Phil Austin of Firesign Theatre (known for his performance as Nick Danger, Third Eye, among many others) died today of cancer at his home on Fox Island in Puget Sound.
[6/19/2015 - From Phil Proctor to all our Dear Friends and Firesign Fans:]
"Nick Danger has left the office.
Our dear friend and Firesign Theatre partner for over 50 years succumbed to various forms of cancer early this morning at his home on Fox Island, Washington, with his wife Oona and their six beloved dogs at his side. It is a tremendous and unexpected loss, and we will miss him greatly; but in keeping with his wishes, there will be no public memorial.
Rest in Peace, Regnad Kcin."
Firesign is the American Monty Python. I can say no more. No one who gives their work a try will regret it. And Nick Danger . . . he was the place to start.
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
Firesign Theater remains, I believe, unique among recorded comedy acts in that they had at least one album released as a audiophile version, using the half-speed remastering process from Mobile Sound Labs. Their stuff was so densely packed it actually benefited.
Their fame was on records and on the radio, so their humor differs from Python in that it makes much more use of clever wordplay and sound effects (Python could always insert some physical comedy or a ridiculous costume or a funny subtitle; these guys could not). But they share with Python the intelligence behind the humor and a sharp satiric imagination.
We have just about everything they recorded on vinyl, and even some audiotapes Tom recorded off live radio when he was growing up in L.A. We had the pleasure of seeing two of them perform live as part of an evening science fiction class I was taking at UCLA 30 years ago, and even covering familiar material, sitting on chairs on a bare stage, they were painfully funny. I was glad Tom had chosen the Wall of Science and to follow the . . . yellow . . . rubber line, because that was what made that evening possible for us.
I Think We're All Bozos on This Bus (complete album):
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
