Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The Truth About Doug Stanhope

If you only know Doug Stanhope from the second iteration of "The Man Show," you don't know Doug Stanhope.

"I'm glad - if only for the experience and the first-hand knowledge of how smothered the creative process gets when you deal with television and their lot," Stanhope said. "I only wish that all the execs who called the shots were equally shamed publicly for the finished product."

Stanhope is at his best when he's uncensored and unrestricted, which is why he's got such a huge cult following but you've never seen him on network television.

"I don't know that it would be as challenging as it would be just not funny," Stanhope said of that possibility. "My act cleaned up is like NASCAR running at 35 mph."

While many other comedians shuck and jive to get TV appearances and fame, Doug Stanhope stubbornly remains Doug Stanhope, and relies on networks like Showtime to get his comedy out to the masses. Even Stanhope's home address is contrary to the industry -he lives in Bisbee, Arizona – a town 10 miles from the Mexican border with a population of around 6,000.

"Nobody cares, there's no problems. You can have dogs, paint your house whatever color you like," Stanhope said about Bisbee. "It might not be the fertile breeding ground for stories about hookers and LSD but it's home."

On a recent episode of Louie, Stanhope played Eddie Mack, a comedian living in his car, playing seedy bars, and planning on killing himself. Stanhope's performance was masterful, and a piece of Eddie really reminded me of Doug.

Stanhope is much more successful than Eddie, and much more at peace with the business and himself. While Stanhope plays seedy bars, he does it on purpose, and he's clearly not planning on ending things any time soon. The part that reminded me of Eddie is Stanhope's relentless belief that comedy should be about truth.

Stanhope's brilliances comes from his egalitarian honesty. "I'm leading you into battle," Stanhope's album Deadbeat Hero aptly starts. "You're not all going to be here at the end."

My favorite bit of Stanhope's (also one of his favorites) is a story he told about a one-night stand with a woman named Bobbie Barnett. He used her real name in the story, and when a born-again Barnett angrily wrote to him many years later, he used her real name on his website, too. The bit (and subsequent letter) is a magnificently frank exploration of the fleeting nature of beauty, and Stanhope does not come off as the bad guy for revealing her. Like it does in the rest of his act, his honesty makes him the hero.

And while you'll never see Stanhope playing a president on Saturday Night Live or participating in a goofy cooking segment on the Today Show, you can see him at those seedy bars, seedier rock clubs, and other such venues around the world. When you do, it's my honest opinion that you'll enjoy it.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Dan St. Paul's Perfect Pitch

It is rare that a comedian as successful as Dan St. Paul can walk down the street unrecognized. But Dan St. Paul isn't successful from television or movies – he's the rare comedian that hit it big on the radio.

Even if you don't know the name, you probably still know the bit; St. Paul's religious satire classic "First Baseball Game" is a favorite on Bob & Tom's uber-syndicated morning show, and is also wildly popular on the internet.

And it's not just St. Paul's face you might not recognize – you might not even know his voice, since most of the bit is done as an impression of late Cubs' announcer Harry Carey.

"I love baseball and I was raised Catholic," St Paul said about the evolution of the bit. "The homophones ‘penance' and ‘pennants' inspired me to make a list of religious and baseball terms. I started putting them together and the bit wrote itself."

There's some exceedingly clever word play in the bit, as well as tons of well-placed biblical references. "Water! Water!," one concessioner yells, before pausing and yelling "Wine!"

"I almost have to do the bit because if I don't, people come up to me after the show to express their disappointment," St. Paul said about his live shows. "I've actually done the bit for people after the show was over so they wouldn't go home disappointed."

St. Paul's live shows are a mix between clubs, theaters, and a great deal of corporate work. It's been a strange journey for a comedian who first started in 1980, and made his TV debut in 1981.

Like many comedians during the boom, St. Paul eventually moved to Los Angeles. But he didn't enjoy the eight years he spent there, especially "the glad handing and schmoozing." St. Paul returned to his native San Francisco in 1994, and calls that the smartest thing he's done for his career.

"I came back to the high-tech revolution and made a killing in the corporate market," St. Paul said. "I was able to buy a nice house a raise a family."

At home, St. Paul can miraculously have the financial security of a success with the anonymity of a failure – it's a combination that many entertainers seek but few achieve. And while St. Paul is one of the most sought after acts on the corporate market and has toured with legends like Ringo Starr and Chicago, he says the highlight of his career came just 8 months ago at The State Theater in the small town of Bay City, Michigan. After another Bob & Tom favorite failed to show, St. Paul had to improvise.

"I did an hour and 45 minutes and 400 people gave me a standing ovation," St. Paul said. "I immediately thought, "Where's HBO when you need them?'"

The strange thing is that St. Paul is one of the few comedians who doesn't need them.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Theo Von's Reality Check

Ten years ago, Theo Von couldn't walk into a bar without someone recognizing him from MTV's Road Rules. Interesting twist on an old punch line: "A man can't walk into a bar."

It was a bar that actually started it all for Von - he auditioned for Road Rules at a college bar at Louisiana State University. And that show changed everything.

"It was some of the best times of my life," Von said about his time on Road Rules (and subsequent MTV spinoffs). "[I] traveled the U.S. and the world, doing insane things, meeting loads of chicks. Being young."

Von was 20 when he was cast, right about the same time he started doing standup. Unlike many reality stars who try standup as a last gasp for fame before their candle burns out, Von's intention was to become a comedian, and Reality TV was just a fun way to spend a few years.

When it came to a career in standup, reality TV didn't always help Von. In 2005 and 2006, I toured colleges with Von as part of "The Immature Tour." Myself, Von, Adam Hunter, and Dan Levy were in our mid-twenties at the time, and Levy, Hunter and I had no real TV credits behind us. But most of the crowds had heard of Von, even though they didn't know he was a comedian. Many nights I watched Von have to overcome expectations inadvertently created by his edited reality persona while crowds adjusted to him being a standup.

"It doesn't matter who you are when you get on that stage, you have to do your act," Von said. "Comedy is comedy."

And while Road Rules gave Von the boost (and the money) it takes to jump start a career as a comic, it was Von's talent that prevented him from going down the road to has-been traveled by so many of his cast mates.

Von's first taste of comedy came while still in college, during a semester at sea. The boat had been at sea for 11 days and the cafeteria was still serving fresh milk. "We haven't seen land in 11 days, milk would have spoiled," Von remembers saying. "What are we milking? Who are we milking?"

It was Von's bizarre take on the mundane and instant likability that ironically led him away from reality TV - to more reality television in 2006, this time on Last Comic Standing. Voted back on as a crowd favorite, Von received major exposure, but this time for his comedy.

His material landed him a spot on Live at Gotham in 2008. Soon after, he performed for ten nights in a row to 1500 people in Johannesburg. And this December, he'll be taping his first special for Comedy Central. Theo Von the comedian is long out of the shadow previously cast by Theo Von the reality star.

"I may have gotten my fill during those years," Von said.

Oddly enough, Von still owes some of his recent success to reality - but a different kind. His website,, has exploded in popularity, broadening his fan base significantly. Though while he's doing the prank texting, no one knows it is him.

So for the first time in ten years, Von can have a bit of anonymity. Until his special airs.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Who Wants Tommy Savitt Now?

On stage, Tommy Savitt is simple. His delivery is slow and measured and his character is the id run amuck.

"You know how many marriages I've saved?" Savitt asks on stage. "Once you cheat on him with me, you'll never do it again." Savitt finishes the bit with his trademark question, "Who wants me now?"

Savitt's career has mimicked his act; it's been a relatively straightforward progression marked by a few sudden and unexpected twists.

Savitt first took the stage in February of 1994 to an easy crowd – he had 75 of his fellow Brooklyn Law students cheering him on. He dabbled for the next eight years in front of less friendly audiences before a move to Los Angeles forced him to pursue road work. It was either that or survive on LA club spot pay – "a whopping $11.50 a set."

Savitt had his share (and perhaps a few other's shares as well) of knocks coming up – including one night in Pennsylvania being chased through the audience by a man threatening to throw a pitcher of beer at him.

"Ironically, this guy was enjoying my set," Savitt said of the man trying to douse him. "I guess they have strange customs in those yonder parts."

That description reminds me of something out of Savitt's set. An accessible explanation mixed with a twinge of education and sarcasm. But it's that accessibility that has allowed Savitt to become one of the more popular acts on satellite radio.

"They recognize me once they hear my voice," Savitt says of the multitudes who listen to his clips several times each week on Sirius/XM's "Blue Collar Radio." "Some people are flying or driving from other states to catch my show. I am truly blessed."

Strange to think of a lawyer from Brooklyn as "blue collar," but Savitt is a perfect fit. While the word has been misused in the last decade as a synonym for "white trash," the actual meaning is a working class American. And a comic that has been chased by a pitcher of beer in the woods of Pennsylvania certainly passes that test.

Blue Collar is perfect to describe a city like Boston. Though also teeming with college students and the finance industry, there is a large contingent of people who could have (and might have) been extras in Good Will Hunting.

"I was low on money and had no expectations of winning," Savitt said of the Boston Comedy Festival, which he almost pulled out of, but later won. "For whatever reason I trudged on because that's just what I do."

It's also what he did that same year in Seattle, winning the Seattle International Comedy Competition as well. And it's also what he did with his wildly successful album, "Who Wants Me Now?," which, unlike most albums on the market, actually sells more copies each month it's out.

Earlier this year, Savitt released a uniquely updated version of the album, with new takes on the jokes that originally made him a cult hero for the proletariat. And as Savitt gains in popularity, his new album is increasing in sales as well. Not bad for someone who has never done a spot on network television.

"I truly believe the universe is allowing me to hone my act without major scrutiny," Savitt said.

Hone quickly, Tommy – while your delivery might be slow, your rise is not.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Tom Simmons: The Ultimate Contrarian

Find a sacred cow and comedian Tom Simmons will gut it and serve it for dinner. He's got material criticizing patriotism, supporting Tiger Woods, even lampooning Martin Luther King Jr. for his infidelity. He actually does those last two in the same joke.

"All I care about is Tigers golf," Simmons says in his act, holding back his trademark smirk. "Martin Luther King Jr was famous for cheating on Coretta, does that make his message invalid just cause a couple of his dreams were wet ones?"

Simmons has an uncanny ability to find something that the rest of the world agrees with only to prove them wrong. His logic is methodical and relentless, which makes him impossible to beat. That's especially difficult since he argues with just about everything. He even argued with me when I told him he was argumentative. Really, that happened.

I asked him why he talks politics in his act so often. He said that even though people tell him that constantly, he doesn't feel it's true. I asked him how he feels about being a "comic's comic," and he said that phrase "seems to be a nice way of saying that crowds don't really agree."

I even asked him about his success, and he said he's not successful. This is the same guy who won the prestigious San Francisco International Comedy Competition – a competition that has seen Robin Williams, Kevin Pollack, Ellen DeGeneres, Mark Curry, Nick DiPaolo, Marc Maron, and Dane Cook all finish second.

"I remember feeling like if I could work the road and make $500 a week I would be a huge success," Simmons said. "My goals are higher than that now. I try to make $650."

And while Simmons is kidding about the dollar value of his act, it's a great example of what he does on stage. Simmons finds something the sheeple of the world have accepted, turns it on its head with an exaggeration, and shows the audience why they should wake up and agree.

"Ultimate success for me will be if my son can go back through my comedy CDs and be proud of what I did and said as a comedian and a man," said Simmons. "He of course has that kind money to throw around because his daddy will have made buckets of it selling out theaters touring off his HBO specials."

Simmons is constantly twisting the world around him, causing everyone else to doubt what they previously defined as truth. But ask Simmons about being a professional contrarian, and he humbly won't accept the premise of the question.

"I haven't turned pro yet," said the comedian with five live albums and multiple television appearances. "I just sorta picked up a stage or a gig here or there, lived out of my car occasionally and slowly built places that would let me get on stage."

Every year, those stages grow. And every year, new crowds are finding out what comedians have already known for years – that Tom Simmons is a tremendously funny comic.

I dare you to disagree.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

The Softer Side of Lisa Lampanelli

Known best for her scathing roasts and even dubbed "The Queen of Mean," Lisa Lampanelli has never been accused of being a nice person. Except by almost everyone she's ever worked with.

"I am absolutely aware that I am a softy offstage," Lampanelli said. "From what I heard, so is Rickles."

Lampanelli's comedy is anything but soft. In the tradition of Don Rickles, Lampanelli is a classic insult comic (her website is even Her act is brash, aggressive, and leaves no stone un-abused.

"It's no coincidence George Hamilton loves the sun. They were born in the same year," Lampanelli said during a roast. "The difference is the sun is actually a star."

Her "Queen of Mean" persona is how she landed on the Comedy Central Roasts, a huge boost for her career. The Friar's Club used to produce the roasts, and Lampanelli was known among its members for her insult comedy.

"The Friars pushed and pushed and Comedy Central finally agreed to put me on two weeks before the taping," Lampanelli said of the Chevy Chase roast, her TV debut. "It was the greatest thing that has ever happened to my career."

Even more amazing was that Lampanelli was at the Hugh Hefner roast the year before – as a member of the audience. Hard to imagine, since she's such a fixture on their dais now.

Her other big break was her association with the Howard Stern Show. Lampanelli's star has brightened by magnitudes due to her regular appearances with Stern, who's influence she's compared to that of Johnny Carson.

"Once Howard makes it known he likes you, his audience buys in and your popularity absolutely rises," Lampanelli said. "I have been the luckiest person ever since I have been associated with him."

My theory is that her warmth off-stage also has something to do with her success. It's why Howard Stern and the Friar's Club and so many others want to work with her, and encourage others to do the same.

In 2004, I ran into Lampanelli at the Hollywood Improv as a wide-eyed 25-year-old, overwhelmed by the glitz surrounding me during my first trip to LA. Though I'd only met her a few times before, Lampanelli immediately invited me over to her table and drove me from club to club the rest of the night, introducing me to everyone. Her kindness was infectious.

There was even a moment that night at the Comedy Store where a disheveled "comedian" approached Lampanelli, looking like he'd just gotten back from an audition for "Junkie #4." He introduced himself and asked if he could crash in her hotel room. Lampanelli wished him luck, encouraged him not to ask any other headliners the same question, and politely said no. She's nice, but she's not crazy.

The same altruism that led her to help me (and politely decline Junkie #4) also led her to one of the more inventive stands against the zealotous Westboro Baptist Church.

Known for their protests of military funerals and "God Hates Fags" signs, the WBC announced that they'd be picketing Lampanelli's show in Topeka, Kansas. Lampanelli promised to donate $1,000 to the Gay Men's Health Crisis for every protester that showed up. That night, the WBC inadvertently raised $50,000 for gay rights.

"We are more than one-dimensional," Lampanelli said of insult comics. "That was one of the most gratifying checks I've ever written."

What a softy.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Middle With Greg Fitzsimmons

Greg Fitzsimmons has won four Emmy Awards, has his own show on Sirius/XM, and has over 50 TV appearances. He's a regular on Howard Stern, Letterman, Conan, and seemingly everything that's ever aired on VH1. His podcast is wildly successful, his book "Dear Mrs. Fitzsimmons" did incredibly well, and he's about to host a new series on the Speed Channel called "Pumped." But all that and he's not a household name.

"I have made it to the middle in show business and I really like it here," Fitzsimmons said. "I'm not sure that more money or fame would bring me more happiness."

Fitzsimmons' happiness comes in part from the career he spent so many years building up. Growing up "obsessed" with standup, his first appearance was at a talent show his senior year of high school.

"There were drugs involved that night," Fitzsimmons remembered about his routine bashing the faculty. "The principal unplugged my microphone half way through."

After the standard demeaning rise ("I once had a woman vomit on me after I followed a comedian dressed up as a clam," Fitzsimmons said.), Fitzsimmons landed a gig hosting Idiot Savants, a game show on MTV that lasted from December 1996 til April 1997.

But that same year, Fitzsimmons landed a sitcom deal, a show on the USA Network, and a number of other TV appearances. The next decade and a half was a steady climb, much of it centered around his long-term relationship with The Howard Stern Show.

"Stern is like required listening for everybody in show business," Fitzsimmons said about the man who gave him his own show. "You cannot explain how someone gets as successful as him, but being near it gives you a confidence that you should go out and do it your own way."

The other part of Fitzsimmons' happiness comes from his family. Fitzsimmons even sent his mother his first Emmy.

"I think she has dinner with it every night," Fitzsimmons said.

But it was Fitzsimmons' father, radio personality Bob Fitzsimmons, that gave him the advice that would help shape him.

"My father told me when I first started that standup is exciting and I should pursue it, but that writing would be the thing that would give me power over my career," Fitzsimmons said. "I never have to take a road gig or a writing gig I don't want because I always have the ability to play one against the other."

Fitzsimmons standup also reflects his writing ability. Much of his set is made up of short and to-the-point perfectly structured jokes.

"I'm not saying [the TSA] was intense at the screening," Fitzsimmons set up during one of his Letterman appearances. "But tomorrow night the guy who frisked me is introducing me to his parents."

Writing for shows like "Ellen" and the Emmy Awards themselves also allow Fitzsimmons to spend time at home with his wife and kids. And to obtain a kind of happiness we all seek.

"Irish parents will try to off-set their low self-esteem by producing successful children so nobody can look down on them," Fitzsimmons only half joked. "My dad was really proud of me. It was a nice thing."

While many stand-ups fill their lives with regret and a desperate desire to achieve whatever is next, Fitzsimmons is content with his "middle." Well, almost content.

"I make a great living doing exactly what I want and have a lot of choices at any given time," Fitzsimmons said. "I would, at some point however, like to do blow in a Porsche with Paulie Shore."

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Christian Finnegan’s Humble Beginnings

Christian Finnegan is a regular on “Are We There Yet,” a show with 44 episodes already under its belt and entering its third season on TBS this fall. But talk to him and he comes off like the average working comedian.

“Right now, I’m able to pay my rent and go on the occasional vacation. If I want to order an appetizer, I order an appetizer,” said Finnegan about his success. “Next year, who can say?”

Finnegan credits his wife for his abilities, the only plug he gave me was for his Twitter (@ChristFinnegan – a joke about the hubristic nature of his name), and is even humble about his remarkable weight loss. While many people would throw that in the face of anyone who’d listen (and even some who wouldn’t), Finnegan doesn’t even mention it in his act.

“I don’t talk about it onstage,” Finnegan said of dropping a startling 88 pounds in under a year. “I’ve found that there is nothing less funny than actual accomplishment.”

Which are two words I’d use when discussing Finnegan: funny and accomplishment. A former writer and guest on “Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn,” Finnegan has been on “The Late Late Show,” “Last Call with Carson Daly,” “Countdown with Keith Olbermann,” and dozens more. He was a series regular on “Best Week Ever,” had roles in movies like “Knight and Day,” and has had two very successful albums. But when I asked Finnegan when he turned pro, his answer was, “any day now.”

Even when it comes to “Chad,” his iconic character on the “Mad Real World” sketch on “Chappelle’s Show,” Finnegan cites luck and not his obvious talent.

“How cool is that?” Finnegan asked about of having “Chappelle’s Show” on his resume. “I’ve always felt like a guy in the stands who caught a home run ball.”

Finnegan first started his journey towards turning a hobby into a career in 1997 at an open mic in NYC in “a room full of wacko poets, musicians, drug-addicted ranters and wannabe cult leaders.” And it was these early days of getting knocked around that helped him stay grounded.

Finnegan’s first big goal was to perform on a show called “Eating It,” the most popular live standup show in New York at the time. He finally got his spot the same night that Wanda Sykes dropped by.

“The show went great and I walked out that night foolishly thinking that Wanda Sykes and I were now ‘peers’,” Finnegan said, before explaining that his day job at the time was to dress up like a Christmas elf and take Polaroids at corporate holiday parties.

The next day, Finnegan put on his costume and snapped photos at a party at Caroline’s on Broadway, the biggest comedy club in New York. The featured entertainment that night was Wanda Sykes.

“As I stood there in my green tights and rubber pointy shoes watching her absolutely destroy,” said Finnegan, “I realized maybe Ms. Sykes and I weren’t peers after all.”

Maybe that’s why Finnegan’s comedy is so relatable. Even when he’s a television star, he still manages to be the everyman, going through the same daily humiliations we all face.

“There is no such thing as having ‘made it,’ there is only ‘making it.’” Finnegan said. “A good comedian never stops feeling demeaned.”

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Brighter Side of Myq Kaplan

I asked Myq Kaplan if he could tell me the smartest thing he'd done for his career.

"The smartest thing I ever did," Myq said, "was answer this question humbly."

I'd argue that the smartest thing he ever did was long before he became a comedian - to channel the teasing that many intelligent kids receive into a whip-smart and bankable sense of humor.

Kaplan has gone from making his TV debut on Live at Gotham to sets on The Tonight Show, The Late Late Show, and Comedy Central Presents to almost winning Last Comic Standing in under three years.

"Blowing up quickly comes as the result of many years of not blowing up quickly," Kaplan said of his overnight success that was nine years in the making. "Put yourself out there as much as possible to create the right-place-right-time phenomenon that is more statistically likely to occur the more places you are, and the more time you spend there."

Kaplan's professional right-place-right-time journey started in Boston in 2002, and continues today in New York. While Kaplan can kill in a coffee shop, he's equally as comfortable in a club full of tourists. Both cities have a big nerd-comedy scene, but Kaplan can play both the alternative rooms and the mainstream clubs.

"I prefer dork," Kaplan said, in response to the eternal nerd-dork debate. "Even though the definition of nerd is probably "someone who deliberates over what differentiates a nerd and a dork."

Nerd vs Dork aside, there are two main types of smart comedy. The first is a show like "Frasier," where the audience has to be smart to get many of the jokes. The second is a show like "The Colbert Report" where anyone of average intelligence gets the jokes, but the smarter the audience is, the funnier the show gets.

Kaplan has developed squarely into that second category. His jokes are intelligent, yet accessible. And there's enough funny in his act that you'll still be laughing even if you miss a few of his quicker tags. And there are plenty.

This is a guy who helped me write the best tag I had during a set on the Late Late Show even before he had been on TV himself. This is a guy who is getting such a rabid fan following that his CD ("Vegan Mind Meld") sells an increasing number of copies each month it's out. This is a guy who, when he was still banging around Boston in 2006, impressed me so much on a comedy message board that I hired him a few weeks later.

His intelligence, his relevance, and his patience were all fueled by the same thing many of us faced as children: other people's ignorance.

"I am pretty happy," Kaplan said, when asked about the bullying he received as a kid. "If I had a time machine that could go back and make my childhood different without destroying the universe or creating parallel dimensions or creating any negative effects whatsoever (the most boring time machine movie in history, or in future), I don't know that I would."

I hope not. Because then we'd be left with one less comedian smart enough to tell a good time travel joke.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Evolution of Doug Benson

Doug Benson's "The Benson Interruption" is comedy progress, and not just in format. A new spin on the tired comedy showcase, the show is simultaneously classic and contemporary, and hilariously different. Just like Benson himself.

The show was born as a live performance in Los Angeles, moved to a 6-episode run on Comedy Central, and now lives on as a successful podcast. Like it's creator, the Benson Interruption is constantly evolving.

"The idea comes from the funny things the comedians standing in the back of the room say," Benson explained. "Surprisingly, all of my comedian friends embraced the idea and love doing the show. Or at least they pretend to like it."

Benson is best known as the guy from Best Week Ever, or Last Comic Standing, or Super High Me, or Doug Loves Movies. The point is that whatever iteration they know, people know him.

"Without any one of those," Benson said, "there might be 25% less people at each of my live shows."

Simultaneously a comic's comic and a draw, Benson is a rarity. His cleverness plays to the back of the room he's so fond of, but he's also cultivated an incredibly loyal fan base over the 26 years he's been on stage.

"My television debut wasn't until '89 or so," Benson said. "I'm not a big fan of any of my early appearances, because back then there was a lot of stand-up on TV, so you'd get to be on a lot of shows even though you hadn't completely found your voice. I may still be looking for my voice, for all I know."

26 years in, and Benson is still searching for the perfect joke. Not because he needs to; regularly selling out clubs and getting a ton of TV time would be enough for most comics. Benson pushes himself further because he wants to.

Benson's ever evolving voice will be on display on his fourth album in as many years, "Potty Mouth," which will be released on August 30th.

Four albums in four years, and none of them a slacker's effort. Benson' prolific nature fuels his popularity; his draw is so strong because of his relentless ability to stay current. How many 26-year comedy veterans have mastered Twitter? How many comedians who appeared on A&E's Evening at the Improv also have successful podcasts? How many comedians on VH1's talking head shows actually love the 80s because that's when their careers started?

Benson doesn't just love movies and love the 80s – he was an extra in Blade Runner and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I asked him if he used the films as credits as a young comic.

"Didn't even cross my mind to do that," Benson said, ever evolving. "That would be a pretty cool way to introduce me now. I'll tell the emcee to say those movies at my next show."

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Marc Maron and His Implausible Garage

Three years ago, Marc Maron was broke, twice divorced, and thinking of quitting. Not the quitting the business – quitting life.

"I thought about suicide a lot," Maron recalled in his trademark neurotic way. "Not because I really wanted to kill myself. I just found it relaxing to know that I could if I had to."

But three days ago, Maron was confident, successful, and coming off one of the better keynote speeches in Montreal Comedy Festival history. What a difference 20 million downloads make.

That's how many listeners his critically acclaimed podcast "WTF" has earned in two years. It's the second most popular podcast in the world, and I can't have a conversation after a show without an audience member telling me I should listen to it.

Of course I listen to it. It'd honest, raw, and brilliantly entertaining even if it weren't about standup comedy. Telling a comedian that they should listen to WTF is like telling a doctor they should consider medical school. And according to Maron, the podcast has a healing agent to it, too. At the very least, it does for him.

"I started to understand who I was by talking to other comics and sharing it with you. I started to laugh at things again I was excited to be alive," Maron said. "Doing the podcast and listening to comics was saving my life. I realized that is what comedy can do for people."

In 2004, Maron was a guest on my own short-lived radio show, and I was beyond intimidated by how sharp he was. In 2005, I was a guest on his shorter-lived Air America morning show, where he took me to task on air for my ability to market my comedy, hinting I might be all smoke and mirrors. In 2006, I used that marketing ability to help him deal with the world of MySpace, and he made me deal with his anger and frustration when, like life, his MySpace didn't work out the way he'd hoped.

In 2010, I ran into Maron on the subway. When I gave him an enthusiastic hello, it was as if Maron barely knew who I was – odd after we'd spent years chatting in clubs and on the air. But just a week later, he walked up to me at a party and said his own enthusiastic hello, asking how I was doing with genuine interest behind the question.

And that's Maron – a person that has always been on the brink of both unbridled success and complete breakdown. In a life riddled with failed projects and failed marriages, you never knew which Maron you were going to get.

Myspace was a microcosm of the entertainment industry. MySpace was built for a young, hip demographic and filled with booms and busts, and with no real place for an uneasy voice of candid reason like Marc Maron.

But Myspace's brief success led to the launch of YouTube. And YouTube's wild success led to the democratization of entertainment on the internet. And the democratization of entertainment on the internet led to talent like Maron seeing the medium as a serious channel for creativity. And Maron's podcast let to him finally finding an outlet in an industry that generally ignored his tortured genius for the better part of a quarter century.

"I started doing a podcast in that very garage where I was planning my own demise," Maron said, almost choking on the relief of his own emotion. "I know my place in show business now. It's in my garage."

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Lavell Crawford's Big Day

The phrase "larger than life" usually describes an entertainer's persona on stage, and not his physical appearance. For Lavell Crawford, it's the other way around.

Physically, Crawford is a tremendously large man – large enough that I don't have to describe how large he is. But his voice is calm, reserved – almost small. It's an incredible experience to sit with someone who could clearly project if he wanted to, but instead keeps fairly quiet and lets his career do the talking.

With an hour-long Comedy Central special airing on August 12th, coupled with sales of his CD/DVD everywhere from iTunes to Walmart, Crawford's career has now gotten bigger than the man himself.

"Can a Brother Get Some Love" is Crawford's first full length album. The title is appropriate, as Crawford has spent the better part of the last two decades pursuing that from his fans.

It's been 19 years since Crawford's debut on BET's Comic View, and four years since he came inches away from winning Last Comic Standing. In that time, he has been the definition of a working comic. In between his role on Breaking Bad and his multiple appearances on Comic View, Laffapalooza, Comics Unleashed, and Chelsea Lately, he's played every dive bar, comedy club, and theater across the country.

"It's a nice road," Crawford said of the long journey from open mics to theaters. "I just stepped out on faith, and it worked."

Well, not right away. Crawford described his salad days (though they were still filled with barbecue). He was often sleeping in his Ford Escort and carrying a gun for protection, and one night, a woman knocked on the glass to see if he was okay. The half-asleep comedian thought he was being robbed, so he took out his .380 and aimed it at her. Realizing what was happening, he then apologized, thanked her, and went back to sleep.

Crawford started his professional career at the Comedy Caravan in Louisville, Kentucky, after the club owner liked him and offered him two weeks of road work. At the time, Crawford was already familiar with the road – he was working as a crossing guard.

"They could definitely see me," Crawford joked about his stature, before referring to himself as "a sweet potato in the middle of the road."

When I caught up with him in Baltimore, Crawford and his entourage were staying in four suites in a four-star hotel. It's a luxury he's earned – having steadily climbed the ladder from MC to road dog to special event, Crawford is finally at the point in his career where he can relax and enjoy himself. But his brutal tour schedule is evidence that, while he's fully enjoying it, relaxation will not happen anytime soon.

Crawford's tour includes Providence, Boston, Tampa, Miami, Birmingham, Kansas City, Richmond, Virginia Beach, Cincinnati, Louisville, Columbia, Orlando, Dallas, Nashville, and Los Angeles. And that's all before New Year's.

Despite his now lavish road digs, Crawford has a sense of humor about where he came from – the very premise of his new special. "Can a Brother Get Some Love" features some fantastically self-deprecating sketches, where Crawford walks around his hometown of Saint Louis saying hi to people while no one recognizes him, or cares to try.

"The guy at the rental car place said, 'I'm gonna hook you up,' and gave me a ratty old Crown Victoria," Crawford smiled. "I went to my old barbershop, he claimed I owed him money."

Every comedian knows that the proverbial road to success is long and wrought with set backs and disappointments. Lavell Crawford is an example of a comedian keeping his nose down, his head up, and his eyes focused on the big time.

And no one knows big better than Lavell Crawford.

Can a Brother Get Some Love? - Lavell Crawford