So I started hosting stand-up comedy nights about 2 months ago. Before my rough initiation, I used to think the M.C.’s job was easy — get up, say hello, do a set of jokes, then introduce each comic.   I couldn’t have been more wrong; hosting takes a *hell* of a lot more energy than stand-up alone. The M.C. sets the tone for the entire night right from the get-go, and has to keep the energy pumping from one comic to the next.  If a comic bombs, the M.C. has to get up and take the hits, raising the energy before the next comic gets up — all of which requires constantly reading the audience, riffing with them, tagging the previous comic’s jokes, and building the anticipation for the next man or woman up.  This isn’t easy to do in the moment, considering the host has to be timing and giving the red light to the comics on stage while fielding questions from other comics backstage while adjusting the line-up as needed while listening to the current comic and audience for snappy material ideas while trying to memorize the name of the next comic you’ve never heard of while writing material on the spot to introduce him/her. That’s a lot to juggle all at the same time.

But there’s something deeper at work.  This’ll sound corny, but the host is the embodiment of the love and respect in the room who has to maintain the flow, order, energy, and laughs both backstage and on stage.  Every comic who gets up deserves a warm, receptive audience, and a rocking intro, and the host must deliver.  If the audience isn’t responding, try something new.  Riff.  Do a backbend.  Whatever’s required.  The host *should not* leave the stage before the audience is primed.  It’s irresponsible.  It’s shocking how many times a host will bring up comics when the audience is cold — or even pissed off — which leaves the fresh comic having to spend 2-3 minutes building the energy back up, and if the comic’s a beginner, forget it.  A comic who’s forced to do that should be given the M.C.’s pay for the night.

2 weeks ago I was given the honor of introducing the M.C. for a hot pro show with a packed audience of 160 people and a string of hot comics warming up.  With a shit-eating grin, I ran on stage under the hot lights, grabbed the mic, and said hello…and nothing.  The mic was dead.  While the crew ran around trying to get it working, I found myself in a tough spot.  I could’ve just yelled hello to the crowd and brought up the host, but that would’ve *sucked* for him.  What would he do with no mic?  Since I was essentially playing M.C. to the M.C., I decided it would’ve been unfair to bring him on before an audience that hadn’t been spun up yet.  So I just stood there and riffed, yelling the whole time so the crowd could hear me.  I tried physical comedy.  I did a little dance.  I pranced around like a dork.  And eventually the mic came back on…but only after a grueling THREE MINUTES of sweating it out mime-style for a 180 people.  I was dripping.  Fucking rough.  I grabbed the mic and said hello.  And you should’ve heard the laughs and applause.  It was appreciation that I’d held the helm.  Once you sit down in that Captain’s chair, the audience bonds with you and wants to trust you.  And you must not, cannot, betray that.

Give great comics a bad host and the evening may be lost; but give a great host to beginner acts and the audience should be roaring. 

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 29th, 2008 at 7:40 pm and is filed under Comedy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.