Waiting for us to catch up: Bo Burnham
Do you know when you see something so comprehensively brilliant and perfectly formed that you’re unsure whether it’s even real or not?
At the end of Bo Burnham’s set I half expected the curtain to be pulled away to reveal a line-up of a couple of dozen shadowy figures all with knowing smiles on their faces, a voice informing us: “Bo’s jokes were brought to you by a hand-picked selection of the finest comedians around, his songs by the world’s most best songwriters, and his haikus by… well, by an extremely good haiku writer. Thanks for enjoying the show folks!”
However, there was no such satisfaction at the show I witnessed, leaving the audience with no other option than to conclude that all of the content for Words, Words, Words somehow came from the mind of an unassuming looking 19-year-old boy, one who already stands head and shoulders over peers two or three times his age. (And not just because he’s around six and a half feet tall.)
At best Burnham’s set might be the closest we’ve come in the comedy world to proof that God does indeed exist – oh, and that he’s got a pretty fine sense of humour. At worst it’s evidence that the Illuminati has finally refined a cloning process that will eventually replace bumble-headed twonks such as myself with human specimens a good few steps higher up in the evolutionary food chain.
How else does someone not yet out of his teens so ably elucidate on how a Shakespearean pornographic sonnet might have read? Burnham is able to mix styles seamlessly, appealing to different demographics within the space of a few seconds, immediately following a particularly crude one-liner about a sexual technique with the simple question: “Do you like impressions?” (Cue some general audience agreement.)
“‘Why?’” (Cue some audience befuddlement.)
“That was Socrates.” (After a second or two to realise the joke, cue audience laughter among those in any way learned about Greek philosophers.)
As though his stand-up isn’t strong enough, Burnham displays Ben Folds-style lyrical dexterity whenever he’s sat at the piano, singing about what’s funny or showing Alanis a thing or two about the meaning of irony. (It's his songs that brought him a huge internet audience a few years ago.) He’s also able to rap skilfully and play the guitar, and can probably master any other musical instrument you can name in the time taken to remove it from its packaging.
Oh, plus there’s those haikus I alluded to earlier – each one with expert enough comic pay-offs that it doesn’t matter whether or not you even know what haikus are – as well as skits about quantum physics, or in-joke references to the likes of Dali. None of it feels like he is over-reaching, and is all sounds as though it should have emerged from a mind far older (in years at least) than his own. Just as Bill Bailey’s character accidentally swallowed The Little Book of Calm in the first episode of Black Books and ingested all of its knowledge, it’s like Burnham has been literally fed some of the best comedy material ever written, as well as swallowing whole enough other literature to facilitate a permanent residence on QI, should he ever desire it.
Burnham isn’t a star in the making: he’s already there, waiting for us to catch up. Finding a degree of internet fame on YouTube when that site was still in its infancy (something he wasn't too far away from himself), he has evolved so much since that even much of his material from last year feels dated in comparison to the consistently superb level he's now hit with Words, Words, Words.
If you’re lucky enough to get a ticket for his show in Edinburgh this month, you’re catching a glimpse of a future phenomenon (no wonder he’s already been tapped up by Hollywood comedy figurehead Judd Apatow to write a big-screen anti-High School Musical). Born in the 90s, his grasp on comedy is already masterful enough that he can already ably dissect failings of the form as performed by others, his thoughts sharp enough that they’re like a cynical seasoned veteran’s injected directly with an unblemished youthful vitality.
Anyway, that’s me now out of hyperbole – it’ll take me the rest of the decade to stock back up – but I sincerely believe it’s all deserved. What with the added presence in Edinburgh of 19-year-old Scottish rising star Daniel Sloss and the even younger School of Comedy, it feels like by the time we get to the next Fringe the new faces of the medium will be so young that they can only communicate through goos and gahs. If the venues want to maintain attendance figures in future, they’d better introduce a strict potty-training policy quick-smartish, that’s all I’m going to say.
Bo Burnham is performing Words, Words, Words from August 4-30 (not 16) at 9.35pm at the Pleasance Dome.
