Emo Phillips

[faceless]

Cremation ceremony makes a peculiar sight
Jae-Ha Kim
Tribune Media Services
October 18, 2009

His high-pitched voice and shaggy bangs are as much his trademarks as his dry, sardonic wit. And Emo Philips, 53, a comedian for most of his adult life, can't imagine doing anything else. "It's just something that works for me," said Philips, who lives in Los Angeles. "I get to travel and tell my stories onstage. It's the ideal life for me."

Though he was executive producer of the original 1992 version of "Meet the Parents" (the film that didn't star Robert De Niro) and dipped his toes into film and television work, Philips isn't looking to make a mark for himself as an actor. "I'm a good stand-up comedian and can't say the same about my acting abilities," he said. Philips talks about his travels, including a trip to Nepal where he got to witness -- among other things -- a cremation ceremony.

What is your favorite vacation destination?
San Francisco is an amazing city. Lombard Street there is fantastic. But if I could just wish myself back to one place, it'd be Nepal. I loved seeing the wild dogs and monkeys in the streets. It's so different from what I'm used to. There'll be like 30 people riding in the back of any kind of vehicle, and people will pass on the hills going the wrong way. It's crazy, wonderful and so much fun. A lot of Westerners will mistake poverty with spirituality. It's interesting because many Nepalese are dirt poor, but they all dress nicely. Their pants are pressed, their hair is combed, and they're thin and presentable. And then you see Americans earning more than the whole village, and we look like a bunch of clowns wearing T-shirts and gym shorts.

What is your best vacation memory?
In 1995 on a riverbank in Nepal, I watched a cremation ceremony during which a few boys chatted pleasantly on a ledge 10 feet or so above the burning body, oblivious to being completely enveloped by the rising smoke. At the same time, perhaps a half-dozen yards upstream, a group of monkeys amused themselves by repeatedly jumping into the river from an overhanging tree branch.

How do you try to fit in when you're a tourist?
When I hung out in Paris a lot, I bought a street cleaner's uniform and carried a local paper around and didn't brush my teeth a whole lot, and I fit right in. Actually, it's a myth that the French are snooty and rude. They're very friendly actually -- among the friendliest in the world. I don't understand how they got the reputation for being rude. I don't speak French, and they could not have been nicer to me or more helpful. I love the French!

When you go away, what are some of your must-have items?
There is nothing I have to have with me to be OK on a trip. I always want to travel light because then you can just jump on any train. But then you've got to go to the store and buy everything, or you wear the same thing and wash it in the sink every night.

Have you ever been guilty of being an "ugly American"?
No, but I have been mistaken for being Canadian. When you say "please" and "thank you" in some countries, they just assume you're from Canada and not the United States.

What have you learned from all your travels?
The food is worse in the U.S. than anywhere else in the world.

[pirtybirdy]

He is a text book loony liberal. lol! I used to like him in his early years when I was a kid, but then he dropped off the radar, so I don't even think he's making it as a comedian either.

[faceless]

He is still doing the rounds - he was touring over here last year I think. The problem is that he still talks with that mad voice, even though he talks about having kids - which just doesn't fit with the idea of him being so airy-fairy

[faceless]

If you enjoyed those 'Peter Kay' one-liners in your inbox, they were probably written by Emo Philips
Helium-voiced survivor of 1980s alternative comedy boom on internet plagiarism, his 'subconcious' hairstyle, and being the original emo kid
James Kettle
The Guardian,
10 July 2010

Stop me if you think that you've heard these ones before. "My girlfriend always giggles during sex, no matter what she's reading." "I ran three miles today, and finally I said, 'Lady take your purse.'" "When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bike, then I realised that the Lord doesn't work that way, so I stole one and asked him to forgive me." "I'm a great lover … I'll bet."

We're all familiar with the work of Emo Philips without even realising it. His jokes are often so pithy and perfectly formed that they gain a life beyond the confines of his routines. They've been passed between workmates and friends via word of mouth; lifted wholesale by other acts (as Philips once said, "My jokes are in my head and I have a duplicate copy of my jokes in a lot of British comics' heads, where they are safe"); and circulated via chain emails. The latter is a more recent development: several times a year, some of Emo's jokes (muddled in with a few other classic one-liners) arrive in your correspondent's inbox, credited to Peter Kay, John Cleese or someone equally unlikely.

Such is the lot of the man seen as an inspiration by the likes of Jimmy Carr and Tim Vine, and regarded by the not-famously-generous figure of Jay Leno as the greatest gag writer in the world. However, UK audiences now have an opportunity to hear a fresh set of pristine jokes coming direct from the source, as Philips returns to this country for the first time in five years.

A truly great one-liner is seen as the highest form of the stand-up comedian's art, so what's the secret? "I think the key to writing a good one-liner is to eliminate as many unnecessary words as you possibly can," says Philips. "I'm sorry, make that: take all the words out of it that you can." And his favourite joke? "That's like asking a mother, 'Which is your favourite kid?' Obviously, it's the one that slipped out the easiest."

The jokes may seem to slip out easily for Philips, but his verbal skill and dexterity of thought are surely the product of a great deal of craft. He's guarded about his personal life (beyond remarking that "I actually live a quite normal life, but ... for a foetus"), but rumours persist that behind the characteristic breathy and high-pitched delivery of Emo Philips there is a gentleman called Phil Soltanek, who has been inhabiting this character since the early 1970s.

The Philips that appears in front of audiences is certainly a remarkable creation. On top of that shrill, wispy voice (which takes some getting used to, especially if you're accustomed to the rapid-fire stridency of most gag-based stand-ups), there's the haircut – an extraordinary bob that seems more likely to have been copied from a medieval artwork than designed by a contemporary stylist. "The reason for my hairstyle," he claims, "lies in my subconscious. I'm guessing, however, that it has something to do with the fact that, growing up, my mother, on the first day of summer vacation, would shave my head. I believe it is possible that I am now overcompensating."

'British audiences never laugh at my routine about mowing the lawn. I have no idea why. You can't all be using goats'

His bizarre look is of a piece with an equally peculiar outlook on life. The onstage Philips exists in a state of permanent arrested development, at times displaying childlike innocence, at others showing a sinister enthusiasm for perverted behaviour. Philips explains his freakish stage persona as an extension of some of his real-life quirks. "Everyone, everywhere, and all the time, used to laugh at me when I was growing up. So, when I was around 18, I thought, 'I'll become a comedian, and then if everyone laughs at me, I'll be famous.' So I went on stage one night and, for the first time in my life, everyone stopped laughing at me." Given his off-putting appearance and manner, does he ever get groupies? "There is a fine line between a groupie and a fan that finds you attractive. But in either case, no."

Although Philips is happy to play the outsider as a stand-up, British audiences have always given him a particularly warm reception. Maybe it's because his love not just of puns but all kinds of ludicrously contrived wordplay means that he fits neatly with a tradition of humour that's always been popular over here. Were it not for the lack of Home Counties vowels, you could almost imagine him among the cast of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue.

From the moment he arrived in the UK in the mid-1980s, Philips became a cult figure among the alternative comedy cognoscenti. He must have seemed novel, given the difference between his deliberately silly approach and the altogether more abrasive and politicised style practised by the likes of Ben Elton and Alexei Sayle. Since then, he's made numerous returns to this country (albeit punctuated by long absences) to play to an extremely loyal audience that includes a lot of big homegrown comedy names. Does he find there's a difference in response between British crowds and those back home? "The only difference I have found is that British audiences never laugh at my routine about mowing the lawn. I have no idea why. You can't all be using goats."

After playing a set at the Latitude festival this weekend, Philips will be preparing for a run at this year's Edinburgh festival fringe. It was his appearances there more than 20 years ago that prepared the ground for his UK success, and he remains very fond of the city. He also approves of the UK as a whole, although for a typically unlikely reason.

Over here, he says, "the 'funny' TV adverts are, mirabile dictu, actually funny. My theory is that American copywriters see their competitors once a year at an awards ceremony, whereas their British counterparts bump into their rivals every night at the pub, and the peer pressure keeps them on their toes. They fear the mockery of their fellows far more than a follow-up from marketing." He is less convinced about the benefits of the new political regime, though. "It seems that if the United States elects a liberal, the rest of the world elects a conservative, and vice versa. Our species has an instinct for balance because we evolved from a tree-dwelling primate."

Philips's success on record and on TV in the 1980s may have been a high water mark, although he refutes the notion with characteristic high-pitched dryness: "It's a myth that the 80s were my best decade. In truth, it was from June 1984 through May 1994." In any case, he continues to find new and unexpected ways of making audiences laugh.

One new hazard he's had to deal with is the fact that his assumed name now has some unexpected connotations. However, rather than bemoan the torrid, angsty phenomenon of the emo kid, Emo Philips has decided to take personal credit for its genesis. "Few 'emo' kids are aware that I took the name from zero to 60," he says. "I'm not claiming that I influenced the 'emo' sound, but if you glance at the cover of my 1985 album, E=MO2, you'll see my 'emo' hair, clothing and physique." Philips is happy to take his potential association with the likes of My Chemical Romance on the chin. "At least I can take solace in the fact that my father, Bebop Philips, had to suffer the exact same indignity."