In today's episode, singer/songwriter Tim Minchin discusses the poison that is social media, how he emerged from his bruising time in LA and why he urges students to look after their bodies.
In conversation with culture reporter Thomas Mitchell, he reflects also on his infamous George Pell song, and on the impending publication of his first non-fiction book, You Don't Have to Have a Dream (Advice for the Incrementally Ambitious).
We'll be back in January 2025 with plenty of exciting interviews booked in the calendar, but for now please enjoy one of our most popular episodes from the past year.
Hi, I'm Conrad Marshall, host of Good Weekend Talks. After a short summer break, the podcast will be back in January with plenty of exciting interviews booked in the calendar already. But for now, enjoy one of our most popular episodes from 2024 and don't forget to subscribe, rate and share! Hi, I'm Conrad Marshall and from the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age. Welcome to Good Weekend Talks, a magazine for your ears, featuring in-depth conversations with fascinating people from sport and politics, science and culture, business and beyond. Every week, you can download new episodes in which top journalists from across our newsrooms talk to compelling people about the definitive stories of the day. In this episode, we speak with Tim Minchin. The Australian performer has just penned his first non-fiction book, You Don't Have to Have a Dream. Advice for the incrementally ambitious. Drawn from three of his iconic graduation speeches, the book is an idiosyncratic celebration of life, art, success and kindness, a rallying cry for creativity, critical thinking and compassion. And hosting this episode, exploring an array of Minchin's own challenges and triumphs, heartaches and epiphanies is the Sydney Morning Herald culture writer Thomas Mitchell.
And Good Weekend Talks welcomes Tim Minchin.
Yeah, I feel welcomed.
You feel welcomed. You look welcome.
Oh, thanks. I hope you feel welcome. I'm faking welcomeness. I actually feel really put upon. Uncomfortable? Yeah. Uncomfortable? Yeah. Maybe I wish I wasn't here. It's the.
Intense lighting.
Yeah, totally. It's quite. It's quite full on. It does feel like, you know, you might be trying to get state secrets out of me or something.
It's almost got a bit of, like, a 60 minutes vibe the way it's lit or something.
Totally. Well, trust me, I know what I've done. I've been a bad builder or something.
Yes, correct. We're here with dodgy tradesman Tim Minchin. Okay, so I was I was curious. You have these different selves. They wear many different hats. Musician, writer, comedian, actor. And now we're kind of looking at the publication of your first non-fiction book. You Don't Have to Have a Dream and a live tour to kind of accompany the release. I mean, you've always been a busy guy, but do you think your relationship with work has changed? Are you afraid of being not busy.
And disinterested in being not busy or uninterested in being not busy? Um, I have a very keen sense that it's an incredible privilege to be. I don't I'm not just checking that box to acknowledge it. I mean, I literally, you know, I, I was heading for and would have been happy as a sort of, you know, a guy who wrote music for theatre in Perth and, you know, maybe did some Shakespeare in the Park, you know, that that was kind of where I was until I was almost 30. And then, um, I ended up somewhere very different, and I just don't. I never felt like I had a right to be an artist. I never thought anyone owed me a career in the arts. And so I don't that hasn't gone away for me. Like I'm like, oh, I get to make stuff I should. I kind of owe it to myself to work eight hours a day. Like, who gets to, like, sit on their laurels or rest on their laurels? Why and why would you when you love your job? That said, I've been waiting for the burn to lower a little bit for the for the gas to be turned down on the fire. That drives me to work so much, and I feel like I might be getting there. It's something to which I aspire to be a bit more chill, because it does come from a place of I need to prove myself and it's it gets unattractive. And I've known artists and people in their 70s and 80s who are really unchill about what they've achieved. They're like chasing their biggest hits. And I'm talking big names, you know, they just never let go of the the kind of need to have another hit or prove themselves, or get richer or be more acknowledged. And I that's a real warning to me that that's not a not a vibe.
No, that's a losing game. I think it is funny, though, because our relationship with work is so different these days. And, you know, you talk about it in the book that if you do what you love, then it never feels like work. And that's the thing people say, and it's very true. But of course, the reverse is true. Like even especially in the creative industries, like labors of love are still laborious. And, you know, I was curious, when do you feel like you're most, like in work mode? Like, when are you really like, I am grinding.
Um, that's an interesting question. I'm not very good at grinding. I'm good at getting very focused when I need to. Um, I really do enjoy all the different aspects of it. The hard thing is when hard. The laborious thing is when you're having to promote stuff and it's just like, now I'm off social media myself. It's a real pain, but I have to generate these videos so they can go to my assistant so they can give them to, you know, it's like that stuff's a bore. And then there's the pain of deciding what to do, the difficulty of what to say no to. That's the hardest bit of my job, which includes things like, can you please do a video for my husband, who's a fan and he's dying of cancer. And if I said yes to all of them, I mean, they don't get they don't all get to me because my managers just can't send them all on the I can't handle that. I don't do all them, but I can't do all of them. Yeah. And the ones I do, do they hang over me. I'm like, I've got to do that. Whether it's a video for that primary school in Poland who are doing a version of Matilda and I promised I would, you know, whatever.
Yeah. You say yes to one and then the floodgates open anyway.
So that's. But I mean, my answer is I don't, I don't feel like I grind when you're on tour and you've done 20 shows and you just feel like your body wants to break down, um, because you're singing for two hours a night and it's just the adrenaline highs and the trying to sleep and the changing cities and the hopping on planes that that feels like work. That feels not the shows. The shows always feel pretty good. Nearly always. But the getting to the show feels like, okay, and I have to do stuff. I have to say to myself, this is like, you know, this is like the ninth K and a ten K run, you know, come on. Like, I have to talk to myself like a sports coach. I was.
Gonna say, how many, how many, like pep speeches have you given yourself in the mirror somewhere in the middle of nowhere where you're like, you can do this up.
There, and you do lose? Yeah. And the other sort of interesting thing about being a performer is your confidence is always a kite, you know, that you've got on a string. Like, I don't swagger through this career. I have my, um, self-assuredness. And I have my self-belief. But I don't swagger through this life. I'm like. It's just constant. I say it in one of the speeches the waves of self-loathing, self-loathing and self-doubt, self self-love and self-doubt or something. You know, it's just that is what being an artist is. I'm amazing. Look at all these people standing up and clapping me. I hate myself. I don't know how people can look at my ugly face. It's just it does it to you.
Because it's I mean, I.
Guess that's the drug.
That's the changing nature of of fame and the work that you put in the grinding or the non grinding in your case, but has brought you a very incredible level of fame. And I know that you've spoken about your, I guess, shifting relationship with fame. And sometimes it can be difficult and you resent it or you crave it as any I think creative does. Would you be sad if you woke up tomorrow and no one knew who you were?
Yeah, I think I would, and I don't think that's attractive either, but I just have to admit.
But that's a conditioning, like.
It's, um. And, I don't know, uh, just to sort of slightly ameliorate your assessment of my past reflections on fame, I don't think I'm very famous. I think I've done really well to be in a place where it's comfortable, like. And I'm not. I don't look like Brad Pitt. I was never going to be an A-lister, because that sort of fame usually comes with aesthetic gifts. Um, but I, I'm happy with my level of fame, and I don't resent it, partly because I'm very lucky to have a personality that finds if someone wants to come up and talk to me, I just very rarely feel anything but love. But I just it's I'm an extroverted, chatty pro and I don't I don't mind, and I'm just. That's just luck, right? Some people find it really, really hard and really invasive. Um, but without a doubt, being important is a drug. Even if you deep down don't think of yourself as important or special, or if you're like me and you don't really believe in free will, so you don't believe you should be credited for anything. You just. You know, when I walk into a room in some places, it's meaningful to others and you can't unknow that, you know?
Yeah.
That said, it does make, if you think about it too much, it could be problematic if I think about how people are approaching me all the time. I just don't think about it, I don't care. People can take me as I come and I take them as they come, and I just don't think about it.
It can. It can kind of break your brain. And I guess the interesting thing is that you do learn that everything is obviously fragile. And you touched on it before, um, what happened with Larrikins? And I was curious, you know, the book is called You Don't Have to Have a Dream. But people do, of course. Naturally. And I imagine if you were to say these are some dreams I had. Like, that is, you know, for anyone that's ever thought about writing or having a career like, that's a version of the dream, what you were doing over there, and it fell apart and, you know, that would be so devastating. And I guess off the back of that, you moved home to Australia and, you know, you kind of, I guess, come back here to pick it up and see what things look like. And I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like I've watched, watched interviews with you and read, read interviews with you. And it felt like as well as being, you know, naturally devastated, there was some anger attached to that whole thing. Oh yeah.
Super trippy.
And how do you how does that feeling evolve, I guess. Where does it sit with you now? What happened there?
Well, of course, the great thing about time passing is, is not just that it heals wounds or the slings and arrows less keenly felt, but it's that your understanding of your experiences is averaged out. So your your failures are mitigated by your successes. And you can look back and go, oh, I had my ups and downs. And in general I've been unbelievably lucky. And and so it just it distance gives you a better view of the average. Right. There was a lot going on at that period when the film was shut down and stuff. Um, I, um, I think just moving and I just. Yeah. I'm not I'm not sure if I was devastated, I was, I was definitely cross because I, I make my work with a particular, slightly Pollyanna ish, um, deliberately Pollyanna ish view. I'd just go, I'm going to throw myself into this. And I'm not perfect. Like, I, I don't always make great art, and I, I'm not the greatest writer in the world, but I really go hard at trying to make it good in my own. And I'm not really interested in what the market wants or what producers think, unless they've got an amazing list of credits. I'm like, I don't know you. You don't seem like anyone who's made a good story. I'm just going to not listen to you. And so I didn't really suit LA, but I still think, you know, I wonder if that movie will have another chance to rise again. Um, I just needed to get on with more work, and I got to right upright when I got back with with my beautiful friends and then be in it. And that was the most amazing way to write a show, which is about dealing with your stumbles and about how your errors, like literally the final monologue of upright season one is, you know, sometimes you make mistakes and they can be accidentally beautiful. I mean, I literally just wrote any wisdom I could pull out of that experience into the next thing. And that in itself was successful and something I loved and that did most of the work.
Yeah, it's. Yeah, because I mean, I guess that any type of like feeling like anger or what you could see as a professional failure, you know, it was out of your control. But the end goal for anyone is to pull something out of it. Totally. And you talk about failure a lot in the book as well. And it's crazy to me reading this story about and I obviously know you're aware of this, but like, you know, Billie Eilish at 12 years old, going to see Matilda and thinking of herself like as a failure because her career hadn't matched that yet. And she's 12 and we know how her career turned out. She's quite talented.
Yet we don't know how it turned out.
Oh, yeah. She's doing so far, so good. Long, long.
Way to go. But you.
Think? But do you think we are living in a time where, like, ambition has morphed to the point where because of, you know, I don't know, the crazy world of social media that has really kind of rearranged our brains so much that we're living in a world where ambition, even when you're a young person, is like something that skewers your worldview already.
Yeah.
I mean, I'm afraid I'm one of those people that think social media is a genuine, genuine poison that's going to do huge, huge damage to the generation that to. I mean, it's it's all in the data. Anyone who's still going, oh, is it social media that caused the massive rise of depression in young people after 2012. Anyone who's. I just think and I'm if two years from now we have another chat and you're like, oh, you were wrong about that. It turned out to be the water or, you know, whatever. Um, I just think you're bonkers. I think social media is poison on so many levels, and that's a whole chat. But but without a doubt, one of perhaps. Okay, so everyone's like, what is the mechanism by which social media causes depression? And there's so much I think it's just too much information in our brains didn't evolve to have 70 different inputs, whether they're positive or negative. It doesn't matter. We're not meant to scroll. We're meant to anyway. So that's the kind of macro thing. But what are the Buddhists say? What what is everyone? Jesus Christ, everyone who's ever had any wisdom said about happiness, which is that that if you compare yourself to others, you're going to be miserable. All the Buddhists say, you know, unhappiness is always either wanting something or aversion. It's either desire or aversion. version. And rather than the the lesson of my second musical Groundhog Day, which is that everything you need to be happy is in front of you. Now, now, obviously there's exceptions and people who are oppressed and people who are suffering. But for most of us in Australia, most of the people listening to this podcast, everything, you know, give or take. Trauma and disease, it's available now. You don't you don't need more to be happy. And actually you can't. And the Buddhists say change is the only constant in the universe. And you have to get to at peace with change. Um, what does social media do to your capacity to not compare yourself to others, to not want to be different? What does a 15. My son who plays guitar, he looks at some ten year old. His algorithm throws him guitar and he just thinks he's terrible. And it's just like, well, I can't explain to you why it doesn't matter that that kid's got chops you don't have. That's not what it's for. That's not what art is. It's not. It's nothing to do with that. I say in my book, you bring everything you are into everything you do. Art is not whether you've got the chops of a ten year old, but how do you tell a 15 year old that? How do you tell a 15 year old girl that having folds of fat on her body doesn't make her a failure, compared to every single frickin body she sees? How do you tell a 40 year old journalist that that because they haven't won the prize, or they're not on a holiday in Fiji, or they don't feed their kids gluten free stuff out of a burlap, burlap, burlap. What's that word sack like? You're just constantly pummeling your brain. It's like what advertising started doing to us. We went, oh, hold my fucking beer. Hand me the bat and we'll do it to ourselves.
Yeah, we're going.
To just brutalize ourselves.
We have. Yeah, we have really turned it up to 11. That whole comparison is the thief of joy. And it's like, we're just like.
Do we not take any lessons and can we learn nothing?
Yeah, because it is very funny. The advertising boom like triggered all these issues. And then we were just like, okay, well maybe I'll just like put that in my pocket and have it on my person and look at.
It 100 times a day.
And the thing I think is particularly toxic. Like I have a very young son, too young to be on social media, but oh, is he though? Well, we could get him on. He's 18 months old. Come on. Soon. Soon. But even that, I think I think like I already have like pre anxiety about him being on it. And the thing I think is particularly uh, I noticed it a lot working in this industry where, you know, engagement with stories is so big now. And you know what goes on in the comments section of articles. And of course, social media is sometimes like, makes you want to cry and you.
Bastards reported as news and just make it worse. Like you're reporting what is said in comment sections that we should have seen that as a bad idea.
Well, yeah, I mean, it's just it's where life happens. Yeah, it is where life happens, I guess. But and I was particularly interested in this, you know, in the book you talk about, um, that we don't listen to one another. It's an idea that, you know, people have been saying for a while, but especially I thought it was really interesting that people don't say often, which you spoke about is like self-interrogation you say, we must think critically and not just about the ideas of others, but be hard on your beliefs. And that's the thing I think people just don't do anymore, because we really exist in these echo chambers. And occasionally when you do drift out into a different chamber, then it's just people like yelling at one another. And do you worry that we are in a time where Self-interrogation has just been completely benched in favor of, like, validation?
Yeah. And it's and everyone sees it happening everywhere else. Like if you talk to any you know of, I would consider myself a left leaning progressive, social progressive. You know, um, I mean, I suppose I'm what? I'm a lefty, right? But am I like, because I find the way my ostensibly progressive friends act, um, kind of appalling because I don't think it's progressive to call anyone you disagree with a fascist or cut or or or deliberately switch off your empathy for someone because they're a race or gender that you see as an oppressor, not an oppressed to group people. It's happening all the time. It's this thing that people call wokeness, which is such a gross word, and I wish we could replace it because what it is, is performative righteousness with no so much of what goes on in line is performing your righteousness to your own people. And I know this because I did it for years, and I didn't realize I did it until I stopped and went, why am I posting about Trump and Brexit and who am I? Whose mind am I trying to change? I'm an artist. Put it in your frickin work, bro. Like, I got off Twitter years ago because I was I had a moment of sort of Damascene moment of realizing that I.
Was there, a particular thing that triggered the moment?
I think I just, I just I guess it's my job to think about things, and not everyone has time to think about things. And I started going, what is this? Helping? Oh, really? I think watching, perhaps being there, watching America get more and more divided, the extreme ification of every viewpoint and the means to an end ism, the idea that we progressives and, you know, nationalistic, right wing, you know, populists and all that mob, they all think, oh, it's means to an end. You know, look, I know you shouldn't necessarily hate people because they're white or Jewish or, you know, but this time it's okay because we're going to get this done. I mean, it's just mad, but but this performative righteousness, it really puts people off. And it and what I realized is no one's got an intention except to show their friends that they are doing right. Think not wrong. Think. I mean, these days when I talk to my friends, I go, tell me something you disagree with your mates on and they all have one. You wouldn't know it though. You wouldn't know it, because everyone only uses social media to show their adherence to a set of values, that that is a representation of what they see as their tribal identity. And I'm saying everyone I'm using. Obviously not everyone does. But there's two problems. One is you have there's no utility, you have no intention. And I talk about this a bit in the book, that our job as artists is to put good ideas into the world and good ideas.
Yeah.
And valuable ideas and valuable ideas. The difference between a valuable idea and a tweet that you've chucked up at 12:00 at night is, is, uh, art could be defined as somewhere where you've put some fucking effort in. And it's really about effort, about self-examination. Is this a good idea? What is its utility? How can it whether it's to entertain or to you know, I've done some really agitating things. I've I've been part of massive public shaming with with pal and stuff and stuff I reflect on now and and we can get to that. But but the other thing that we don't examine is not just is there an absence of utility, but what are the possible unintended consequences? And now we have ten years of data, 12 years of data. And the unintended consequence is a divided nation like America. And my question for Australians listening to this is you want to follow them. And what are you doing. You you not them, not those other people, those arseholes, those fascists, those libtards, whatever. Not the other people. You. What are you doing to make sure our country doesn't follow America?
You obviously just mentioned the pill video and the song back.
In 73, when you were living with Jerry is the truth that you knew, but you chose to ignore? Or did you actively try to keep it buried?
And years later, when survivors, despite the shame and their fear, stood up to tell their stories, you spent year after year working hard to protect the church's assets.
I mean, with all due.
Respect, dude, I think you're scum. And I reckon you should come home.
It was this kind of huge cultural moment in Australia, broadly lauded as hilarious and important and, you know, poignant at the time. And I was curious to get your 2024 feelings on it, because that was something that people got. So it really, like left a mark. And I would say, you know, again, broadly, people were really behind that. But given it's clear that you've, you know, with time, had time to think about the impact of these things. And how do you feel about the, I guess, like the imprint that that video left on the popular culture in Australia?
Well, I can like I can with most things, take two views or 5 or 7. I mean, I think there's a role for satire and there's a role for art in politics. Um, to in my defense, or to my credit, I, I worked incredibly hard to make sure all I talked about in that song, by the way, people remember it as me accusing him of being an abuser. Like, people have a massive false memory about that. The people on the right, they're like, are you going to apologize for Pell to Pell for calling him an abuser? I'm like, I didn't. There was nothing to do with that. This is before all that. I wrote it about him not faking a sickie to not come home to face a royal commission. And I had people very close to the Royal commission, and I, I had read a lot of data on, on how meaningful it is for people who are victims of systemic abuse to be have an apology, just like we apologize to indigenous people. Like, it's hard to figure out the utility of saying sorry to. Indigenous people. But at the time, it was unbelievably important to. People who were there, indigenous people who were there. It was very important that people came back. And yeah, I got a sense that and I knew every flight he had taken in the previous months, I knew he had only seen a doctor in the Vatican. I wasn't pissing around, and I was reflecting stuff that was already written in the media. I was making it funny, accessible, and I was giving abuse victims a voice. Right? And much more than anything, I was raising money to fly them over to see him. And that's what we did. And it wasn't my idea. The charity bit. I was very lucky to be able to help to to Steelman the opposition argument, do I think public shaming is the right mechanism for change as a rule in a post social media world? And I think probably we should be very, very careful with public shaming as a rule. Because how why are you the moral arbiter? I mean, the moral certainty of some people online. You're like, yeah, I know, you know, they go, it's not it's not cancel culture. It's it's holding people to account. I'm like, who are you kidding? Like, maybe you're holding people accountable. Maybe you're getting it wrong. You're a child. Like you're just part of a mob doing moral justice through your lens, right? So I have a problem with public shaming. Cannot be the primary mechanism because it will just it'll come for you. I wrote about it in my song 15 Minutes of Shame. You know they'll turn on you if you stumble. It'll come for you. Not just you straight white guy. Not just you rich colonialists, but you, you know, non-binary. Whatever. You lesbian. Whatever.
Yeah. In, I guess in conjunction with the book, you're touring in conversation with Tim Minchin and like on a flip side, in a really beautiful way, you get to go. And just like, talk with someone else in front of people. People who like their lives are all over the place, from every single demographic and socioeconomic background, or people.
Who can afford to spend 100 bucks to listen to a pontificating buffoon on stage. Yeah, yeah.
We'll start a kick starter for those who can't make it.
Well, yeah, we do some things.
Yeah, but then, I mean, I guess, like, it's almost like you get to go out and remind yourself of, like, what connection actually looks like. You know, you obviously two of the world playing music. I'm not sure if music is a part of this show. No. So it's a very different experience for you, but like kind of a beautiful way to be like, okay, this is actually what it's about I think so.
And I do like my last tour. My unfunny evening was really me talking about my thoughts, and I did talk a little bit about Division. And I have a song called In Defense of the fence, which is an old Pre-twitter song, but it couldn't be more poignant.
Now we divide the world into terrorists and heroes into normal folk and weirdos into good people and paedos into things.
When I go on this book tour, see, you know, if you've listened to this podcast, you've like, I think I speak thoughtfully and clearly, but you can hear me. I have a penchant for passion. I want to get going. I want to get on one right, and I want to grow up into someone who can reflect more, who I actually am inside my head, which is a purveyor of doubt. You know, I'm a I really believe more than anything that you should examine your ideas. And the best way to do that is take the thing you believe and then get the opposition's argument and see how good you can make it. That's what I referred to the term steel man. You steel man. The opposition's argument. So if you think I don't know Trump is a buffoon, the only way to figure out whether that's a good opinion or not is really have a look at what people like about him and just try and see the best in him, right? I haven't done that, but I should. Right, I should. Um, and the other thing I want to do is follow my advice from the sort of most well-known speech from my book, which is define yourself by what you love. Because when we live in a time like this, where we're constantly bombarded with the pain of the world, which is interesting to live in a time when everyone's more aware and therefore maybe more empathic towards people that they otherwise wouldn't have known so much about, except maybe a two inch column on the international pages of the paper. Sure. We thought that would be good. I think what it causes is incredible friction and dissonance. And Gen Z, statistically, they're really struggling to feel optimistic or happy. And I want to do better at modeling for my children and my fans and whatever. Define yourself by what you love. There's so much beautiful stuff in my life and I love art and I love friends, and I love, you know, um, discourse and conversations. And I like talking to people who are different from me and, you know, and so I would like to try and get better at talking to the positive of all this rather than trying to unpack the problems. But, I mean, there's balance there. And as a journo, that's you got to wonder about that too.
Yeah, of.
Course, but that's what I want to do with my book tour. I want to I want to mature into like, a big hippy love machine. Perfect. But but also my critical thinking, um, the basis of my worldview are humanist critical thinking. Um, worldview is I'm going to keep pushing it. It's still it's still the right kind of framework.
Yeah. You can be like a kind of long haired Anthony Robbins just touring the country.
Oh, could I be a long haired who? Uh, I was going to say Peter Singer. Yeah.
Someone that like that. Um, look, you turn 50 next year. I don't want to prematurely age you, but we've kind of been talking about this, I guess, in terms of, like, are you one for milestones? Like when you turned 40, were you like, is this where I wanted to be when you turn 50, or will you take stock or will it just be like, happy birthday, Tim, what are we doing today?
I, I'm not very stock taking because, um, my expectations for the sort of life I might have between the years of 2004 and 2008 blew my blew it all so completely out of the water. Like, I just never, ever thought I would get to play 2000 seaters, let alone 10,000 seaters. Or be Judas in an arena, or have a Broadway musical or any of this. Write a frickin book or talk to you right now. I just everyone says that, but I just I didn't. That's not what I thought. That wasn't my dream. Um, so I, you know, I if I died now, apart from the fact that I made my children sad, I mean, I got nothing. I got nothing I need to do. I mean, I'm so far past my hopes. Um. I'd like to just become a. I'd like to become a force for good ideas. You know, I want to keep honing that, but, um, I've just renovated a home, which I've never done before. That was really, really fun. And I've got this nice marriage and these kids, and I'm all right.
I loved the, like, in the part of the book because especially given that you are talking to, you know, in this particular speech, a group of university students who tend to define themselves. We've all been there, myself included. When you just like you smoke and you drink and you don't give a fuck about anything, and there's not a chance you would be caught dead going for a run, and you really impress upon them the need to, like, treat your body with respect and, you know, like play a sport, do yoga, pump iron like take care of your body. And I think, are you a runner these days? Are you one of these people that runs a lot.
Yeah. I'm a I'm a bit more Jimmy because it's better for my the various pains and problems I have. I'm a hit class guy, but I run. Today's a running day and I'm not going to get to run. I run, yeah, 2 or 3 times a week. I try to run 2 or 3 times a week.
And is it funny when you talk to these students, do you think like, can you see the blank faces being like, I can't believe Tim Minchin's telling me to do a hit class right now. I know.
Right? But that's everyone's always, you know, people always just want a simple version of you. And when I the couple of times I did really get in trouble with the right wing press in Australia because of Pell and still call Australia homophobic and stuff and, and you know, I there's a big percentage of Australians for whom I will just always be that, you know, and still if I ever post anything online, someone will go, this guy's not even funny. And I'm like, I haven't been a comedian for ten years. Like, what did you think of upright? You know, like like, but, um, uh, and part of that is like, long hair, bloody stoner. And they're still sorry to do that voice. It's kind of condescending, but, um, there's still this idea that an artist is a type. I'm like, oh no, I'm a massive footie fan. I like played second grade, first grade adjacent hockey until I was 27. I still run ten K's, you know, twice, like I'm a I'm a jock. And I was a sport way more than I was a muso at school. Like I was obsessed by the sports.
On the album Apart Together, your album, there is a song if This plane goes down, um, and you sing Remember Me as someone who tried to find the balance between self-loathing and pride and legacy is a funny thing, you know, it's something people do get hung up upon. Do you ever give thought to how you'd like to be remembered?
I my position I have another song called Talk Too Much, stayed too long and um, and it says, it says I don't I don't give a shit how I'm remembered. Um, because I'm a, I don't. I'm pretty logical about that stuff. Who cares? I'll be dead. Um. And then every now and then, I think, oh, imagine if, you know, you see someone who, at 70 something gets shamed for something they did, and you realize that they're going to go to their grave being known as the person.
Who the Don Burkes.
Of the world. Yeah. That's right. Right. And, um. And you think you don't want that, but I don't I don't there's nothing coming out. You know, I don't have any dark secrets. I've lived a fairly straightforward kind of life, but, uh, do I think about legacy? I don't really, I, I really like people. Um, I really like that people are interested in my work. I want to always be getting better at whatever it is I'm turning my hand to. I really see that's something very much a that is a personality attribute of mine. is that I people go, why are you doing that? And I'm like, oh, because I can get better at it. You know, when I did my solo piano tour just gone, I'm like, I think I want to get better at piano and singing. I'm going to, I'm going to do, you know, 80 shows. And so it's just progress and I want to keep getting good. And then when I die, I don't know, burn it, burn it, burn it all, baby.
Burn it to the ground.
And just sing. When I grow up in primary school I'll be happy. That's the that's the great thing. My legacy will be Matilda. And that's the best, best fucking thing.
When I grow up. I will be tall enough to reach the branches that you have to reach to climb the trees. You get to climb when you're grown up. And when I grow up, I want to grow up. I will be smart enough to answer all the questions that you need to know the answers.
To when you're a grown up.
Tim Minchin, thank you for joining. Good weekend talks.
It's a pleasure. Thank you for having me.
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