder to say, “Look what’s going on around you right now,” because the guy will get confused and say “This isn’t a very good show. Tell us one about the future^ Tell us one about the past.” Somehow that’s the relationship between trying to tell things to people and how it’s done.

P.B.: WHEN WE FIRST STARTED WE THOUGHT WE WERE THE BEATLES, BECAUSE THEY WERE THE BEST AROUND. P.A.: Bozos is a fraternal organization — Brotherhood of Zips and Others — and Barnie is their Chairman; obviously an important guy. [Obviously it’s a communist brotherhood.]

D.O.: We’ve got a letter here guys. This came to us from a land far far away... “Well hi I’m 23 and I never thought I’d be writing a fan letter in my life, but here’s one. I’ve been in Nam for 17 months now, and about seven months ago a friend received your last album from the World. There’s always been a group of five heads who get together at night and relax. We listen to some hard stuff and then when we’re really stoned -

P.A.: Call the President! They’re not shooting it, they’re listening to it!

D.O.: I thought this would bring you to certain revelations. “And then, you’ve got to believe me, ” he goes on, “when 1 say it has changed our lifestyles here in Nam. We have it memorized, and yell out phrases from it, and use some for replies to straights, and sometimes even run through a skit between a couple of guys. Needless to say, no-one knows why we’re laughing, or what we’re talking about, because nothing’s funny. Some of the lifers have even picked it up and are using it unknowingly. I figured that the ultimate would be this situation: You ’re at a party and you ’re mixing with folks and every once in a while you slip in a word or a phrase from the album” -P.P.: Eat it raw!

P.B.: HA! HA! PRETTY INTELLECTUAL OVER THERE CARSON!

P.A.: Third record! —

D.O.: “Well, as you can see, nobody picked it up, so eventually 1 got so desperate that I asked if anyone had ever heard of the Firesign Theatre. Some had, so I tried turning people on to you. You don ’t get much out of your albums the first few times, so I wasn’t able to get much of a response. I think I’ll have to get a new set of friends. Well, I brought all of your albums back to Nam, and they’re o.k., but they just don’t come across like Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers. Which brings up a point. We had that album about two months before figuring out what it meant. One night one guy is just hit with the revelation after studying the cover for a half hour. Fantastic. Well, so long. Thanks for the enjoyment you’ve given us. Signed, last of the original five. ”

P.A.: [On “Le Trente-Huite Cunegonde”]:

The pilot of the plane is Marshall McLuhan, because the plane is named Anola McLuhan. And it’s dropping the excess books on Nigeria — the niggers — Nigeria. Which is what Nigeria means: land of black people. There’s no other explanation. Dropping books on the black people; that’s what it comes down to. So I figured that the woman who says, “It’ll kill your father,” and forces her son, Malcolm X John Lennon, to watch the tv, must be the mother of the pilot of the plane. So the pilot of the plane is Malcolm X John Lennon’s father, and it is he who we find in Europe on side two. I personally rationalize it that way, but you may not

P.B!: I WAS WITH MALCOLM X IN THE OLD DAYS ... MECCA ... ALL THAT ... BUT I’VE CHANGED NOW.

P.A.: In a sense, the whole dialogue between the clone and the computer about its existence is: do I have a reason for existence? Can my question be answered? The question can’t be answered, and it is my assumption that that is the end of Clem clone. In fact, it is the end of unreality, because at that point we shift, and fade into the real world, which we haven’t even known, that the authors — those jolly dogs — haven’t given you any hint of at all, because we didn’t even think about it until the last few days. It didn’t come to us that this was a world in the past somewhere — like 1875 — or a world in the future past of 2075, or somewhere in a world where there are horse-drawn things, and this is a travelling gypsy show. It’s called Dr. Firesign’s Travelling Theatre of the Plains and Electric Buffalo Show, which is part of our old stage act and a myth thing we have among us about this tatty group of Shakespearean actors moving about the West, playing for the miners/minors and sodden old wretches, who are us when we used to tour around.

[Background accompaniment of whizzing cars and barking dogs.]

P.A.: Hi friends! I’m Gary Firesign for Mr. Romano of Hollywood! Yes! Our triple year end sale is going on right now, or my name isn’t Wilson!.Or mine! Or mine! You see, I don’t think you can run a business like ours without satisfaction to the customer! People say to me, “Eddie, the sincerest form of flattery, I’d guess you call it, is imitation.” Too bad Steve, but that’s just our little joke. The dog isn’t for sale. Not since Ralph was arrested have I been able to offer you a Demon at these sensational prices! The President said, ‘Move these Demons,” and golly, I just can’t afford not to! And you don’t have to dress up at Mr. Ed’s for style, because there’s no suit over $30 now that a major clothes manufacturer has closed its doors on a substance known as Adenadene Phosphate, crucial to hair growth! I wouldn’t let my wife drive one of them after what the President said about Ralph! Well, I’m sitting down on the dog now, because I wouldn’t want to spoil your movie! Some call it a commercial, but I like to call it thanks for the commercial, and whatever spills or kids or your dog does to the hood of your auto, he’s not for sale! That’s just our little joke! I’d like to show you some pictures of men and women, like yourselves, in this area! Men and women, like yourselves, in various poses, sitting on the cars late at night, when even Fletcher has gone. Yes, Fletcher must sleep sometimes! I couldn’t stand on my head to give you a better deal so I think I’ll sit down to rest my back. There are too many of these Demons here now for me to be entirely comfortable, and the puppy — Well, I like to call him your friend and mine, my dog Storm — well, he’s not for sale! Everything else certainly is since the President arrested Ralph! There are more Demons on the lot than a week ago! They’re piling up! We can’t get rid of them, and there’s no one to talk to, not even this little fellow here! I like to call him your friend and my friend, my dog Storm ... the second. He’s not for sale. Like people in this area! Men and women like yourselves, , who thump and run when the President says, “Sell those Demons!” I’ll just sit over here and wait for them to come and get me, and this fellow here, who I like to call Stuffed ... He’s not for sale. But millions are just like him! Men and women, like yourselves, who are making a fortune today selling stuffed dogs as the streets become full of Demons and no fit place for this little fellow here. I’d like to call him Storm and drong, but they won’t let me. Well now, gee, thanks for the interruption, and now back to your game ...

P.A.: We’re not too sure about the next album, but we want it to be on the ocean. So far all the things that have come to us are that it’s a journey, and it has something to do with watchfires burning on the shore ... We’re moving towards a world where it’s becoming more and more obvious that everyone is an animal. It’s becoming obvious to us that nearly all the voices on Bozos are animals; mostly dogs. Barnie’s a dog to me, because I see the whole record as if it were a Walt Disney 1945 cartoon. And there are all the vegetables on this album ...

P.P.: There are various art forms that I can do for myself without copping out to the Firesign Theatre, be it a televison commercial, or writing a movie for somebody else, or what have you ... If I get myself involved in other things that are in a stage of progression, I can’t do it. I don’t have the time to focus attention on something — the only person who can focus attention on anything is the person who wants it to happen. I have to focus most of my attention to getting Firesign , along with the rest of us. P.B.:WE TALK ABOUT A FUTURE THAT’S NOT SOOTHING BECAUSE WE DON’T BELIEVE THERE’S SUCH A THING AS A PANACEA. YOU JUST HAVE TO BE YOURSELF. IF THE FUTURE IS A NIGHTMARE, IT’S YOUR NIGHTMARE.

P.A.: Clem makes the Clem clone to go back into the computer to destroy himself. All you’re hearing is the destruction of the clone, rather than the fair, as we once thought. You’re hearing the Clem clone go in — a clone that doesn’t have any real reason for existence, but knows enough of the passwords to get right to Dr. Memory to find out if the question is unanswerable, as indeed it is. All the other clones have things to do — go out and sing to people or say, “Stand by the candy striped line” — but he has nothing to do but ask a question. He says, “Tough grid, mack. That’s who I am.” This is the whole thing of the record, this little puzzle of what happens inside there.

P.A.: Tonight’s Dr. Beanbag Show was brought to you by the Best Buy Best Book Club, joffering this month a new best buy best seller from the dusty cellar of the Best Buy Best Book Club, where —

P.B.: I WAS HITLER’S DOKTOR BY LIEUTENANT FRITZ KRAUT!

D.O.: Yes! It’s available to you in an exclusive resilient rubberbound printing!

P.P.: Now, and for the first time, the Schnifter’s whole incredible, personal and private life is revealed for lots of money by his trusted personal physician and psychiatrist, Dr. Lieutenant Fritz Kraut, an ex-Nazi who, writing with medical college frankness, and making the most sensational disclosures ever made about any person!

P.A.: Talk about rotten psychological backgrounds! These terrible confessions!! These ghastly self revelations!! Every patriot should read this amazing must book!!

D.O.: Yes, if you hate Hitler now, no word yet invented will describe your feelings after you have read, I Was Hitler’s Doktor!

P.P.: Yes, for fifteen boring years this mad fiend poured out his psychoanalytical sickness in startling man to man conversations with Lieutenant Kraut! Indeed, most of these authenticated revelations are so affecting, they may not even be mentioned in an advertisement! Now, you too, for only $1.98, can know about as much about Der Schnifter as does Dr. Lieutenant Kraut!

D.O.: Just listen to what ex-Army specialist K. Orvid Enlid, present President of the Medical Reserve says in a special preface to this haute book.

P.B.: AS A DOCTOR, I RECOGNIZE THE PHENOMENA DESCRIBED AS HUMAN, AND AS SUCH, UNDERSTANDABLE. P.A.: You must read this book!

P.P.: Rush me my copy! When the policeman arrives at my door I will pay him $1.98 (plus small postage and DOA charges). I understand that I may read the book in his presence and if not entirely satisfied, will return it to him at once, no questions asked, and at no additional cost!

P.A.: You must not miss this fantastic offer!

D.O.: Hurry, before the war ends!!

[RECYCLED FROMMA TERIALS COLLECTED AND DIGESTED NO VEMBER-DECEMBER 1971.]