I Hate Theatre
“I heard I had to see Sandbox Radio in the theatre to get the full experience.”
Hey, listen, as a playwright, let me assure you that I hate theatre more than you do, and in ways you have never even thought to think of; but just because Sandbox Radio Live! is recorded at West of Lenin’s intimate but fabulous black box in front of a live audience, that doesn’t make it theatre anymore than Mike Daisey reading from his notes in the Bagely Wright makes what he does a play. (You can delve more deeply into this distinction here.) The podcast of Sandbox Radio is the full experience. The bonus of going to see it live is like getting to watch Chef Tom Douglas cook your dinner at Dahlia Lounge. Witnessing the prep’s a super-cool extra that only a few people are ever going to get to experience.
Prairie Home Companion sucks
“Another “old-timey” radio show? Been there, listened to that. Next.”
Uh… you’re high. Give just one of these podcasts a listen and you’ll see how far from Garrison Keillor our Mistress of Ceremonies Leslie Law takes these recordings. The band ain’t folksy, it’s thumpin’! And the dialogue is distinctly R-Rated. You can listen to Sandbox Radio Live! on headphones at work, safe in the knowledge that what you’re doing is secretly and securely NSFW.
It’s Too Late Now
“If I try to plug into Markheim at this point I’ll be totally lost.”
Admittedly, listening to a randomly selected episode of my noir-angel-detective serial is sort of like picking up a comic book mid-volume and trying to figure out what’s going on. In other words… it’s awesome!
Isn’t this a Seattle thing?
“I don’t live in Seattle.”
Congratulations. I wouldn’t wish living here on a roving band of Uruk-hai. Lucky for you, each podcast gives you ~90 minutes of rich Seattle experience while you can still bask in the sun and/or snow and/or hurricane conditions common where you currently live.
Isn’t this a Seattle thing?
“I already live in Seattle.”
Congratulations! Don’t tell anybody else how awesome it is here, please! If you need put-off material, I have a great little geeky LOtR-insider joke about a roving band of Uruk-hai you can use. But here’s the thing, fellow Seattleite: even if you’ve lived here all your life, you don’t know this city like the writers of Sandbox Radio do. We’ve found the places, stories and people that make Seattle—hmm, what’s a kind way of putting this?—“unique”, yeah, that’s it. Witness this delicious morsel of real-life dialogue captured and then re-staged from Seattle’s moveable epicenter of danger-tainment, the 358 metro route to Aurora. (All dialogue guaranteed overheard on the back of the bus.)
GUY ONE: You wanna talk about John Lennon? Shit, that shit
wasn’t even meant for him.
GUY TWO: What?
GUY ONE: That bullet. S’posed to be Paul McCartney, yo.
That’s who dude wanted to shoot.
GUY TWO: Really. McCartney?
GUY ONE: That’s a fact. And dude will never get out of prison.
GUY TWO: Well, you know, they were all Irish.
GUY ONE: Sure.
GUY TWO: And I always thought that must’ve been weird, growing up Irish in London. Must’ve been hard for them. Where the music came from, you know?
None of these writers are Davids Mamet or Sedaris.
“Sure, I’ve seen some of Sandbox Radio’s actors on Seattle’s Big House stages. But if this ‘Scot Augustson’ is so great, why haven’t I seen anything of his produced at the Rep.”
Uh… you realize that question answers itself, right? A regular and relentlessly versatile contributor to Sandbox Radio, as well as other great companies throughout Seattle and beyond, Scot Augustson is without question one of the best artists currently living and writing for the stage. (At least I think he’s still alive. Homey lives hard up in Rat City.) Scot’s always doing something new for Sandbox, ranging from an original poem, to a hardboiled detective story for forest animals to the new sure-to-be-a-hit Seattle serial, Cousin Katie from Ketchikan. The only reason I don’t consume myself with jealousy for Scot’s talent and accomplishments is that his stuff is far too much fun to watch, or, in the case of Sandbox Radio, listen to. Every time I want to hate him he makes me giggle. Giggling is death to hate. You’d think someone would have put that fact to good use by now.
It’s too hip.
“My tux is at the cleaners.”
This bon mot comes from friend and colleague, Mark Handley, best known for his play Idioglossia, which was later produced as the Jodie Foster film, Nell.
It’s okay, Mark. I just pulled your thong out of my dryer. You can wear that while you listen. We’re casual.
