TIM HEIDECKER & THE VERY GOOD BAND w/Kyle Mooney @ Neptune Theatre

It was a Sunday night, and the marquee at the Neptune Theatre read “Tim Heidecker.” It didn’t mention that he’d be performing with his “very good” band, or the inclusion of comedian/actor/director, Kyle Mooney on the bill. Simply the name “Tim Heidecker” and nothing else appeared on the sign illuminated over 45th street in Seattle‘s U-District. Passersby might have been hard-pressed to guess what the night’s events would consist of based on name alone. With such a varied and prolific career, even those familiar with Heidecker‘s work could understandably be confused by his booking at the historic venue. I’d seen him perform as recently as August and I still wasn’t 100% certain what to expect.

Heidecker‘s range and evolution have been fascinating to witness. It’s been twenty years since he first entered our radar alongside partner, Eric Wareheim, when their animated web short, Tom Goes To The Mayor was developed into a show for Adult Swim. The follow-up, Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! was a breakout hit for the comedy duo that established their trademark aesthetic of merging hallucinogenic Lynchian vignettes and quick-cut retro glitches into public access fever dreams. Heidecker and Wareheim took the Awesome Show on the road as a live tour (we attended), and released Tim & Eric’$ Billion Dollar Movie. Around that time, it was difficult to imagine either of them outside of this ultra-specific world they had presented to us, let alone as highly successful, multi-faceted individuals separate from one another. Since then Tim has gone on to make cameos as memorable wingnuts on shows like Workaholics and I Think You Should Leave, play straight-man supporting characters in over-the-top comedies (Bridesmaids, East Bound And Down), and even take on more challenging complex acting roles (The Comedy, US). He’s done full standup tours portraying a hack comic version of himself. This form of anti-comedy is born from a similar spirit as Neil Hamburger, the alias of Heidecker‘s Ant-Man & Wasp co-star, Gregg Turkington with whom he created the 80s action TV-inspired series, Decker, and co-hosts the parody film review program, On Cinema. These days, one of Heidecker‘s most active and visible projects is the weekly call-in show/podcast, Office Hours Live. Live incarnations of Office Hours and On Cinema have also been presented as stage shows. So, of course, when you see Tim Heidecker‘s name outside of a venue, the obvious assumption would be that he’s playing with his rock band.

The writer/comedian started putting out albums in 2011, but it took me a while to pay much attention. Whether the presentation suggested them being a bit “too jokey” and/or they were released as part of the duo Heidecker and Wood, they only peripherally drew my attention. In 2016, Foxygen‘s Jonathan Rado provided additional legitimacy by producing the album In Glendale. Tim quickly followed up with his album of “Trump songs,” Too Dumb For Suicide (Jagjaguwar 2007). After the online MAGA crowd retaliated by spreading the rumor that his wife left him, the songwriter responded by bringing back Rado to produce What The Broken Hearted Do… a well-received album of classic rock and AM gold breakup gems tinged with elements of Neil Young, George Harrison, Harry Nilsson, and Warren Zevon. Heidecker‘s skill as a songwriter continued to grow with each album. When he announced the wonderful Fear Of Death in 2020, it featured vocals and co-production by Natalie Mering aka Weyes Blood, and contributions by brothers Brian and Michael D’Addario of The Lemon Twigs. Co-produced by Weyes Blood keyboardist, Drew Erickson, the project included bassist, Eliana Athayde (The Blasting Company, Waxahatchee, Weyes Blood); drummer, Josh Adams (Fruit Bats, Cat Power, Bedouine); and guitarist, Connor “Catfish” Gallaher (Calexico, Pearl Charles, Mayo Thompson); all of which now make up Tim Heidecker‘s Very Good Band. In 2022, the LP, High School arrived with contributions and co-production by Mac Demarco and Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats), and appearances by Rado and Kurt Vile. Last year, the core of The Very Good Band returned for Slipping Away, a solid new effort they are currently on tour supporting.

Witnessing Tim and his band at last year’s THING Festival gave me a preview of the general dynamic of the live act. The sunny afternoon set at the sparsely attended festival made for a laid-back performance that balanced lighthearted banter with genuine musicianship and quality songwriting. I wondered how the addition of Kyle Mooney might impact the Seattle show. One security guard assumed the SNL alum would also have a band, but that seemed weird. I overheard a stage manager speaking to someone else on staff, so I interjected. She explained that Tim would be going on first. Mooney would then take the stage as an intermission before the band returned to finish things off. She was pulling this information from a printout, but appeared slightly perplexed, herself. Heidecker would refer to this unorthodox schedule as switching up the show flow and “trimming the fat.”

The logo of a smiling mushroom cloud appeared on the large projection screen at the back of the stage. A billowing American flag soon replaced it as the “Star Spangled Banner” began to play… sort of. Lyrics like “red stripes were all there” captioned the video; off just enough to generate laughs and set the tone. After the song, the screen displayed an iMessage being typed by Tim from the side stage. He explained that he was “super shy,” claimed that Kyle called him “the S word” and then asked for applause to coerce him out. Milking the bit, he requested that the house cut the lights, but they were soon back on and the show was underway.

The band started things off strong with “Well’s Running Dry.” The lead single from the new album speaks to the delicate balance of Heidecker‘s work in which sincerity and vulnerability co-exist with sarcasm and absurdist humor. More than just a tune about writer’s block, the urge to express oneself, and the obstacles of crafting a song, “Well’s Running Dry” addresses feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy. The most revealing section comes in the final verse:

Now I got a band
And they can make me sound better
Bring the vocals down in the mix
I can hide
Behind their beautiful playing
All of my failings they can fix
(take it Connor)

The song ends with Gallaher taking a tasteful solo on his pedal steel, emphasizing the fact that his band is indeed “very good.” Much in the way that Tim speaks about hiding himself behind the talents of his cohorts, that deeper message is wrapped in a bright, inviting folk-rock number with warm backing vocals and a great chorus that’s easy to sing along to.

Next came “Buddy,” the opening track from High School. After penning a catalog of material touching on such adulthood themes as treading through middle-age, and his fictional divorce, Heidecker assembled an album honoring his years growing up as a Pennsylvania teen in the early ’90s. A bouncy, uplifting number with dextrous guitar work and a friendly title, “Buddy” is yet another Trojan horse in the singer-songwriter’s repertoire. The lyrics are written as a message to a high school friend who turned to substance abuse as an escape from his tumultuous home life. It sounds as if the subject has passed on and Heidecker is questioning if there’s more he could have done and if he let him down by losing touch after moving away from his hometown. This is a track that can float by like an island breeze with its weightiness undetected, but try sitting with the lyrics, and “Buddy“ lands like a gut punch. This tune is evidence that the comedian is more than just capable of stringing a few words and chords together; he’s actually a really great songwriter.

Just like he did at THING, Tim introduced “Trippin’ (Slippin’)” by explaining that the song is about taking mushrooms and asking if anyone in the crowd was currently on them. The lyrics and title are a bit on the nose with this one – the opening line is literally “Trippin on mushrooms” – but the directness is refreshing. Any subtlety exists in the experience it relays of a casual day smiling by the pool, unfocused on worries, and fully embracing a moment with a fleeting lifespan. The twist is that there is no twist. Nothing turns dark, fantastic, or runs afoul; there’s not even a comedown. Our hero is just “Ridin’ on the good vibes / With nothin’ much to say.” On its face, writing a song about tripping on drugs sounds like a juvenile venture, but there’s a maturity to simply offering a glimpse into a moment to be experienced and leaving it at that.

The set continued with songs about sleeping on the streets, the climate crisis, and cleaning up dog and baby shit, before concluding with an ode to late GOP presidential candidate and Tea Party member, Herman Cain. “Lord Cain” appeared on Heidecker‘s debut, Cainthology (Songs In The Key Of Cain), a concept album written from the perspective of a lunatic conspiracy theorist obsessed with the politician. “Lord Cain” refers to him as the second coming and sings of his crucifixion. As they performed it, Herman‘s smiling disembodied head floated in front of the pearly gates in a Terry Gilliam-style animation. Cainthology was ridiculous, but in typical Heidecker fashion, the proceeds went to VIP Medical Clinics for Abused Children and Community Mental Health Center.

The band took a break and Kyle Mooney came out in a Burton t-shirt, DC skate shoes, khaki cargo shorts (multiple sizes too big), and a San Diego Padres cap. Behind him was a photo of the sun setting on a Southern California shoreline with palm trees and beach homes in the background. He introduced himself as “Todd,” his character from the recurring Inside SoCal sketch he and longtime friend/collaborator, Beck Bennett, brought to SNL when they joined the cast in 2013. Inside SoCal is delivered like a hyper-localized public access news program filmed in a garage. The Inside SoCal logo and graphics are hand-drawn, while the hosts and reporters are all low-energy, weed-smoking board sports enthusiasts relying on terminology like “sick” and “baller.” Not only are the regional references incredibly niche, but the “news stories” they report on all revolve around friends in their immediate circle, their relatives, or people they went to school with. They tackle hard-hitting stories like Jessica Cabarra‘s breast reduction surgery, pursue “ill investigations” to uncover mysteries like why Rigoberto’s Mexican Eatery no longer has the red salsa, and do on-the-scene features asking big questions like “Is art gangster?“

Mooney Todd discussed some of the SoCal locals by name, occasionally checking in to see if we knew any of them. He then announced that he was looking to make some new homies – I believe he credited this to so many homies getting married and having babies. This chill fool removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket and read a typed letter listing some personal information, credentials, and interests. It began with, “To whom it may fucken concern or whatever” and explained that he is almost 40 (“I am oooold haha“), thinks family is “very important” (“I believe it is where you come from“), and that he loves food (“fuckin carnitas/carne asada,” “bomb ass” pasta “with the fucking vodka sauce,” etc.) and having fun. He ended by stating, “My question to you is do you want to be my homie?“

Mooney approached the audience to question those who displayed interest in his proposition. The crowd was expectedly awkward with terrible answers that made the routine painfully uncomfortable, but there’s something about witnessing a skilled comedian operating without a net. One woman handed him a Taco Bell burrito on his way back to the stage. At that point, “Todd” felt it was time to “get the fucking fools back here.” Tim returned by himself and, when he reached for a handshake, Kyle sunk the fast food into his palm. As the pair examined the wrapper, the burrito rolled out, landing on the stage. Heidecker picked it up and threw it into the audience.

Having the comedians on stage together was one of the most fascinating parts of the evening. Seattle marked the last of only 4 dates involving Mooney, who clearly took the gig for the experiment and the experience. The Y2K director refused to break character and asked the headliner why he wasn’t doing “the Tom And Eric shit” that everyone prefers. Turning moderately aggressive, Heidecker attempted to expose his friend as the actor “Kyle Mooney” just playing a character. He demanded appreciation for giving him the “opportunity” to go on tour with him. Tim broke into laughter at points in their interaction, but Todd endured.

I can’t say what percentage of this segment was improvised, but I love that Heidecker is always willing to adapt to whatever best serves the art and the moment. As a comedy duo, he and Eric were never the standard double-act in which one consistently played the straight-man against their eccentric funny man counterpart. Instead, their roles have shifted depending on what the project or particular skit required. Quite often, they involve characters too dynamic to be restricted to either archetype. Tim is an absurdist if anything. He’s a fan of Andy Kaufman, who was always dedicated to the larger vision, regardless of how he might be perceived within it. Kyle‘s history is in improv and sketch comedy, so we were privileged to see them bounce off one another.

Once Mooney exited, Heidecker presented a PowerPoint presentation highlighting YouTube comments from random unrelated videos. From there, he sat at the piano, announcing he would be doing a song from “Tom and Eric.” The crowd joined in on the chorus of “I warned you, I don’t want spaghetti again” taken from a bizarre karaoke video/skit about a man demanding a broader selection of dinner options from his wife.

Eliana Athayde and Connor “Catfish” Gallaher returned for “Someone Who Can Handle You.” Connor summoned syrupy notes from his pedal steel while Eliana shared vocal duties on the objectively beautiful and timeless ballad about being broken down and breaking up. The transition from goofball singalong to heartfelt love song emphasizes the mercurial nature of a Tim Heidecker show.

The rest of the band filed in and an audience member was brought up as a prop for “Like I Do,” a rocker about the hesitation of accepting a marriage proposal made on a stadium jumbotron and allowing a government institution to ruin a perfectly good relationship. This was followed by “Property,” which imagines that all cemeteries will eventually be appropriated for mixed-use real estate. Both are terrific tunes highlighting Heidecker‘s unique outlook and cleverness as a songsmith. 

Tim announced that they were going to attempt a song they “fuck around with” at soundcheck, warning that it will probably fall apart at some point. They busted out an energetic cover of George Harrison‘s slept-on classic, “Wah-Wah,” and it sounded great. The frontman set things up by confessing that it might be a “little self-indulgent,” before laughing and adding, “This whole thing’s a little self-indulgent isn’t it?“

Heidecker has credited his music career as a byproduct of amassing a collection of songs, not the other way around. Anyone who honestly examines the work on its own merit should recognize that this isn’t some mediocre vanity project. Tim is a tremendous writer and storyteller, and his songs are simply an extension of that. Most people aren’t aware that, when he met Eric Wareheim at film school, they both had aspirations of becoming like Scorsese. The comedy career developed organically, as their more humor-based surrealism gained fans and grew in demand. Artists channel their ideas in any number of directions and mediums. Heidecker has some truly inspired ideas and a number of them are proving most effective in song form. Fortunately, he has the chops to manifest them successfully.

The Very Good Band is comprised of musicians with impressive resumes, but at no point do they feel like hired guns propping up a celebrity playing rock star.  Their fearless leader has baked his admiration for the team right into his lyrics, but the feeling is undoubtedly mutual. Tim‘s a natural frontman who pulls his own weight from commanding the crowd’s attention to busting out respectable guitar solos. I can only draw assumptions from what I’ve witnessed live, in videos, and through the members’ respective Instagram accounts, but the group comes across as a cohesive unit with genuine respect for their band Dad and his material. There is a mutual appreciation and belief in each other’s strengths and talents.

The one band member missing was keyboardist and Office Hours co-host, Vic Berger. Heidecker mentioned that their keyboardist stayed behind after his daughter’s school burned down in the Los Angeles fires. He acknowledged the internal conflict of doing a tour in the wake of such devastation but informed us of a QR code at the merch table that could be used to donate to relief efforts. As a last-minute replacement, keyboard duties were placed in the capable hands of Wilco‘s Mikael Jorgensen.

The night continued with songs covering topics ranging from the world being on fire and searching for hope to a pair of “covers” about golden showers and drinking hot piss by The Yellow River Boys, Heidecker and Turkington‘s urine-themed blues rock project with Maroon 5 guitarist, James Valentine. At one point, the screen showed the classic Silly Symphony “Skeleton Dance” cartoon, which just recently entered public domain. A Koko the Clown cartoon also appeared up there, as did testing footage of an atomic bomb. There were a few false stops when it seemed like the band was playing their final song, only to keep going and do another. Kyle Mooney was brought on stage and presented with an Emerson microwave that appeared to have been swiped from the green room. Ultimately, the show ended with “Trump’s Private Pilot,” a tale in which the title character intentionally nosedives into a field.

As a longtime fan of Heidecker that loves to see him do “the Tom and Eric shit,” it can be difficult to mentally separate the different aspects of the entertainer. When an artist becomes so well known in one field and we see them exploring another, certain questions inherently arise. Would I be interested in what they’re doing if I wasn’t already familiar with their previous work? Are my preconceptions bleeding through and affecting my ability to fully embrace what they’re doing now? In other words, would I buy the Michael Jordan White Sox jersey if he couldn’t slam dunk and, inversely, am I capable of watching him find his footing in a new sport without demanding a grand slam from every at-bat? When it comes to Tim Heidecker, I’m learning that the solution isn’t to try and separate his varying talents at all. There was already music in his comedy, as there are comedic elements in his music and each respective discipline is stronger for it. 

The truth is that I never fully appreciated the depth of Heidecker‘s musical career until I began writing this review. The THING set was a lot of fun, but I left the Neptune Theatre with greater respect for his musicianship, his ability to lead the band, and his deftness in assembling a live show. Still, it’s been the repeated listens and further exploration of the lyrics since that concert that have unveiled a greater complexity to the work. This is true thematically and emotionally, as well as sonically.

I’ve always said that the most important question to ask myself in any review is “do I believe you?” I believe Tim Heidecker. I believe in his intention and I believe in his ability. Are the cheekier songs there to undercut the more serious nature and somber tone of others? Perhaps, to some extent, but I think it’s much simpler than that. If Tim feels compelled to experiment with heavier subject matter or make social commentaries, he can’t concern himself with how others might react. Likewise, if there’s a tune bubbling up in him about guzzling that sweet amber urethral nectar, he can’t worry if it will influence public perception about his legitimacy as a songwriter.

The low expectations that come with being a well-known comedian/actor releasing music is a double-edged sword. If you pull off anything remotely listenable, you’re considered to be doing fairly well. On the downside, nobody expects you to create anything innovative or groundbreaking, and may struggle with recognizing or accepting it if you do. It’s easy to enjoy a Tim Heidecker concert for the energy and humor, the melodies and the rhythms – those are as valid reasons as any – but I compel you to pay closer attention if you haven’t been. What makes Heidecker‘s songs so great is that they are born from a singular voice and a perspective that is uniquely his own. They may utilize a different delivery method, but they are as worthwhile and original as his comedy.