Are you looking for funny? Look no further: I give you Broad City.
I stumbled across this series while youtube stalking Rob Michael Hugel, who as it turned out had done a lot more in the way of directing and editing than his humility betrays in casual conversation. Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson met through UCB in New York, although it’s hard to imagine that they didn’t crawl out of their (separate) wombs side-by-side, working out their first bits in cribs to the delight (or contempt, depending on how delicate the individual’s humor) of maternity ward nurses.
Their webseries, now in development for full-length treatment at FX, paints a portrait of NYC living through a distinctly feminine skew, presenting two perfectly contrasted points of view. My favorite episode so far highlights their ineffable contrast, appropriately, without words:
For their season 2 finale, they got Amy Poehler to do a cameo, which helped get them attention, but what really got them through the door after the foot was there was that these two women have completely unfiltered images of themselves, and an absolute selflessness about sharing their humanity with, well, humanity. They tackle subjects from subway travel to body hair removal, they have great and terrible sex for great and terrible reasons (the combinations vary), and they share this friendship that, depending on which of them you ask, borders on sapphic interest — even without that angle, there’s a deep love flowing between the two that makes you appreciate your own best friend that much more.
Ana and I hit their live show this past Wednesday (right before I did my Red Lion show), and had a great time listening to their breakdown of their internal soundtrack (highlights included Jacbson’s solo rendition of Enya’s “Only Time” for, I’m pretty sure, her soundtrack to receiving oral sex, while Glazer’s counterpoint was a loop of an old-timey voice tagging “I Enjoy Being A Girl” (you kind of have to hear it to understand it, it doesn’t represent any rendition of that song that I know but damn was it funny.)
They also featured a dude by the name of Harmar Superstar, who…. Guys. Holy shitballs:
Just soak it all in. He’s got a new album coming out in February, with a song called “Lady You Shot Me” that adds a power-pop undercurrent to his usual funk-soul fusion. I ran into him on the subway yesterday and just fanblasted him — I couldn’t have been anything but embarrassing with my gushing over how much I dig this dude’s style, and even though he was totally gracious, it was like that recurring nightmare I have where I meet David Cross and he hates me for loving him, because when I like something I can never just thank the person for it and shut the eff up, I have to go into the details (one time, I gushed at Neil Casey for like an hour about a fifteen-second choice process I saw him going through at ASSSSCAT 3000 like four months before).
Anyhow, I hope I gave you enough stuff to click on today: You deserve it.
No, really, you do.
Love and asskissey sounds,
Paul Tab