Saturday night I did 10 minutes of my favorite material for a SF audience and it hit well. Bits about growing up in a redneck town, German guilt, Tom Cruise, my knack for attracting lesbians, and a short bit about my shrink got decent laughs through the end, with two applause breaks. So far, not bad.
But Friday night was another story. Friday I did the same 10 minutes in SF for a younger crowd that, I later found out, was mostly from a suburban town 40 miles east of SF.
A red flag should’ve been flapping. Young is one audience; suburban is another; young and suburban is a third. And San Francisco is another audience altogether, with all of its many subgenres—straight, gay, urban, geeks, etc. The backwards trucker caps in the audience and short skirts in the 40-degree SF nighttime weather should’ve been hints that these people were not from SF, and that adjustments to my set might’ve be necessary. But of course, OF COURSE, I failed to scope out the crowd. Bad move.
I’m second up. The MC gives me a warm intro and I jump up to do my 10. I open with with the redneck jokes, then go into Tom Cruise, and all’s fine—the crowd’s embraced me and I’m 4-5 minutes in. But then I start the German bit. As soon as I say ‘German’ and ‘guilt’, I feel a downturn in the room’s energy. A sudden cold breeze. There are still laughs, but something’s shifted in a way I’ve not sensed before. And instead of turning outward toward the flesh-and-blood people sitting there, I turn in.
I finish German with some ok laughs and get into Lesbians. I hear some initial shock, then some laughs, then another energy downturn—but worse than before. It feels almost like people are afraid to laugh—they’re missing the ironies, and sticking on the word ‘lesbian’ just like they seemed to stick on ‘german’ and ‘guilt’.
At this point, I have a choice. I can trudge forward and try to finish Lesbians, really milking it, trying to get the audience back, or I can stop the bit cold and rip on myself with self-deprecating cracks about the bit falling on its face, and then try some other topic.
I decide to power forward…because in the back of my mind I’m thinking, just wait for it, people, this bit’s heelarious and the big punches are coming! And when the punches finally arrive—and they usually kill—I get nothing. NOTHING. Not a single laugh. Zero. A sea of faces just looking back at me in the dark. Again, at this point, I should’ve pointed at my glaring failure. I should’ve exploded it on stage, shined a spotlight on it, let the crowd know that I knew that they knew I’d just eaten shit….
But I don’t. Instead, I fool myself. I think, hey, I’ve got an ace in the hole: my big 1-minute closer! That’ll get ‘em! So without commenting on the previous 2 minutes of totally obvious and horrifying silence, I go for the big ending—and again, NOTHING. Fail fail fail. I say good night and get applause, finally…as I leave the stage…and after ending on nothing. I jog off totally embarrassed and hoping nobody taped that shit.
A few people in the audience came up to me after and said they’d liked my act, but it didn’t heal the sucking wound. I’d served myself a huge lesson. None of the other comics ate it that night because they either worked hard at connecting with the crowd, or they adjusted their material to better feed younger and suburban appetites.
Let my failure shine as a beacon, o fellow comics.
May 12th, 2009 at 11:26 pm
being a teacher at CDM I see so many fat teenage girls with mid-riff shirts. they actually think their fat is sexy.
fuckin’ kids. I mean when I went to school, fat chicks new they were fat and hit it with their baggy 80′s garb. these kids today flout there flabby fat-fat with no shame and none of their cohorts shame them into covering up.
things sure have fucking changed since the mid eighties.
i think it was eddie veddar and that kobain character that gave kudos to kids who didn’t wash their hair in the early nineties that gave rise to fatty girl teenagers having no shame on their big bellies. and, you’d think in so. orange county the fatties would try to cover up.
fucking teenagers. i’m around them all fucking day long and i still don’t get them.
schmucks.
can’t wait till summer.
May 12th, 2009 at 11:20 pm
Wow.
I’m a bit stoned right now. Is that a fat mexican chick kicking a vietnamese teenager right in the balls, or are they both mexican.
from the facial features in the snapshot the dude kinda looks of the asian sort.
fuck if i know.
April 30th, 2009 at 3:48 pm
Oh: and Scotch W. you should get into porn also. You’re in shape and you got a kinda new look that would fit in the industry. You could be a nastier barret blade except you’re better looking and more in shape.
New dick is great dick for us girls in the biz cuz its clean dick. Come and join the party funny man.
April 30th, 2009 at 3:40 pm
Ugggggggh,
I’m glad I ran into your site today. That photo up above is fucking hilarious. me and my porn mates are so fucking stressed about this swine flu shit.
yes, i’m an adult film star that fucks and sucks for money.
tomorrow i have a shoot on the hustler set. the H-set is what we call the cattle ranch. its one huge air plane hanger with 50 sets under one roof.
I’m gonna be making 1100 dollars tomorrow for 2 hours worth of work. It will be an asian sandwich scene. meaning, I’ll be the asian and my two other fuck buddies will be a white woman and a white man. i’ll be taking it up the ass tomorrow without a condom while I’ll be eating out the pussy of a white girl, hence I’m the meat in the asian sandwich.
Noing that I’m gonna be fucked up the ass tomorrow without a condom doesn’t frighten me. I’m surprised that I’m less scared of aids than i am of the swine flu.
I sware if one fucking mexican on the set sneezes i’m outty 5000. fuck larry flynt. I will not be around a mexican that sneezes tomorrow – 1100 dollars or not.
If you think that I’m stupid because I’m more worried about the swine flu than by catching aids because of sum white stud fucking me up the ass is crazy. Then you should also know that most white people don’t get my porn stage name. no one gets my porn name even though every fucking michael chriton and john grisham book writes about my name – except it’s inverted.
Dah. Langley Virginia. The CIA. I love cia psyops. It makes me wet from the power and tricks you round eyes play on the world to get your way. My fantasy is to suck off the CIA director right in his Langley, Virginia office. Sweeeet.
ScotchMann, you are cute and funny. plus I love the real retarded corky police cop you swiped off you tube. funny as shit. I am still laughing my ass off. Ugggh I’m so freaked out right now about mexicans on tomorrow’s set. I swear if i see a sick looking wet-back i’m telling the film crew to go fuck themselves.
After the swine epidemic leaves you and me wichie poo. Bev Hills Hilton. you and me and its on me.
April 30th, 2009 at 8:29 am
Hey Brother O, you’re totally right. Every comic has to develop his/her own intuition about a crowd. It’s strikes me as odd that with all the mentors I’ve had, the workshops, books, peers I’ve had drunken theory talks with, etc., nobody has ever really sat down to talk about the differences between audiences – city vs. suburban, old vs. young, etc., and what to avoid with each. You’ve probably heard the addage that “funny is funny…be funny and it’ll appeal to everyone,” but that is total b.s. That’s the fastest path to Hackville. Every joke you write will have a critic, or someone who just doesn’t get it, who someone who was sleeping, or finds the topic boring…. I guess I’m saying that if the majority of the audience falls into this camp during a bit, the savvy comic will ditch it and cut to something else. My problem was that I couldn’t tell if the audience was quiet because they were just enjoying the ride — listening to the story, etc. — or if they were freaked out or bored or what. When to bail, and how to bail, are what I’m pondering, and what I’ll be testing in the weeks to come. Currently I don’t have a parachute, not having been in that situation before. But bet your ass I’m sewing several right this minute. –s
April 30th, 2009 at 12:50 am
Love that photo and “crop” shot! Laughing.
You’ve got a good media eye and sense of comedic placement on your site. You or your web developer does.
Do you do your own webbery? If you do, you are pretty fucking good. You can make money doing this shit for hollywood entertainment if you went south. All the major networks and cable channels need good web people with a sense of theme, flow, and comedic or dramatic placement on their sites.
SW, If you or your web developer want a steady day job in LA for a major network I can land you a job immediately. Yes, you are that F***ing good. Our web guy has the technical talent that you have but not the theme-vibe for placement and creation. You or your web developer does have this talent that our guy just hasn’t gotten yet.
Note my email address along with the time of this commented post in the fan section your site. I’ll set up a phone conference with my boss. I’m not a talent agent; I’m a manager within the network itself. We need someone like you – like yesterday. Please write back. My cell number, and name will be within the email I sent in your fan mail form.
Thanks,
Photoshop Girl
April 30th, 2009 at 12:29 am
Hey man,
I’ve seen you in SF proper and you kicked ass!
My brother, who never made the laughs that you made, went through the same shit. You, my brother, and other comedians more talented than my brother went through the same shit you just kind of described. I know this because I saw more talented comics than him who had a better wit than he had when I followed him around to different area comedy clubs adjacent to SF having some of the same problems – just like you had; just like he had and just like better comics than he had. You are better than my brother and better than the comics who were better than him.
So, you are going through the “shit” just like all comedians have to, even Richard Pryor.
From what I know about you, you are not a veteran yet, but you are ahead of where most veterans were when they started. I think you’ve got a great repartee from what I’ve seen and heard coming from your person.
You’re a pretty good fucking writer also. Should write a book about the comedic experience after you go through your 3 to 5 year learning curve before you hit pro.
The brave thing that I picked out from what you wrote within this blogged experience is that I think your gut and heart told you to pull the plug, but you were gutsy enough to go against them to really find out if you could give this crowd a chance. I think your intellect took over and stood its ground and said, “Hey, wait. If I want to learn how to categorize a crowd, I must first see if they will bite. This means that I will have to risk failure in one battle in order to learn how to properly categorize an audience.” I’m not saying your brain said this internally while you were focusing on your gig, but subconsciously and receptively your mind had the balls to stay and learn – even if it meant temporarily biting it for the set.
The fucked up thing is that new talent who are getting out of their nascent stage haven’t learned to hold some sort of ground so they can learn and properly categorize. Instead, the first sign of a no laugh from the audience they go reflexive and start with the “dick” and “who is going to be sleeping in the wet spot jokes” before seeing how and when a crowd may turn back towards your set repartee. And, because many of new talent and older talent comics pull the scarred-run tactic of going into the banal joke, they will never leave the strata they’re in to grow as a real pro comic.
SW, you did the right thing. True pros after several years can categorize Johnny on the spot. But, in order to get that skill set they first had to risk a few sets to learn how to properly categorize so that they could get better by knowing their audience sooner than later. But first you gotta pay your dues, and that is by learning to categorize your audience. You do this by fucking up a few sets. It’s called losing some battles but winning the war 5 years from now. In the interim it means you bite the pillow, give your girl or guy friend some mean sex, obsess over the fucked set at work, etc.
I think you are ahead of the pack; you didn’t run even though your gut and shrinking balls-sack said, “Turn to the easy laugh dick joke, before I wee-wee myself”. Your mind said, “Fuck that. I won’t learn that way. Don’t be such a pussy, balls-sack!”
Your brain did right and it will pay off down the road.