Eugene Mirman

zombie wrote:Here is a scan of the postcard Eugene has been handing out at shows. It goes with his bit about Delta Airlines. So funny.

[size=133:csqk7s08]Eugene Mirman’s tips for opening bands

[size=100:csqk7s08]by Sean ONeal April 28, 2009

While it’s hardly a guaranteed ticket to stardom, opening for a popular headlining act is a sweet gig: You get the same exposure, most of the perks, and a bigger cut of the door than you’d ever get on your own, and audience expectations are so low, there’s nowhere to go but up. Of course, not everyone knows how to behave as an opening act, which is why The A.V. Club asked comedian Eugene Mirman—who will be warming up crowds before Flight Of The Conchords on their current tour—how to make the most of reflected glory.

Hanging out backstage

Eugene Mirman: We have five different dressing rooms, and a place where we make people wait that we never plan on talking to. There’s a room for beer, and then another room with the glasses for the beer. It’s a real pain. There’s one room that’s antipasti, and another one for salad—which they unnecessarily distinguish. They put the hot stuff in one room, cold stuff in another. Imagine, like, a Papa Gino’s buffet spread throughout a castle, with really dim office lighting. And then there’s the 'uck-room.

The A.V. Club: What goes on in the 'uck-room?

EM: Piles of 'ucking. It’s basically just a lot of beanbag chairs with people 'ucking on them. It’s very uncomfortable. As the opening act, I have to help put it together.

AVC: When trashing dressing rooms, do you start with the headliner’s?

EM: Actually, usually the only thing in your dressing room is a sad, crappy couch, so it would just be depressing to make it even more crappy.

Taking advantage of the rider

EM: I have my own rider, but it’s easier to get it done if you put it on the headlining band’s. So that’s where I put the roller-skate shoes, crossbows, the saffron. I travel with my own wok, so I need lots of spices and oils. I always need fresh wasabi root. I have seafood flown in. The expensive stuff always goes on their rider when they’re not looking. Nobody’s going to get mad at Flight Of The Conchords for having $2,500 worth of saffron delivered.

Getting groupies

EM: Here’s a trick I learned long ago: Write your phone number in mirror-writing on their breasts while they’re distracted—say, by the chaos of fame—so when they go home and they’re washing their breasts in the sink, they’ll look up and go, “Holy shii, I have Eugene’s number.” This is also how I find love.

AVC: Do you find that being an opening act makes you second-tier to groupies?

EM: No, people want a piece of whatever they can get. But you also don’t want a lunatic, which is why I communicate by writing a message that can only be deduced in a mirror.

Warming up the audience

EM: It’s important to prepare them for the worst in life. People come to forget their problems, and it’s my job, right before I leave, to go, “Don’t forget: You’re going through a divorce and there’s a recession.” It’s always good to end on a pensive note.

During the headliner

EM: I’m usually off building stuff, cooking things, making to-do lists. It’s my quiet time to reflect. Otherwise, it’s just mayhem back there. All that free spaghetti.

AVC: When is the right time to run back onstage for an impromptu duet?

EM: Unfortunately, I don’t really sing, so the best I could do would be to run back out and light my arm on fire. The perfect time to do that would be right after the last encore. I like the idea of people milling about trying to leave, and then they see a man running back onstage screaming, with his arm on fire. That’s how you create an Internet hubbub. The blogosphere erupts, Facebook unfurls its claws, and people say, “Man, we should have stayed.”

AVC: Do you look at being an opener as a game of one-upmanship?

EM: I think of it more as a concerto, even though I don’t know what a concerto sounds like. It has movements, right? It’s like a delicious play, one that can be truly savored. I’m the soup and they’re the lamb’s leg. You can’t just go right to the lamb. You’d be like, “Whoa, this definitely needs some soup.” Lighting my arm on fire, that’s the crème brûlée. Basically, I’m a sorbet that you can’t get out of your head.

[size=100:dbd0h7r2]A groupie is like a source of nutrition—obviously you can have a vegan energy bar from Trader Joe’s, but wouldn’t you much rather have a Cobb salad and lentil soup (not the best example, sorry)?

[size=100:dbd0h7r2](NEVER hook up with a Trashy Crybaby.)

[size=133:hz8cuq5y]Interview: Comedian Eugene Mirman on affable Conchords and chunky youth
By Matthew Odam | Monday, May 4, 2009, 05:43 PM







[size=100:hz8cuq5y]Eugene Mirman has become one of those rare things in the indie entertainment world — both ubiquitous and fairly anonymous. He’s shared the stage with indie rockers such as Modest Mouse and Yo La Tengo, has a slew of videos populating the Web, been seen up and down the TV dial, and has even penned a satirical self-help book, ‘The Will to Whatevs.’

But Mirman’s most mainstream visibility has come courtesy of his work on HBO’s musical comedy ‘Flight of the Conchords.’ He is currently opening for the show’s eponymous stars Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement. We caught up with Mirman by phone to discuss his comedy influences and fat kids.



The M.O.: There seems more than ever to be a clan of comedians working together on all sorts of projects, from TV to stand-up to Web content. Can you talk about having that rich peer group with which to work and is there any sense of competition among you?

Mirman: I would say that it actually isn’t really that competitive. I’m only really speaking from my point of view, in the sense that it’s not like I’m going to get the same role as Kristin Schaal would get, or Aziz (Ansari) or somebody. In terms of collaborating in the different shows and things, it’s fun. I have nothing to compare it to. It’s hard to say, ‘it’s amazing, unlike this other thing.’ For me, that has been my career … it’s been collaborating with and knowing these people. But I think it’s amazing. I think I happen to be in place with tons of incredibly funny people making very, very interesting stuff.


To what do you trace your absurdist sensibility and humor?

I think just a lot of the things I liked as a kid. I guess I don’t know. I wanna say the Velvet Underground, but they’re not particularly absurd (laughs).


What was the idea behind your book “The Will to Whatevs” and who were you trying to help, Eugene?

Fat kids.


What do fat kids need help with?

I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure this book will help them.


What has the experience like working with Bret and Jemaine?

Working on the show was super fun. They’re just genuinely extremely sweet guys and very, very funny. But touring with them is unbearable because they’re just so polite. Like, come on, stop being so nice to those around you, it’s exhausting. I get it, you’re a really great person.


You’ve been to Austin a thousand times. Is there anything you look forward to doing when you get the chance to come to town?

I actually do love Austin. When I think of places I would potentially live, Austin is definitely one of them. There’s a place that used to be called Ben’s Barbecue that’s my favorite. Even though it changed its name (J. Kelly’s Barbecue), the recipes are all the same. So I go there and I try to go to Waterloo Records, and sort of just in general, to cute little shops and weird places.

giggletycoon wrote:

[size=133:z6lc17u7]Eugene Mirman’s tips for opening bands

[size=100:z6lc17u7]by Sean ONeal April 28, 2009

While it’s hardly a guaranteed ticket to stardom, opening for a popular headlining act is a sweet gig: You get the same exposure, most of the perks, and a bigger cut of the door than you’d ever get on your own, and audience expectations are so low, there’s nowhere to go but up. Of course, not everyone knows how to behave as an opening act, which is why The A.V. Club asked comedian Eugene Mirman—who will be warming up crowds before Flight Of The Conchords on their current tour—how to make the most of reflected glory.

Hanging out backstage

Eugene Mirman: We have five different dressing rooms, and a place where we make people wait that we never plan on talking to. There’s a room for beer, and then another room with the glasses for the beer. It’s a real pain. There’s one room that’s antipasti, and another one for salad—which they unnecessarily distinguish. They put the hot stuff in one room, cold stuff in another. Imagine, like, a Papa Gino’s buffet spread throughout a castle, with really dim office lighting. And then there’s the 'uck-room.

The A.V. Club: What goes on in the 'uck-room?

EM: Piles of 'ucking. It’s basically just a lot of beanbag chairs with people 'ucking on them. It’s very uncomfortable. As the opening act, I have to help put it together.

AVC: When trashing dressing rooms, do you start with the headliner’s?

EM: Actually, usually the only thing in your dressing room is a sad, crappy couch, so it would just be depressing to make it even more crappy.

Taking advantage of the rider

EM: I have my own rider, but it’s easier to get it done if you put it on the headlining band’s. So that’s where I put the roller-skate shoes, crossbows, the saffron. I travel with my own wok, so I need lots of spices and oils. I always need fresh wasabi root. I have seafood flown in. The expensive stuff always goes on their rider when they’re not looking. Nobody’s going to get mad at Flight Of The Conchords for having $2,500 worth of saffron delivered.

Getting groupies

EM: Here’s a trick I learned long ago: Write your phone number in mirror-writing on their breasts while they’re distracted—say, by the chaos of fame—so when they go home and they’re washing their breasts in the sink, they’ll look up and go, “Holy shii, I have Eugene’s number.” This is also how I find love.

AVC: Do you find that being an opening act makes you second-tier to groupies?

EM: No, people want a piece of whatever they can get. But you also don’t want a lunatic, which is why I communicate by writing a message that can only be deduced in a mirror.

Warming up the audience

EM: It’s important to prepare them for the worst in life. People come to forget their problems, and it’s my job, right before I leave, to go, “Don’t forget: You’re going through a divorce and there’s a recession.” It’s always good to end on a pensive note.

During the headliner

EM: I’m usually off building stuff, cooking things, making to-do lists. It’s my quiet time to reflect. Otherwise, it’s just mayhem back there. All that free spaghetti.

AVC: When is the right time to run back onstage for an impromptu duet?

EM: Unfortunately, I don’t really sing, so the best I could do would be to run back out and light my arm on fire. The perfect time to do that would be right after the last encore. I like the idea of people milling about trying to leave, and then they see a man running back onstage screaming, with his arm on fire. That’s how you create an Internet hubbub. The blogosphere erupts, Facebook unfurls its claws, and people say, “Man, we should have stayed.”

AVC: Do you look at being an opener as a game of one-upmanship?

EM: I think of it more as a concerto, even though I don’t know what a concerto sounds like. It has movements, right? It’s like a delicious play, one that can be truly savored. I’m the soup and they’re the lamb’s leg. You can’t just go right to the lamb. You’d be like, “Whoa, this definitely needs some soup.” Lighting my arm on fire, that’s the crème brûlée. Basically, I’m a sorbet that you can’t get out of your head.

chrissycubana wrote:"
follow your dreams... unless your dreams are stupid"


wise words... from a wise man.

chrissycubana wrote:"
follow your dreams... unless your dreams are stupid"


wise words... from a wise man.

[size=100:4d8k2kz6]Kristen Schaal and Eugene Mirman are perhaps best known for their work on the HBO series "
Flight of the Conchords"
- here they are at New York's Grand Central Station interviewing each other before their gig at Boston's Wilbur Theatre on June 27th.

[size=150:lwyll3wg]iPOD SHUFFLE
[size=100:lwyll3wg]WHAT POPS UP WHEN YOU PUT SOMEONE’S MUSIC ON RANDOM

By Nick A. Zaino III
Globe Correspondent / June 26, 2009


EUGENE MIRMAN, comedian

[size=100:lwyll3wg]Considering his gig on “Flight of the Conchords’’ and his tours with Modest Mouse and John Wesley Harding, it’s not surprising that Mirman’s 32G iPod Touch is packed with cool, eclectic music like the Soft Boys, the Elevator Drops, and a soon-to-be-released album from indie singer-songwriter Alina Simone. What surprises Mirman when he shuffles for us is what doesn’t come up. “I have random Russian folk music,’’ he says, “tons of random phone calls and things, various songs of mine that I did for ‘Crooning Child.’ ’’ You may get a sample of that tomorrow night (he sometimes plays videos or audio files onstage) when Mirman performs at the Comedy Connection Wilbur Theatre with fellow “Conchords’’ actor Kristen Schaal. (Show starts at 7 p.m., and tickets are $20-$25 at or 617-931-2000.)

1. “Be a Lemonhead (Beautiful Junkie),’’ the Elevator Drops

2. “Have a Heart Betty (I’m Not Fireproof),’’ the Soft Boys

3. “Stockholm Syndrome,’’ Yo La Tengo

4. “5D (Fifth Dimension),’’ the Byrds

5. “Cruel to Be Kind,’’ Nick Lowe

6. “The Modern Age,’’ the Strokes

7. “I Love LA,’’ Randy Newman

8. “Waiting for the Storm,’’ Alina Simone

9. “The Book of Right On,’’ Joanna Newsom

10. “Warchild,’’ Jethro Tull

Total songs: 6,349

Glad we missed: Nothing in particular embarrasses Mirman. “It’s not like I have, secretly, 2,000 Barbra Streisand albums. If I had that, I would be probably someone who liked it and in no way would feel bad if that came up.’’

blondesnotbombs wrote:Eugene's new album, God is a 12 Year-Old Boy with Aspergers ( ), will be out on October 6.