I needed a clean tape because I want to submit for a few TV things so I did a bringer last night at Gotham Comedy Club (this is what someone might say at their first meeting of Comedians Anonymous to treat their addiction to laughter-based approval from strangers). To put that in civilian terms, imagine you are a married woman and you just found out your husband was in a gay gangbang porn film before you got married. And all your friends have copies now. That is the level of internal embarrassment I feel doing a bringer at this stage of my comedy career. But more important that my sense of pride, which I abandoned sometime in 2009 with regards to my comedy career, is getting a a good clean tape.
To get on the show last night I had to scrounge together a bunch of friends, who literally represented every part of my life other than law school. I had at least one representative from my family, family friends, high school, college, comedian friends, the Bronx DA’s office and Blank Rome (the firm I worked at). Considering I was annoyed enough doing a bringer and the lengths I had to go to get people I said to myself that I could no longer do another bringer so I had to make last night’s set a good, nay, a great one (I also probably said this three years ago). And as it turned out my set really did turn out great. I have almost never been happy with a set, especially when taping it for a specific purpose, but last night was the exception. Crowd was great and I felt like I stuck the landing. In fact it took me longer than usual to fall into a post show funk. Here is the set:
But it was as if Gotham knew that it would be my last bringer ever because on the lineup was Jim Gaffigan, Sherri Shepherd, Jeff Dye, Judah Friedlander and Louis C.K. I have said and still believe plenty of terrible things about bringer shows, but last night was actually pretty damn impressive. Oh well, thanks to everyone who came out and hopefully the tape can do some work for me.
Bon Scott said “It’s A Long Way To The Top” – Then he died and his band made it to the top with another singer.
Last night I lost in the Final Four of Caroline’s March Madness to the incredibly sharp and very deserving champ Myq Kaplan. I think what gave me trouble sleeping last night was not the fact that I lost, but the fact that I felt like a complete nervous fu-king hack in my performance. I wish I could give a more upbeat recap (Rich Vos crushed some idiot woman in the front who started talking during my set and did not shut up until Vos verbally undressed her for 15 minutes, Ryan Reiss had strong sets and Myq Kaplan beat him with a very strong set in the finals), but I am preoccupied.
See the jokes I did last night are some of my tried and true and they always work. But last night they did not work as well for several reasons. One is that I was nervous. Give me a mic and some strangers and I can do very well. Give me a mic, some strangers and add the word competition or contest and I freeze.
Probably for many comics, including myself, these competitions present the same opportunity that the lottery presents – an unrealistic hope that success will change, or accelerate a change in, one’s life, when all it amounts to is lost time and money for all but the winner. I have been on television twice and it has yielded jack sh*t. So when there is a chance to get paid work from a club and some modicum of exposure/respect it ramps up the importance, even if it is something you have done a thousand times. But the desire to “make it” or “get a break”, no matter how small the break may be just adds a layer of nervousness for me – like how Tommy in the film Tommy Boy describes how he fu-ks up a potential deal.
Competitions are like the good cop to the bringer show’s bad cop. See clubs will tell you it’s a business, etc., but there are comics getting work and comics not getting work that could easily switch places. The problem for these places is once you are in, you understandably won’t go back to being out – so bumping an established regular will only lose the club a comic. However, if you string along young comics, without telling them that years of bringers will not yield anything that years in the backs or basements of pubs won’t (more a lie of omission than commission), they will keep coming back (case in point – me). So if you make the mistake of bumping up too many of these comics all you get is more comics who will refuse to fund “new talent nights.” So I now reconcile my lack of courage by saying that I need to do them because I need a good tape of some new jokes – which can be true, but does not really justify whoring myself out.
But worse than choking last night was the fact that my tougher, more personal jokes I saved for the finals (in the event that I made it) because I needed the crowd to like me first (gentler jokes in the first set) before I could get into that. This is what I am most ashamed of from last night. I tried to be Jay Leno and tell jokes that everyone would like instead of telling the jokes that mean the most to me and can evoke the best performance from me, for fear that I would not get everyone chuckling.
I was reminded after the show last night of a show that I did last Friday. The crowd was about 150 and the median age was about 48. A comic named Sean Patton got up last on the show. He did a set that was very funny, but what I appreciated even more was that his set had a very subtle “this is what I do, so fu-k you if it’s not your cup of tea” kind of vibe because his topics and style were surely not going to make everyone in the stuffy room happy. But his performance had no change from what it was at Rodeo Bar two days earlier in front of younger, drunker people. He was not trying to be a different product for different audiences. He knows what kind of comic he is (at least he certainly appears to) and did not abandon it.
My best stuff is the stuff that 75% of the room likes and 25% of the room is slightly offended by (those stats are provided by my imagination) – and I am not talking about some sort of Lisa Lampanelli parade of racial slurs – I am talking about the calling of people on their bullsh*t sort of humor or exposing horrible things from my past to get a laugh. But instead of being me as a comic, something that has taken me a few years to figure out (and still am figuring out) I told my safe set. So I lost and could not even leave with my pride. It is as if the comedy gods tell me to develop my own style and be true to it, but all the opportunities that come up with a hint of potential success tempt me to go lite in the hopes of getting a leg up in the business. Here is what I would have done differently last night if I could have it over again:
Told the woman in the front row to shut the fu-k up. Not as clever as Vos’ stuff, but would have felt good.
Told my Kobe (“Great Comedic Timing”), Diamond Maker and My Private 9/11 jokes (first 2 available on iTunes, third available on rooftop comedy).
Simple changes, but would have made a huge difference – not in the result, but in my pride in my performance. But this is a moot point because I sh*t the bed in competition. I’m surprised I didn’t revert back to calling myself the love child of The Rock and Adam Sandler while having a conversation between Robert DeNiro and Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Sorry if this seems too much like a mope fest. The chance to perform comedy at a great venue and not be required to bring people is an opportunity I am thankful for. And special thanks to my friends who showed up last night. The comedy system as it is set up puts as much a strain on the friends of relatives of comics as it does the comics (the ones who show up regularly at least). There is a balance between supporting your friends and risk hearing the same jokes over and over again versus the comic’s dilemma of trying to perfect the jokes they have while trying to perform new ones so your friends do not get bored and stop coming to the show. One thing the bringers have shown me is who amongst my friends really supports my dream and comedy and who doesn’t. As Batman said at the end of The Dark Knight – “sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded.” Well, if there is a silver lining to taking comedy bait for all of these years it is that I can see and appreciate who amongst my people who have shown some faith in my comedy.
I think I just wish comedy was just about comedy. Like some sort of warped John Lennon song imagine there was no YouTube, No Bringers, No Contests – just comedy. Or maybe I just have to be more disciplined and principled with my comedy. Checking my next few shows on my calendar are a bringer, another competition (serious reconsideration) and a couple of auditions – to quote Lloyd Bridges from Airplane, “Looks like I picked the wrong week to find principles.”