Tim Heidecker Is Not Trying to Make You Laugh With Folk Album ‘Slipping Away’: ‘My Artistic Life Has Been About Obscuring Identity and Irony’

As someone who’s spent years observing and satirizing American culture, I can’t help but see a striking resemblance between the characters we’ve created and certain political figures, like JD Vance, that have surfaced recently. It’s not just a coincidence; it’s like we’ve tapped into some deep, dark well of American masculinity that’s been there all along.


For several past decades, Tim Heidecker has constructed an expansive realm of humor using television shows, films, online series, and podcasts.

Throughout a significant portion, which includes numerous episodes of “Tim & Eric,” “On Cinema,” “Office Hours,” his 2019 political mockumentary “Mister America,” and the intentionally amateurish stand-up special “An Evening With Tim Heidecker,” he has frequently portrayed himself (though, to some extent, in a somewhat stylized manner).

In our conversation with EbMaster, Heidecker explains that his artistic journey revolves around masking one’s identity and employing irony in such a way that it remains unclear who I am when interacting with him.

In my perspective, with his latest folk-rock offering titled “Slipping Away,” the humorist has stepped away from jokes to share a heartfelt compilation of tunes that delve into themes of aging, apprehension, and the impending doom. He’s not here to amuse you this time, but rather to express his deepest feelings through music.

Regarding the perception of who Tim Heidecker is and when to view him as serious, he acknowledges that his actions have added an extra layer of complexity.

As a passionate movie enthusiast, I recently had the pleasure of sitting down for an engaging conversation with the multitalented entertainer, discussing his songwriting journey, his decision to go by his real name instead of adopting a stage persona, and the striking similarities some of his characters share with JD Vance’s experiences.

In the film review, I’d express it as follows:

It’s as if you’re saying, “I’m unsure of its origin. I was once capable of performing it, but now I can’t seem to do it any longer. I can handle other tasks just fine, but that particular one eludes me.

Just to confirm, you’re fully aware of the words. But do you genuinely experience this sentiment throughout your creative projects? Is it simply more challenging for you to generate ideas currently?

As a moviegoer reflecting on my experiences, I can relate to those creative ebbs and flows. While I’m not entirely convinced by the concept of finite creativity or limited ideas, I do find myself drawing from my emotions when composing a song. It’s not always about deep-rooted passions or all-consuming obsessions; sometimes it’s just a momentary feeling. At times, I may feel creatively drained, yet I remember feeling similar at sixteen as well. You might find yourself thinking, “I have no ideas,” only to discover a fresh idea the very next day.

Overall, the album has a rather somber feel to it. Did you find it significant to conclude with a track that brings some optimism instead?

Absolutely, in hindsight, I found myself pondering over it. The final track resonated deeply with me, as I’ve invested considerable effort into this project which I take great pride in. However, I was unsure if wrapping up on such a somber note was the right choice. It struck me that I have the power to shape my narrative, and I can infuse hope even when mirroring anxious or apocalyptic emotions. This unexpected insight has motivated me to explore ways to keep surprising my audience.

Where do the ideas for songs come from? And is it a similar ideation process to your comedy?

Typically, a song seems to appear unexpectedly, guiding my path ahead. It might sound somewhat mysterious, but it’s accurate. The initial track I penned for this album was “Hey, Could You Call My Mom for Me?”, which emerged from a very real-life incident in Vancouver, where there is a high prevalence of homelessness and drug addiction. An instance occurred where a child asked me to call his mother. This incident triggered thoughts about the pandemic and the world’s state, inspiring me to write that song, which in turn led to the creation of several other songs.

That’s a heavy experience. What was that like?

In a district known as Gastown, often referred to as “Zombie Town,” I found myself navigating through the early hours of the day. This area is infamous for its high population of drug addicts and homeless individuals, with law enforcement seemingly turning a blind eye. The scene was both startling and disheartening, leaving me at a loss as to how to help. In an impulse, I gave some money to a young boy. I’m still unsure if my actions were the most effective, but I felt compelled to do something. I’ve observed similar situations in San Francisco and other parts of the country. The youth, ranging from teenagers to those in their twenties, are struggling to survive on the streets. It’s a situation that tugs at my heartstrings, perhaps because I have children of my own, and it seems as though some of these young people could have once been in a better position, only to find themselves in this predicament.

Since you’ve created such a broad and satirical comic universe, have you ever struggled to express the genuine feelings behind projects similar to this one?

It’s something I’ve been doing for a while now, and it’s diminishing — the number of people who are confused by it. Through “Office Hours” and through interviews like this and talking in the press about it, I think it’s fairly convincing. There’s always going to be skepticism, for actors or for anybody that didn’t come up as a musician. There’s always a little hesitation or skepticism about whether they’re legit. My artistic life has been about obscuring identity and irony, and making it so that you don’t know who you’re getting when you’re dealing with me. So, I understand that I’ve made it even more difficult. 

From the outset, this endeavor has served as an avenue for self-expression. What fascinates me about this aspect is breaking free from the confines of the comedic persona. It’s been liberating because if I felt obligated to maintain a single character, I would be utterly unhappy. Lately, I shared an interview that I conducted and someone remarked, “All we want is for you to talk about ‘On Cinema.'” While I appreciate ‘On Cinema,’ the thought of being bound to an audience to solely focus on one thing would drive me insane. Moreover, there are numerous individuals who weren’t exposed to Tim & Eric during their upbringing and are discovering my past work through music instead.

In your discussion, you brought up the concept of hiding one’s identity within one’s work. It’s a technique I haven’t come across being used quite as creatively by others as it seems to be in your case.

Indeed, I concur. I’ve yet to encounter someone performing it quite similarly. However, I hesitate to boast about it as it may come off as arrogant. Andy Kaufman often explored such themes in his work.

Did you ever consider using a stage name for your music?

Eric Wareheim and I found the concept of using different names for each character to feel rather cliche. Instead, we preferred presenting various aspects of ourselves, finding it more intriguing. Coming up with distinct character names seemed outdated to us. We did assign names to specific sketches or characters on occasion, but Tim Heidecker is portrayed as the worst comedian you’ve ever seen in one context, while in another, he plays an actor in a movie that might appeal to you. Ultimately, my goal is to have people say, “This guy is versatile. He did so many unique things. I didn’t like everything he did, but it all seems to stem from the same creative mind.

On Spotify, the unique blend of music is fascinating. For instance, you might find “Slipping Away,” a heartfelt collection of folk tunes, side by side with “An Evening With Tim Heidecker,” an unintentionally humorous hour of stand-up comedy.

It seems to be detrimental for me in terms of business, as the current algorithms tend to create confusion among users. Unfortunately, this appears to be the state of things, and I don’t have much influence over it.

Could I ask if this album offers an unusual avenue for humor, perhaps indirectly so? For instance, the song “Like I Do” has a humorous tone, yet it’s not the type of comedy one typically associates with Tim Heidecker. There seems to be a folk music influence at play here.

Absolutely. The pressure is less intense, particularly with the humor aspect. Songwriting for me involves two distinct elements. One is an authentic, raw, and emotional release of myself. The other resembles solving a crossword puzzle or playing a word game. It’s enjoyable to weave ideas together, create rhymes within rhymes, or make callbacks. Often, it should be humorous. However, you won’t find yourself laughing out loud while listening to this album. But compared to a Bruno Mars record, it might just be funnier.

There has been a lot of discussion on social media, comparing scenes from “An Evening With Tim Heidecker” and “Mister America” to clips of JD Vance. What are your thoughts on this comparison?

Over the past couple of months, “Mister America,” much of its stand-up special, and parts of “On Cinema” have taken on an eerily familiar feel with JD Vance. I believe we’ve stumbled upon a unique aspect of American masculinity that we find both amusing and intriguing to satirize. We weren’t poking fun at something fictitious – it was already there. It was like Ted Cruz a decade ago. This character has been around for some time. JD Vance, during this political season, is the leading actor in that show. He embodies that specific type of man. I may not be skilled at describing what that is exactly, but you’ll recognize it when you encounter it.

He seems like someone trying to overcompensate for something, perhaps feeling a bit out of place or awkward in their own presence.

Many aspects of JD Vance’s public persona are superficial, reflecting a widespread suspicion that political behavior today often appears insincere. Compared to others in his field, Vance seems particularly unnatural in his attempts to appear as an everyday person. Upon closer examination, this discomfort becomes more understandable. Vance is linked to the Peter Thiel circle and the wealthy elite who harbor a dystopian view of society’s ideal operation. This raises concerns that Vance may be masquerading as a populist when he is truly a puppet manipulated for their purposes. This mindset, with its chilling, otherworldly “Earth be damned, we’ll live on Mars if you can afford it” overtones, is downright terrifying.

What’s your take on using politics as a topic for humor in general? John Oliver recently disagreed with the notion that Donald Trump is a “comedy goldmine,” stating, “It’s not a gift that any of us asked for.

I’d separate the things, because in my time off the air, I don’t find him funny at all. I find his ideas and the people that surround him very scary and unsettling and damaging to my family’s future. But there is absolutely no doubt that he, as a character, is still fucking hilarious. It’s unbelievable. On “Office Hours” today, I jokingly said the whole “stand back and stand by” line that he said [to the right-wing extremist group Proud Boys], and Vic [Berger] and I started crying laughing. Because the comedy of that is: he didn’t mean to say that, he was just riffing. He riffed it, and it created a nightmare for him. Words come out of that guy’s mouth, and he doesn’t have any control over it, and it creates all these problems. You don’t get more classic comedy than that, and it’s happening in real life. There’s a million things that are funny about him on a character level, but the real-world implications of it are not as funny. So, for the Stephen Colberts and the John Olivers, I could see how it becomes a drag.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

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2024-10-18 19:47