Then there’s the ad promoting classes on how to build a course for a sport that mixes Frisbee and golf, culminating in a Bruce Springsteen-style anthem. “Never wanted to be famous/just want to do one thing,” Duguay sings passionately in a raspy belt. “Bought that Frisbee on Monday/by Wednesday that Frisbee zings.”
The songs are comic highlights. They’re refined enough to be a convincing re-creation of, say, the synth-heavy soundtrack of a lost Brian De Palma thriller (that is parodied in a recent episode), but a bent goofiness eventually bursts through, stealing focus. That’s the core of the best jokes here, the pingpong of mundane realism and the bizarre, working like setup and punchline.
It’s madness to talk about foosball players as if they are sociopathic mobsters, but this podcast commits to it. So much so that you start to get invested in the rivalry between Used Foosball Tables and its neighboring store, Karate Trophy City, home of the largest karate trophy in North America. (“Traditionally, karate and foosball people don’t get along.”)
There are moments in the podcast when you can hear the comedian voice intrude, like Doug quip about Psychology Today: “It’s created so therapists can have a magazine in the waiting room.”
Or the kind of fully imagined bits that could easily be part of a John Mulaney set, like the unpacking of the phrase “sleeps with the fishes” from “The Godfather.” Doug questions why Sonny Corleone’s associate would drop the seafood in his lap as opposed to just telling him, “Some fish came and … it’s not good.” Adopting Sonny’s perspective, Doug asks, “Did I hire you for dramatic flair?”
These are funny but sound more like a stand-up than an insurance agent. “Valley Heat” has all the hallmarks of an auteur sensibility, including a certain indulgence. There’s a narrative clutter and lack of polish in this podcast that comes from artistic freedom. That’s also a strength: It sounds as if it could come only from one distinct, uncompromising voice.
Kyle Chayka, in his recent book, “Filterworld,” argues persuasively (and darkly) that the artificial-intelligence-driven algorithms powering Netflix, YouTube and social media have had a flattening effect on art, producing feeds marked by sameness and mediocrity. But new technologies have also lowered the barrier for entry for artists and allowed new works like “Valley Heat” that could never have been produced a generation ago. It’s an optimistic sign that amid the glut of content, ambitious and eccentric alternative comedy is still being made. It just may be hard to find.
