Paul of the McDermott Variety
By Sean Keenan
The first time I remember seeing Paul McDermott was back in 1998 when he was hosting Good News Week as a slick, modern looking comedian who’s humour at the time did not fit in with my immature style. I was only 13 at the time and I wouldn’t think about him again until I was 19. That was the period when my mother developed an insatiable appetite for McDermotts tongue in check quips whilst hosting Strictly Dancing - a cornerstone, in my opinion, in the development of the dance craze which was soon to become ubiqutious across the television airwaves. You need only look at Dancing With The Stars’ first host, Daryl Summers, to get a jist on how difficult the role of host is. Whereas Summers approach to hosting was comparable to watching your father, no, your grandfather, cringeworthily jiving to the DWTS intro music (something he used to do on Hey Hey It’s Saturday - except the nineties were over) and having no sense of comic timing, McDermott was the indie man’s comedic heroine. Both aired at around the same time and in most quarters it seemed, critics agreed McDermott was the unsung hero.
Still, all this made little impression on me back in the heedy days of 2004. To me, Paul McDermott was now someone who my mother could like, which hurt his credibility with me. I thought of him as a well dressed, tongue-in-cheek, mum-loves-him kind of guy. I thought Shaun Micallef did it better personally. More surreal. More crazy. After that, I vaguely recall seeing him on a few ABC programs, and remember his good mate Mikey Robbins losing a metric tonne in weight. It wasn’t until 2013 that something began to change. A workmate of mine invited me over on a boring and lonely Saturday night to get pissed while watching a VHS converted to DVD concert of the Doug Anthony All Stars. Thankfully my friend didn’t take advantage of me (I feel thats what I implied there). I wasn’t overly impressed at his suggestion, but having heard of both McDermott and Tim Ferguson, I reluctantly agreed.
It’s one of those shell shock moments when someone who’s always been in the deep background of your abstract existence, suddenly enters centre stage and metamorphosis’s right before of your eyes. Firstly, Paul was young. Late 20’s young. You could clearly tell it was him too. The man I thought of as a dressed-like-James Bond-wannabe was sporting an awesome, half tattered, military style dress code not too dissimilar to an SS uniform - complete with a rats tail. Swearing like a trooper, Australian accent exaggerated and being very involved with humiliating the audience, all I could do was sit there gobsmacked. This was years before Little Britain Live’s lunatic antics with their audiences. DAAS were there first and were more manic then I could have possibly imagined. What a time 1989 must have been. Woman running around, breasts bearing, distasteful politically incorrect jokes, violence, and some crude beautifully harmonistic songs that would make your parents weep. This was indie youth culture at it’s best.
To cap it all off, after the concert concluded, my friend searched them on YouTube and the knock out punch was delivered. A richly layered acoustic version of Marvin Gaye’s ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’. An audience member appeared to have tear in her eye as they sang. All three members looking straight ahead, never flinching, still dressed in there irreverent costumes, Paul’s belt buckle reading ‘SEX’. Fucking magic. I later found out through watching their Big Gig DVD that this performance was the one and only serious songs they performed on the show and it came completely out of left field. Paul’s indie cred, depleted through my ignorance of watching Strictly Dancing, was restored.
When I become interested in someone, I research them in detail. Im a bit obsessive like that. McDermott usurped Shaun Micallef as my favourite Australian comedian. Now in his early 50’s, he seems to have mellowed. When I put that statement to my mother she said ‘Erm, somewhat. You can see he’s still a bit mad’. And I was to find out that madness while watching a YouTube clip of The Great Debate in 2013. Mad as a fucking hatter. It almost seemed like the host was wanting him to shut the hell up and get off the stage such was his lunacy. It made me smile. Maybe I’ll still have my insane verve when I’m that age.
In time I learnt of Paul’s love of painting and his artworks. I thoroughly enjoyed watching his slightly more serious side in an episode of ‘Who Do You Think You Are’ on SBS one rainy night. Paul had relatives who were drinkers of the vicious sort? Yeah that figures. Bit like mine. Of course Paul McDermott was a radio announcer (albeit briefly) on Triple J. (My fantasy) Of course he directed a short surreal children’s movie (another dream of mine). Of course he’s done all that cool stuff.
Tim Ferguson, Paul McDermott & Richard Fidler
It just goes to show you that you can’t judge someone without getting to know them properly. I wish I had a chance to enjoy Paul on Good News Week when it was topical. I wish I could go back into the recent past and watch ‘The Sideshow’ on Saturday night instead of pissing my money up against a brick wall or in some shady characters crusty looking toilet bowl. Unfortunately I missed all of that. In late November however, an announcement on the DAAS Facebook page stated the recently reformed comedy trio would extend their tour to my city of residence, Townsville. I would finally get the chance to see my indie hero in his full madcap glory. What a buzz. Dreams do come true sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment