Homepage News Reviews - Acts - Shows - Screen - Radio - Books - Clubs Interviews Awards 2006 Edinburgh 2005 - Reviews - Blog - Previews Features Archive Awards 2005 Edinburgh 2004: - Previews - Shows - Diary Guestbook Forum © Emporium Of Mirth 2004 Editor: Lauren Murphy Reporters: Fiona Wilkie Natalie Joanne	Emporium of Mirth Adam Bloom Adam Bloom is the most energetic comedian I’ve ever seen. In fact, he wears me out hearing him talk. Watching him perform is like a workout for the eyes as he scampers from one side of the stage to the other like a nervous rabbit. It’s all incredibly endearing, and as he practically runs into a pub in Soho to meet Lauren and myself, I’m pleased he seems so enthusiastic to be interviewed. Adam has just finished recording the second series of his Radio 4 show, The Problem With Adam Bloom, six fifteen minute programmes in which he, amongst other things, improvises about problems of various audience members. Lauren starts by asking him if there’s any chance of it transferring to TV. “It would be nice if it did. I think the first series was more appropriate for television than the second series, because I reconstructed events from my life. Therefore, they were more scenes with sound effects, and it was less monologue. But I’ve accepted that things generally do two or three series before they go to television, if they ever do. Also, there’s no fifteen minute slots, so we won’t be able to go for a series of fifteen minutes, unless I made it half an hour, and then maybe go with that.” He forces himself back on to the point. “So, anyway, to answer the question, I don’t think this last series is a TV show, no. It’s a little bit unambitious of me to write a radio show that isn’t televisual on the back of a first series that was televisual. I go for the good thing in the moment. Some people are very ambitious in the long term, and I go, ‘what’s good?’.” One episode consisted of Adam’s problems with his own friends, some of whom were interviewed for the show. Lauren enquires as to whether he lost any of his friends for the sake of ‘what’s good’ in terms of comedy. “No. I pissed one of them off, the one who always recommended films in a way that sort of suggested he was better than me. You know, that sort of person who’s got an air of superiority when they talk about anything. Sort of like, ‘you wouldn’t understand, but... here’s a good film.’ I’d rather write a crap film than appreciate a good film! At least I’ve done something creative myself. I don’t think appreciating something makes you an artist, it just makes you a viewer. But anyway, I’m going way off the point now!” We tactfully guide him back to the original question. “Yeah, I nearly lost a friend, Chris the artist, because he turned up in a bad mood. He said it was cruel to make someone wait a week- I interviewed them one after the other, so I had to wait a week until I could get them all together! So they all started to stew on what the question was gonna be, and then they all started to question themselves as human beings as regards what they could have done wrong to me... I’ve known Chris since I was four, so he’s going, ‘what in the last twenty-nine years have I done wrong to upset Adam that he could bring up?’ So that upset him.” I decide to change the subject to something more pleasant. I ask Adam whether he’s looking to get any awards at this year’s Edinburgh Festival. “If you go to Edinburgh hoping to get an award... firstly, if you get it, then you’ve predicted it, so there’s not that much excitement, and if you don’t then you’re very disappointed. In 1998, I thought I was gonna get nominated for the Perrier Award, because I got three 5-star reviews, I sold out two days in advance, and I got no Perrier nomination, and I was... I felt like a relative had died. In fact, I was so upset I killed my Dad!” He looks pointedly at us to make sure we understand this last bit was a joke. “So, no, I’ve made that mistake now. I’m going up to Edinburgh solely for the purpose of doing an hour’s show every night to an audience who likes comedy.” I ask if there’s any sneak preview information about what the show will be about. “I won’t give too much away, but I’m going on as my doppelganger. There’s a comedy hero of mine who I actually am the spit of...” at this point, Adam delves around in his bag for an electronic organiser, upon which he brings up a picture of Harpo Marx. “So, seven, maybe eight minutes of my show will be as Harpo Marx, who doesn’t speak. And then I’m gonna be talking through the years of my career. So, the audience arrive, Harpo comes on and does a warm-up, and then Harpo, who’s never seen Adam before, it’s explained by the voice-over...” Adam stops as he realises he’s giving away far too much. So, skipping an in-depth description of the entire beginning to the show, Adam continues. “I suppose there’s not a real theme to the show... actually, I believe life’s a theme. Life as seen by one person is a theme. Coz everything that comes out of my head is hopefully unique to me... if it’s not, it wouldn’t be a good joke. When three or four comics do the same joke on the circuit, you think, ‘how unoriginal is your thought process?’. So, I suppose, the theme is stuff that comes out of Adam Bloom’s head.” It’s obvious how easily distracted Adam can get from simply having a conversation with him. I suggest it must be difficult to stick to a routine, especially when there is so much opportunity for interaction with the audience. “Yeah yeah yeah. I don’t do themed shows because I’d never stick to it. But I’ve got points where stuff kind of pulls back and ties in, and a conclusion to the show. But I can go off on ten minute tangents if I want, drop the rest of my material if I have to, and just make sure I cut back to the final point. If I do that, it allows me to still be loose and free, and have some kind of structure to the show. But not a proper theme...” He points at our table; “like an hour on ashtrays or something!” Lauren points out how ridiculous the recent discovery of a “comedy formula” is. Adam agrees. “I mean, you can analyse it to death, and I do, but at the end of the day you can’t really put down on paper why Eddie Izzard’s little mumbles, and why is me looking at the floor, thinking of an ad-lib and looking up and getting excited at the moment I say it, why is that funny? I dunno, maybe you could break it down. There’s suspense because you’re not sure if he’s going to say it, or whatever, but I’d hate to see someone who’s not funny try and copy it with a formula, coz that wouldn’t work.” Leading on from this love of improvisation, I assume aloud that Adam prefers live work to radio or television. “Erm, I prefer doing live stuff because you get to go on as long as you want time wise, yeah. Well, a twenty minute gig in a club is not as long as a radio show recording, but generally there are more rules on television. If you do stand-up on television, they ask you what material you’re gonna open with. If you say, ‘I don’t know’, they look at you like you’re mad. ‘What do you mean, you don’t know? This is a show. That, that, that, that.” Adam does some emphatic hand movements at this point. “So I don’t like that. I’m not trying to be a maverick by saying that, I’m sure most comedians don’t like that. You never saw Ross Noble on the Stand-up Show, did you?” Hmm, no, we didn’t. I tentatively bring up what may be a touchy subject- the notion of some reviewers who insist Adam is very self-centred in his act. Does he agree? “Yes. But the thing is, as long as you’re being funny, it doesn’t matter what you’re talking about. There was a thing I did that was brand new last night [at the recording of The Problem With...] that was about jobs I’ve had and why I got sacked. Now, you could say that was me going, ‘look at how funny I was in that job, look at how funny I was in that job’. I’m pointing out that I have not been able to hold down a job. I’m not saying, ‘I’m so hilarious I can’t hold down a job’, I just don’t fit in to boss-employer order. And, you know, I knew that when I was a kid, I knew I wasn’t gonna have a normal job, because I can’t be told what to do. I’m like, ‘why should I listen to you? Oh, because you’ve got a badge. What if I took the badge off and put it on me, would you have to listen to me? And who gave you the badge?’ I suppose you could say it was self-centred, but at the end of the day I was sharing a little part of my life. But then again, the very notion of being on stage is self-centred. If Ross Noble’s talking about weasels or lazer beams, then that’s not self-centred because he’s not a weasel or a lazer beam, right...” Huh, what was I saying about being easily distracted?! “So, if he’s talking about weasels and lazer beams, that in itself is self-centred in the sense that that’s what he wants to do. You’re going onstage telling a whole load of strangers what you wanna say! I think it would be completely self-centred if the audience started to have no connection with what you’re doing.” Adam starts to refill our glasses starting with his own, before realising what he’s doing. “I don’t think I’m self-centred in a... in a pour myself a drink first way!” We assure him our glasses are full enough anyway. “Here’s the thing, if I stop being funny, that would be truly self-centred because I’d be standing on stage just going, ‘me me me me me, oh, sorry, no-one’s laughing’. If people have paid to laugh and I’m making them laugh, then I’m probably doing a good job. I mean, going back to Ross...” I’m having trouble mentally keeping up with Adam’s train of thought. “I don’t think Ross could talk about himself, because I don’t think he’s as in touch with himself as I am. You know, we all do what we can do, and my niche is expressing myself about how I feel.” Seeing that Adam has not been able to hold down a job, I ask him what he would do if he had the capacity and the choice. There’s no hesitation. “I’d be a teacher, a primary school teacher. I’m gonna see David Hannigan, who supported Ed Byrne on tour recently, I’m seeing his son today, I got these...” He shows us some comic books. “And I’m going to a barbecue at Windsor’s, he’s a compere, and I got his son those...” More toys come out of the bag. Self-centred? I think not. “Who doesn’t enjoy kids’ company? Very few people don’t, I suppose. I’ve got a two-year-old niece...” this time, out comes the organiser, and a picture of his niece which he proudly shows off. “That’s Olivia.” He snaps himself back to reality. “Anyway... yeah, I can never be bored when I’m around kids because of their energy and their enthusiasm.” Adam seems to have hit the nail on the head. He reminds me of a great big kid who gets excited about the very prospect of performing to a group of people-perhaps a quality all comedians should possess. “I’m a bit scared of being a dad, I don’t want to be a dad, it’s too much...” Responsibility? “Yeah! People do it so haphazardly, it seems. You know, you can’t go back. It’s like the room you’re going into only has a handle on one side. If I were to be able to work with kids, then I’d be able to have all of that without the proper responsibility of actually bringing someone up properly. I like to have an influence on kids. Whenever I see any of my friends’ kids, I always do my best to make some impression. I just don’t want the responsibility of being the sole... oh God!” He looks genuinely fearful at the thought. “Just terrifying!” To go back to his chosen career, I ask him whether he prefers performing abroad or in good old Blighty. “I love Australia. Yeah, I love Melbourne. It’s easier to perform to a foreign country because you’re different. Suddenly you’re, you know, almost the equivalent of the gay comic on the bill. You can get a gay comic, or a black comic, or even a female comic to a certain extent, but then again, they get a tougher time from audiences, so that’s kind of swings and roundabouts, because they’re the different ones on the bill, but the audience has got prejudice to them, so in actual fact, that’s not such an advantage. But I often watch a black comic or a gay comic playing to a white middle-class audience and think, you know, the crowd are a little bit excited because you don’t look like everyone on the bill. I’m a white middle-class 33-year-old male, I’ve gotta be funny! They’re not gonna go, ‘ooh, look, he’s different’, but that does help people. I can’t imagine a straight Graham Norton doing the style he does. You’ve got John Inman before him, Larry Grayson before him, Julian Clary, somewhere in the middle. You know, there always has to be a comedy poof.” I can’t remember what the original question was, but thankfully Adam drags himself back to the point. “So anyway, yeah, I went to New York. I did a local spot in San Francisco. I stormed it. Now, I might have stormed it because I was good that night, but the crowd were almost hypnotised by my voice. This happened in Montreal, I did “Just For Laughs” a couple of times, and I did two shows where I was the only person on the bill who wasn’t American or Canadian. They loved it when I opened my mouth! Absolutely loved it, they looked like they were in love! My voice isn’t easy on the ear, it’s got quite clipped sounds and I speak quite fast, but they melted! Someone like Boothby Graffoe, he’s got a lovely gentle voice, God knows what he’s gonna get out there! You know, tall, handsome, dark-haired Englishman with a very gentle, soft Northern accent...So yeah, I would say that it’s nice to perform at home because you’re just being taken for what you are, but going to another country, you’ve almost got that gimmick factor, and you can rely on that a little bit. It’s nice to surf on it. It’s kind of a Pro Plus thing, it gives you wings. Is that Pro Plus? Red Bull!” I enquire about other comedians Adam has most appreciated working with. “I love Phil Kay. I love Sean Lock. Er... that’s about it.” Fair enough. “Phil Kay, when he’s on form, is the funniest man in the world.” Lauren asks whether Adam would consider working with Brendan Burns some more after their pairing on the soon-to-be broadcast radio show. Adam seems surprised at the question. "Has anything been leaked out about that?" It seems Lauren’s accidentally stumbled upon an exclusive. “Well, on the strength of that one recording, we’re gonna do a couple of double-act appearances in Edinburgh, and also, we’re gonna try and write a TV pilot together. Because I felt like it was almost like we’d been doing it for years together. But that was the first time we’d been on stage together. Just the two of us alone. It just seemed to click. You’d think that we’re a bit too similar. You know, we’re both quite alpha male-ish, we’re both, ‘look at me, look at me!’ But somehow we compliment each other. Because if I say something after him, the wordiness of it seems to come across, and if he says something after me, the confidence, the inyourfaceness of it comes across.” I think Adam’s just invented a new word. In a vague attempt at a conclusion, I ask him if there are any future projects in line after Edinburgh. “I’ve disciplined myself to write. If I’ve got a deadline, I can really excel with regard to prolificity, if that’s a word.” It seems Adam is writing his own dictionary this afternoon. “So, I wouldn’t mind writing either a sitcom pilot or a short film, and seeing if I can get someone to budget that for me. Or maybe budget it myself. I dunno how much I’ve got!” Lauren asks if he’s considering going down the route that so many comedians are taking nowadays, writing a novel. “I’ve never read a book in my life. I can’t concentrate. I’ve read fact, but not fiction. So, if I wrote a book, it would probably be a bit weird having no understanding of the structure of books. I probably wouldn’t know where to start. But if I did, it would be quite an interesting selling point from a literary agent’s point of view, because they could go, ‘this writer’s never read a book’, so it would be almost a purist kind of order. Even though it’s two pages long! So that’s not really my interest, no. I’d love to write a sitcom though. I love Alan Partridge, the second series, the one where he lived in a travel tavern, blew me away. And if I could, in my lifetime, write something half as funny as that, I’d be able to die happy.” After all that, I feel like I need a lie down. Talking to Adam is exhausting but incredibly satisfying and insightful. And he’s not at all self-centred. Quick Fire Questions Best Venue It’s joint three with the Comedy Store, Up The Creek in Greenwich and The Stand in Glasgow. Best/Worst Heckle The Comedy Cafe in Old Street, I was dying, and I stupidly said ‘any questions?’, and a woman said, ‘any jokes?’. Which hurt. Ones to Watch Russell Howard. Ones to Avoid Oh, I couldn’t say that! Adam was interviewed by Nat and Lauren, Summer 2004 For more information, go to Adam's site RSS  Printable version	Visit our Siamese Twin Sister Site!