

The purpose of comedy is to take something bad and make it good. More specifically, it is to take the status quo and change it for the better. This is what I gather from literary theorist Herman Northrop Frye, one of the greatest influences on my philosophical views toward comedy. In his Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays, Frye refers to comedy as the “Mythos of Spring”, whose change in the status quo is represented by new ideas replacing old ideas, a new society replacing the old society, the younger generation replacing the older generation, spring replacing winter, fertility replacing infertility, consummation replacing sexual frustration, etc. In short, Frye presents comedy as a life-affirming statement of progression and renewal.
Describing the plot of classical comedies, Frye writes:
“At the beginning of the play the obstructing characters are in charge of the play’s society, and the audience recognizes that they are usurpers. At the end of the play the device in the plot that brings hero and heroine together causes a new society to crystallize around the hero, and the moment when this crystallization occurs is the point of resolution in the action, the comic discovery, anagnorisis or cognitio.”
Although this description is specific to the plot of a classical comedy, the basic mechanism of all comedy can gleaned from this passage. The hero/heroine hooking up is inessential; for our purposes, any example of the human spirit overcoming obstacles imposed by the status quo will do. Put into these terms, the function of comedy in an ancient Greek play is the same as it is in any good joke told today: preconceived ideas are foiled and met with upheaval by a device, resulting in an anagnorisis or moment of discovery in which the possibility of a new reality becomes realized.
If you represent change, you are a comedian. If you represent the status quo, you are an anti-comedian, a hack. Change is a struggle. Change is often met with resistance and frustration. Change is not an easy sell. People often prefer the easy route and would rather claim their stake in change that has already been accomplished, thus obviating any actual struggle. I would call this pandering to the liberal crowd. A more brutish version of this aversion to change can be seen pandering to the audience that wants to be congratulated on its ignorance, prejudice, and selfishness. This is demagoguery, lynch mob mentality, Carlos Mencia, etc. In both cases, however, the comedian fails to stand for change, either by openly assuming the audience’s views or more subtly conforming to the audience’s projections.
Frye writes, “the [comic] hero’s society is a Saturnalia, a reversal of social standards which recalls a golden age in the past.” I like to think of comedy that Saturnalia, a place where love overcomes hate, the weak overcome the strong, appeal overcomes the rule, the nerds overcome the jocks, and so on. If you believe in and remain true to these values without compromising them for someone else’s approval—if you resist the temptation to yield to the path of least resistance—if you do all this, then you succeed as a comedian, no matter who gets the most laughs. I don’t claim to embody this ideal, but I do try to bear it in mind. The purpose of comedy is not to be clever, to be witty, to be right, or to be funny. Those things are rewards that follow from serving comedy’s purpose.
When you hear “Orchestra Hit” you know it’s going to be an Shaq Fu Mortal Kombat NBA Rap Battle to the death that will decide the future of Generation Now. But how did this timeless sound come to be? Where is it going and what does it want? Read on to find out.
Exhibit A:
From Wikipedia:
The sound was a low-resolution, eight-bit digital sample from a recording of Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite – specifically, the chord that opens the “Infernal Dance” section, pitched down a minor sixth and at a reduced speed.
Exhibit B:
Knowing that it would be decades ahead of its time, Igor Stravinsky composed the Firebird Suite in 1910 hoping that his vision might one day be understood by the Six Flags Great America Laser Show brought to you by Mountain Dew.
Exhibit C:
Keith Sweat likes Orchestra Hit… A LOT.
Exhibit D:
The Orchestra Hit is also a staple of Mecha Reploid Robot Anime Battles.
My first Wikipedia contribution! I hope this brings attention to an overlooked issue in American cinema. Click for full size.
[Update: Apparently Wikipedia would rather delete my contribution than let people view the facts and decide for themselves. Very disappointing to see this kind of bias in a supposedly democratic system.]
The DX7 Rhodes is a watery, Crest toothpaste-glitter sparkle magical sound that has enchanted us all at some point or another. And yet most people don’t even know what it is! This post serves to remedy that.
Exhibit A:
From Wikipedia:
The DX7 Rhodes, also known as DX Rhodes, FM Rhodes, FM E. Piano, or Digital Rhodes, is a Fender Rhodes emulation originally produced by the “E. Piano 1” patch on the Yamaha DX7 (and TX-series rackmount) line of synthesizers.
This distinctive, fresh sound, while by no means an exact duplicate of the ever-popular Fender Rhodes electric piano, was nevertheless very reminiscent of it and has become, arguably, the single sound with which the DX7 is most identified. This sound was subsequently edited and expanded upon to produce the now famous DX7 Rhodes sound.
DX7 II (and DX7S) released in 1987 made a distinctive, bright, overtone-rich version of the “E. Piano 1” sound available as a preset. On the DX7 II this sound became known as “Fulltines.”[2]
Variations of the DX7 Rhodes sound were produced by individual artists and programmers, as well as manufacturers of other synthesizers. Though not always produced on Yamaha DX/TX equipment or using FM synthesis, the family of sounds based on Yamaha’s “Fulltines” became ubiquitous in popular music from 1984 through the early 1990s. Most synthesizers and home keyboards included an “electric piano” patch that imitated the DX7 Rhodes sound. In the 1990s, improvements in sampling technology, decreased emphasis on synthesized sound in popular music, and a resurgence of interest in vintage keyboard instruments led to the sound falling out of favor.
Because the “E. Piano 1” DX7 preset only faintly resembled a real Rhodes Piano, and the subsequent “Fulltines” even less so, devotees of real vintage electric pianos often express their distaste for the DX7 Rhodes sound.
Exhibit B:
The DX7 Rhodes featured prominently in the end credits of every early 90’s animated Disney blockbuster.
Exhibit C:
In 1997, James Cameron’s ‘Titanic’ provided one final triumph for the DX7 Rhodes before it faded into further obscurity.
Exhibit D:
Dong-dong rocks out on the DX7 Rhodes for 11 solid minutes at some old lady’s funeral.
My contribution to Twisted Biscuit 2011. It was humbling to compete among such talent and even more humbling to win. If you haven’t seen it already, Chris Thayer’s brilliant and merciless set is available at http://thisischristhayer.com/. Thanks to Ameen Belbahri and Miles K for making the show happen, and Ivan Hernandez for the video..