The Bedroom Philosopher's Croxton School Assembly (live review)

Venue: Thornbury Theatre

For both audience and the many and varied acts tonight at the Thornbury theatre, school is a comfortable enough distance away in time, that mocking its regiment feels like a rite of passage we can all relate to. Justin Heazlewood (aka; The Bedroom Philosopher) who established himself as one of the best observational comedians on the album, Songs From The 86 Tram, taps into that powerful uniting source of mirth and agony we call our school days in this latest in a series of themed concerts. Anybody who grew up attending an Australian school, recognised tonight the painfully accurate bad student poetry/music/acting in a show that - although aimed more at a Gen-X crowd –managed to remain broadly accessible.

Heazlewood’s type of humour works simply by identifying factors specific to average Australians. While Justin might laugh in a different part of the story to most of us, he usually manages to get his audience in on the joke without much effort. School, for those who excelled, was probably not particularly funny or remarkable, but for most of us, the experience is a source of pained amusement, which is precisely what informs Justin’s soft attack. Seated in what could easily pass for a typical school hall, we are presented with the atmosphere of a typical assembly, except for the first time, nobody is really expected to sit quietly and pay attention – or remain sober. The realisation sets in that Heazlewood has thrown his audience a golden opportunity to talk back, lounge around and generally rattle the nerves of those tiresome teachers and staff with no fear of a dreaded parental phone call.

Save from delivering actual canings, the performers in the Croxton School Assembly show maintain an engaging illusion of those uncomfortable, over-long school gatherings complete with authoritarian MC/Principle, (Ben Pobjie) and a better-than-in-reality school band, (Sex On Toast). The mumbling MC, who manages to embody every bored school Principle addressing a restless classroom, ever, becomes a figure of contempt as the night wears on. Between the main acts, he cops a deluge of paper planes and booing and hissing from the cross-legged ‘students’ spread out along the floor in front of the stage. Building on the already realistic atmosphere, he deals out ‘detentions’ in raised voice to even greater objection. But Principle Pobjie’s in-character droning, means reception for the performers is highly enthused whenever he leaves the stage, and with Tripod’s established guarantee-of-fun in place, the boys are swamped by applause after a particularly long head-masterly speech.

Tripod’s routine of songs, ‘unplanned’ cut-aways and geek-ified self-mockery is right at home in the Assembly, as is some stunningly awful poetry courtesy of Emilie Zoe Baker. The broad range of age groups – some with their own kids, some probably just out of school themselves – all respond with the same enthusiasm for being propelled into the horror of an amateur talent-night vibe. Crammed in among the ‘amateurs’ with his cover blown, Damien Cowell - ‘the guy who was in TISM’s’ new band, The DC3 displayed fitting irreverence for the whole event, (and Henry Wagons). Improvisational hooligans, Lime Champions fulfilled the role of class clowns, alongside stiff competition from The Bedroom Philosopher himself, who’s own set allows one notorious local identity to live out a school-age fantasy. Justin and his band, The Awkwardstra, deliver highlights their marvellous 86 Tram CD, plus newbie, I’m Leaving My Hairdresser, before unleashing their surprise guest.

The by-now even rowdier fans, roar their disapproval as Justin asks, ‘who here likes Aussie hip-hop?’ Not to be deterred, he jumps into We Are Tramily, a freakishly spot-on Hilltop Hoods send-up, during which the one and only John Safran, decked out in a silky tracksuit, bursts onto the stage, freestyling like a pro. Anyone who saw Safran’s Music Jamboree series, will recall the failure he endured getting his rap group, Raspberry Cordial taken seriously, but tonight he commands respect. That is, at least until he runs out of rhymes, and resorts to yelling ‘Raspberry Cordial’s in the house!’ randomly until the song ends in total disarray. Yes, it’s unplanned and a complete mess, but so much in the spirit of the Croxton school assembly, no-one cared. The Bedroom Philosopher along with a slightly embarrassed John Safran, file off stage to thunderous approval as our Principle returns to deliver joke-certificates to the performers. Closing the night, the mess of bodies played out on the floor hurling paper at the stage are treated to a medley of ‘90s rock songs by now partly de-trousered school band, Sex On Toast.

Justin Heazlewood took a huge leap of faith in making this theatrical, pretend-amateur show work. Whereas it could easily have come across as confusing and ‘just amateur’, Justin relied on, successfully it turned out, his audience’s willingness to go along with the joke for the duration of an event that gave little indication of what, if anything was expected of his fans. I suspect though, that the sight of half his audience turning up in school uniforms and behaving as if they were extras in the show, was the ultimate pay-off for Heazlewood and co. Other would-be comedy/musical acts should note: The Croxton high class of 2011 final exam results are in, and its distinctions all round people; time to pull your socks up.

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The Bedroom Philosopher interview (2010)

ON THE RIGHT TRACK

Melbourne Music's 2010 calendar is all about getting some pretty fresh ideas up and out there all in the name of nurturing our local talent. Events ranging from an awards ceremony for independent bands, to live street performances and stage musicals will run all throughout the city. Literally moving amongst the festivities, for his Live On The Tracks tram performance, will be none other than Justin Heazlewood's side-splitting alter-ego, The Bedroom Philosopher fresh off his Songs From The 86 Tram tour. He and his band of mis-fits known as The Awkwardstra will be emerging from the bedroom to share their particular brand of philosophy with Melbourne's commuters on board the 86, 96, 112 and City Circle trams at the request of Metlink and Yarra Trams.

Before Justin packs his guitar, public transport meanderings and gold-plated Myki and heads off to the station, he discusses iPods, private loos, dead chooks and owning his new tag. "I guess I turned myself into the poster-boy for public transport, so it seems logical I'd get the call to do this." Justin shrugs. "I was the obvious choice, wasn't I?" He adds cheekily. "Also I think Melbourne really needed another festival, things were getting a bit dull around the place, so it's nice that people will finally have something to do for a change."

Comparing live music venues to trams is a long stretch, but Justin happily runs with the notion. "I see it as a bit like The Tote crossed with a rollercoaster," he smiles. "People seem to be able to source alcohol pretty easily and it's got pretty good opening hours. The only downside is I won't be getting a curtained off area or private toilet, alas." Justin adds. "Also I'm gonna have to get used to people leaving during the gig, without taking it personally. My hope is that people find it so utterly captivating that they stay on board all the way to Bundoora." It's here that Justin prompts a possible concern that he'll in effect be competing with the scourge of public transport – the iPod army. So what plans does he have to distract his audience from their world of mp3 entertainment? "I was thinking maybe everyone could download my album to their iPod's and listen to it while I mime. I think that'd be quite a good post-modern gesture." He giggles. "Also because each track on the album corresponds to the suburbs the tram travels to, it'd be great if those actual characters from the songs get on the tram at the right intervals creating a kind of living film clip." The city tram is of course a haven for budding musicians in search of a captive audience – the singing driver has struck on many a visit in my own travels, not to mention the odd overzealous busker down the back. So what, I wonder, are Justin's thoughts on impromptu Awkwardstra wannabes? "Actually I'm really looking forward to the Smith Street leg of the journey – there's always the chance some dude with a harmonica might jump in, but in reality, we're a pretty reserved bunch in Australia." He pauses. "Whenever anything slightly unusual happens on a tram people tend to bury their faces in their books, so I hope that the good old combination of comedy and music will help ease some of that tension."



Justin, in standard Bedroom Philosopher mode, continues on a sharp witted analogy most commuters could surely identify with. "I think tram travel as like a detention for adults." He muses. "For ten minutes you have to sit in this room with other people you don't know and think about what you've done that day. I'm not saying it's a bad thing really, I mean they're pretty safe places to be when you think about it. It's not as if someone's gonna go nuts and hi-jack the tram and go for a joyride to Canberra." He adds in a mock aggressors tone; "We taking over this tram – we're going to Bundoora and then to docklands and then back to Bundoora again… And we're gonna keep going back and forth until our demands are met!"

Only at this point is there even a hint Justin's about to crack himself up. To get back on track, he bullshits masterfully about a cinema great that never was. "Did you know the original draft of Speed was set in Australia on a runaway tram?" He adds casually, "Only the bomb was set to go off if the tram went over five kph." He further reveals, "The psychopath was going to be played by Yahoo Serious, with Bill Hunter and Georgie Parker as the protagonists." Apart from re-casting trashy half-imagined films, through his recent single and video Northcote (So Hungover), Justin essentially revealed how he likes to spend his time on a long tram trip -  by casting himself as the as a tragic hipster making his way home from the "Fitzroy Anti-social Club". I question where his well honed fly-on-a-wall interest stems from. "I just find people watching endlessly fascinating - which is probably a bit creepy - but I wouldn't have written half the material I had if it weren't for many years absorbing people on a daily basis." He adds. "I see the trams as a kind of free theatre and as an artist it's a really good resource to tap in to. Plus you get to hear the best stories." He recalls. "One I heard that sticks in my mind was about a woman who apparently got on board with a live chicken and the driver said she couldn't bring a live animal on the tram, and so thought about it for a sec, and just broke it's neck!"

People watching can be a hazardous activity. I'm sure most of us have played a rousing game of 'trying-not-to-get-noticed-by-the-crazed-drunk-bloke', but Justin claims, despite his cracking commentary on Songs From The 86 Tram, he's not there to judge. "The thing is I am wary of becoming this retro bohemian looking down from his ivory tower, but the tram is a really equalizing arena I think. People kind of use the space for their own purpose in a way, whether it's to tell their life story to a stranger or break a chook's neck, everyone's on even ground I suppose." He adds thoughtfully, "I guess I am guilty of using it to my advantage as an observer and songwriter but its all relative really." Melbourne's trams certainly are fertile places for the imagination whether you're faced with little stimulus or grabs of overlapping conversations and colourful behaviour. If you're along for the ride, you'll find yourself among the company of slumbering/observing/participating/judging commuters not unlike yourself. Justin, naturally enough has a final philosophy on the topic. "I think it's important to remember, you can never really know a man until you've sat a mile on his tram line."  


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