Gregg Turkington on over-protective character comedians who don’t want their creations hated: ‘Their ego needs validation’
Neil Hamburger aka America’s Funnyman gets ready to shoot off more savage insults to anachronistic cultural figures while trying not to be physically avenged

After more than 30 years performing as Neil Hamburger, the celebrity-baiting, ‘sick’ comic in the soiled tuxedo, greasy hair plastered across his scalp, Gregg Turkington knows his cult creation ‘intuitively’. And he’s wholeheartedly committed to the act, affording some twisted authenticity to Hamburger’s desperate ‘but that’s my life!’ catchphrase-lament. Yet not everyone gets the joke. Lana Del Rey recently told a friend of his that he is an ‘awful person’. Opening for Tenacious D in Glasgow, Hamburger was pelted with spare change. And to Turkington’s considerable unease, he found himself remaining in character as the beaten-down, vaudevillian lounge turn when he was punched and struck with a glass not so long ago.
‘Maybe if there was an earthquake or something I’d run out the door with everyone else at a faster clip than Neil might,’ the 56-year-old suggests, speaking to me from his Los Angeles home ahead of a UK tour. ‘But I take it seriously; I’m there to put on a show. I’m not one for going wink, wink and smirking at my own jokes. Some people get into character and their ego needs validation; they don’t want the character despised. But I’m always fine with people’s reactions, whatever they are.’
Hamburger first appeared on a prank phone-call record in 1992, and Turkington, who came to prominence writing fanzines in San Francisco for Meat Puppets and Flipper, credits his punk idols with making him fearless when he brought ‘America’s Funnyman’ to the stage. ‘That early world of punk rock had this idea that everybody’s equal, anybody can take the stage and say what they want. Those bands had this attitude of it not really mattering whether anyone likes it.’
The perennial, increasingly dated targets of Hamburger’s brutal but beautifully rococo put-downs remain the likes of Steven Tyler, Madonna, Britney Spears and the dreadful Smash Mouth. Yet the persona and jokes have subtly evolved over time, acknowledging his arena appearances for The D and Faith No More, while a version of Hamburger was the focus of star-studded 2015 film Entertainment. And then there’s his series of music records, culminating in last year’s Christmas concept album Seasonal Depression Suite. Featuring Crowded House’s Neil Finn, Bonnie Prince Billy, Bow Wow Wow’s Annabella Lwin, and sad clown extraordinaire Puddles Pity Party alongside Hamburger, this audio wallow in self-pity and paranoia, of lost souls decaying in a mid-price motel, pays homage to Frank Sinatra’s least commercially successful record, Watertown, as well as 1970s celebrity LPs from the likes of Telly Savalas, Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner.
As with all of Hamburger’s output, Turkington and composer Erik Paparozzi initially conceived Seasonal Depression Suite as punkishly unpolished. Nevertheless, he was pleased to capture his alter ego’s phlegmy throatiness on a microphone previously employed for Leonard Cohen’s cracked, lugubrious vocals. ‘If anyone wants to talk about the flaws in Cohen’s voice, they’ve got a screw loose!’ Turkington exclaims. ‘There aren’t many vocalists with such a connection to the lyrics. Like Sinatra, he saw himself as in service to the song, totally connecting to what he’s saying. And that’s the same with Shatner’s first record. As an actor, for better and worse, he’s throwing himself into those songs. I genuinely find it moving and inspiring.’
A Carefree Evening Out With Neil Hamburger tours until Monday 14 October.