|
|
 
 |
Jeanne & The Pianoman
Published: April 2004
Story: Theresa Katalinas
Photo: Fly Magazine photo by Shanin Goelz |
Jeanne and the Pianoman have dropkicked the racist, name-calling Archie Bunker prototype into the 21st century.
Pianist/vocalist Michael Filipelli, 46, seemingly resurrected the 1970s "All in the Family" television sitcom character and replaced Bunker's passive wife, Edith, with on-stage siren Jeanne Behnke, 49, a redheaded songstress whose curly tresses resemble that of America's favorite TV housewife, Peg Bundy from "Married with Children."
Unlike the characters the twosome inadvertently bring to life, the beer-swilling dirty jokes set to music are no act. Or are they? "This is where Mike checks out," bald-headed Filipelli announces upon darting away to change into his infamous red-and-white checkered Mr. Clean suit and matching hat. "When I put the suit on, I stop being Mike and start being him. And then for the next hour and a half, anything is fair game."
And anyone.
With one fell swoop of the ivories, the equal opportunity offender uses familiar melodies with reworked lyrics to vulgarly pick at different ethnic groups and celebrities. Filipelli contends he has upwards of 250 such ditties. "They just don't stop," he says. "'The ballad of Gary Condit' became 'The ballad of Kobe Bryant' to fit the times - Kobe Bryant's in the news, so he's fair game."
Does Filipelli worry about the consequences of his politically incorrect humor? The spectacled music-maker and rabble rouser says getting sued by one of his parodied superstars would be a blessing. "I would think it's a great honor if somebody thought enough of this stuff to actually go ahead and sue me," Filipelli says. "Notoriety in this business is the best thing in the world."
Like most stand-up comedians, Filipelli scours the audience for easy prey. On this night, he zeros in on a set of middle-aged parents, their 20-something daughter and her boyfriend. "You know why they call me Pianoman?" Filipelli chides after taunting the family's Irish roots and love of Philadelphia Eagles football. "Because it's a piano, you fucking idiot. What, are they gonna call me Tubaman?"
Mother Carol O'Leary, of Springfield, says she and her family stumbled onto the duo by accident, thinking it was dueling pianos. And, although O'Leary was at first put off by posters promising adult entertainment, she quickly learned to roll with Filipelli's verbal punches. "When it said 'X-rated,' I thought she was going to strip," O'Leary says, nodding to Behnke. "I'm OK with this."
For the most part, Behnke and Filipelli say audiences eat up the crude humor and beg for seconds. "The only people that get offended are the ones that don't feel they've been included," Filipelli contends. "People have an innate ability to laugh at themselves. When they know that you're laughing with them, not at them, they're a part of the joke, they're not the joke. If I could play like Liberace or sing like Pavarotti, my shtick would never work."
Behnke is sometimes surprised that crowds are not offended by Filipelli's alter ego. "He's doing ethnic humor and usually the people you're singing about - like we played for a gay wedding - and they loved it," Behnke says. "He's got this personality that comes off when he's on-stage and they laugh."
While warming up the multi-generational Doo Wop-bopping restaurant crowd with "The Brady Bunch" theme, Filipelli wins a few chuckles. "It's the story of an ugly lady who was bringing up three very ugly girls," he croons, slightly off-key. "The youngest one's a squirrel."
The jury's still out on whether Jeanne and the Pianoman are a stand-up comedy act or a live classical music group. Regardless, the show may be one of few where heckling and loud, drunken audience participation is not only encouraged, it's expected. "It's interactive," Filipelli says. "This is sort of like karaoke right from your chair."
In contrast to her counterpart, Behnke says it's difficult becoming someone else on-stage. As Filipelli graphically pokes fun at fitness guru Richard Simmons' sexuality on the made-over Frank Sinatra classic "My Way," Behnke grimaces and grips her forehead like a frustrated mother. "He can go into his Mr. Clean persona just like he's an actor," she offers. "With me, it's always like, I'm me. I'm still just Jeanne."
Ironically, Behnke says it's women who get more out of control. Leaning in on her barstool and dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper, she says, "They yell 'fuck' the loudest."
Clad in a demure black-and-white button-front blouse and tan slacks, the folk/rock crooner, who boasts a twang of Patsy Cline's country essence, says good-bye to etiquette and lets it all hang out. "I hate this fucking song," she screams of the reach-out-and-push version of "Sweet Caroline" as the melody pumps through the small restaurant.
Though she has taken well to smut, Filipelli says Behnke initially went into the "trash" - as the duo's brand of sing-alongs are called - "kicking and screaming."
"In real life, she's far dirtier than I could ever hope to be," Filipelli says. "She curses far more in her normal language than I do. I gotta get paid to do it, at least."
Jeanne and the Pianoman formed eight years ago after meeting as Green Bay Packer fanatics at a York chapter of misplaced Cheeseheads gathering. A love of Billy Joel, Elton John and Fleetwood Mac, as well as the green and gold, cemented a friendship and led to area music gigs. "It's the best way to hone the act, just like the Beatles did Hamburg," Behnke says in a mock British accent. "I told him though, 'Don't wear the toilet seat around your neck.'"
Instead, to Behnke's glee, Filipelli dons a cheesehead hat and, on special occasions, penis headgear on his shiny cranium. "That gets probably the biggest laugh of the night," she says.
Three years earlier, to Behnke's consternation, the duo began scraping the bottom of the barrel. "I thought, I just want to do music," the classically trained singer, pianist and guitarist says, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, we get booked a lot more doing this."
Filipelli credits a gig at the Stoverstown Inn for transforming good-natured tunes into an all-out garbage fest. "I only knew eight off-color songs," he says. "We tossed 'em out and people just laughed their heads off."
So, how does Filipelli measure a show's success? A dab of applause, a pinch of cheer - oh, and one can't forget the main ingredient - a crotch-full of public humiliation. "Remember the guy who laughed so hard he pissed himself?" Filipelli asks Behnke, who rolls her eyes in disgust. "I just looked at him and I said, 'You pissed yourself.' And he goes like this [nodding his head]. And I said, 'Why didn't you go to the bathroom?' He goes, 'Because I didn't want to miss anything.'"
Those opting to relieve themselves in the convenience of a bathroom stall can do so without fearing what potty-mouthed humor will be missed. Following up last year's success of Jeanne and the Pianoman's debut album, Classical Trash, the duo plan to record portions of its second CD live at its April 3 show. Filipelli says the finished product will be a mix of live and studio songs and, as expected, will follow the same garbage-laced formula.
"The key to it is recognizable music with topical stuff. Anybody can put dirty words in a song," Filipelli figures. "The vulgarity of it is the shock - that draws the interest. But if it wasn't funny, it wouldn't be self-sustaining."
For more information, visit www.classicaltrash.com.
|
|
|
Untitled Document
|
|
