The Saint

I was less than a week out from a very important comedy show, and I was jumpy. I'd been hitting open mikes in anticipation, trying to get the right mix for my set list, and working on my stage presence. I've been doing open mikes for some years now, but I still get a bad case of Tin Man Syndrome, and this will just not do for a show I produce in my own back yard.

As is my way, when faced with a nagging, persistent problem that requires swift and consistent effort, I lolly-gagged on Facebook. As it turns out, it was the best thing for me to do.

A noted comic in the region (who shall remain nameless) hit me up for a chat session. He is much more active and experienced in comedy than I am, so when he talks, I listen. It didn't take long for me to bring up my pre-game jitters and "oil can!" performance lament. "Your problem is a simple," he said. "You're not comfortable with your material." He went on describe what I had suspected in the back of my mind, but couldn't bring into focus: I was tentative and timid in performing, because I either hadn't memorized my material sufficiently, or didn't feel strong about it for other reasons.

I set about writing up a set list, dumping the weaker bits, and trimming and strengthening the rest. With that done, I drilled on the remainder, wearing grooves in my brain so that one word led to the next, and to the next, and so on. I've done this before, but for some reason had allowed complacency to rob me of what little discipline I'd had.

I've never met the guy, save through online contact, but he has yet to refuse an opportunity to lend a hand. Usually just a nudge in the right direction, helping me to stay on track, but sometimes more, taking an extended period of time to share his experiences and viewpoint. He's been so open and positive, I've taken to calling him "The Saint," for his nearly inexhaustible patience and willingness to offer ideas and expertise. Early on in my comedy works in the area, I was put off by some experiences I'd had: a few folks were stingy with information, reluctant to help or even backed out on gentleman's agreements. Some of this is to be expected of course; you can't expect people to fall all over themselves to embrace someone they've never met. Still, the circumstances were off-putting, and I had started to become disillusioned with the stories I'd heard about comedians collaborating on projects, tuning up each other's material and helping each other find work.

Luckily, I found that as I became less "the new guy," several active performers in the area began to share their opinions and insights. As I make small efforts here and there to contribute in my own small ways, a kind of karma has kicked into gear - seriously disturbing my cynical view of humans and the universe. Troubling, that.

I've thanked several in my circle for their contributions, The Saint most often and most earnestly. As time wears on, I can feel a positive sort of debit system building, keeping me on the lookout for the opportunity to do a good turn, especially (but not only) to those who've shown me some grace.

After a particularly time-consuming bull session, I asked The Saint what I could do to repay him for his time and selfessness. He replied with a continued invitation to hit him up for advice in the future and to: "Just pay it forward, man." Is it any wonder I call him "The Saint?"

Outta the park!

Not much time to write tonight, but I had to jot this down:

I produced and emceed a great show tonight, with Patrick Jaye doing a great job featuring, and Del Van Dyke headlining like a master. I could brag on either of them 'til the cows come home, but I'm too tired to do them justice, so I'll just toot my own horn:

My set was well-received. I brought some good energy, had my material down, concentrated on being myself (like Mike "The Saint" Betancourt told me), and drove that shit home like nobody's business. I admit I'm proud that I acquitted myself well in front of some seasoned pro's.

Crowd's happy, comics are happy, venue is happy. Rock on, let's do this again soon!

Good night!

Comedy Night in Lathrop, 12/19/09

I was fortunate to perform at a show last week in Lathrop, a show put on by the young entrepreneur Evin Smith. I was in good company, performing with Isaac Ames, Roberto Arreola, Nate Lewis, Brian Uecker, Josh Hollinger and my brother-in-geography, Matthew Zeller.

I had a great set, got a lot of laughs and gained some of that valuable stage time. I had a lot of highs, but enough lows to help weed out the weaker material from a few bits, which was great. This must be what I'm meant to do; I even enjoy the rough parts!

What was great about this show was that everybody brought something to the party: for examples:

• Isaac had some fearless crowd work, busting on a table of loud talkers
• Roberto brought clever new material
• Josh exploded on stage with a Jonas Bros. bit that I didn't see coming
• Matthew had thoughtful, new material written just for the show and
  
• Nate closed the show, headlining for the first time!

The show offered a "best street joke" slot, but the audience was too shy to take advantage of it, leaving a few spirited comics to take whacks at the pinata.

I'm looking forward to doing it again.

La Contenta Show 11/21 - lighting lesson learned

One thing I learned producing the show last Saturday: lighting is important! I already knew that, but the lesson was certainly accentuated.

I'd arranged to set up lighting equipment package that was advertised by satisfied, independent customer reviews as being ample for lighting a "small or medium-sized stage." Confident in my purchase, I ordered the package.

Pressed for time, we set it up the night before, and we were concerned about the tripod stand it used to elevate the actual lights, for at least three reasons:

• The stand partially obstructed the view
• It presented a potential tripping hazard
• It displaced at least a few audience seats

We made an executive decision to distribute the lights on the floor, at the foot of the stage. This put a lot of light on the performers, but from a low angle. The downside was that it cast light in an eery, ghost-stories-by-the-campfire angle. The upside was that the view was unobstructed, tripping hazards were minimized and no seats were disturbed.

I'd quietly urged my fellow performers to stand as far back from the front of the stage in an effort to let as much light to our faces as possible. Even though it was my idea, I admit that I found it difficult to do so and still feel comfortable with delivery.

One final problem was that the channel-based lighting controller I purchased only lights one light at a time, out of a bank of four. This was a surprise, especially since customer reviews raved about how this package was plenty for small stages.

Retrospect, unanswered questions:

• Is there a better way to vet or research customer reviews?
• I wonder is we could have dedicated a small table to the bank of lights. This would have displaced a few customers, but the lighting quality may have been greatly improved by raising it a few feet from the floor. Nobody wanted to sit front and center, anyway!

Lessons learned:

• do dry runs farther in advance (although it was almost impossible in this case for reasons unimportant to this examination)
• mount lighting on a ceiling or floor mounting that allows for minimum intrusion into usable spaces
• consult a lighting professional

Live and learn, and we'll improve with every effort!

My mind is blown

I am hurtling through new territory and recklessly kicking through areas marked off with yellow-and-black tape, but instead of "WET PAINT" they're marked: "COMFORT ZONE." Flashes of light, tunnels psychedelic kaleidoscope colors whip by and I hum with new energy as I drool just a little with either anticipation or rapt sensory overload or both, I can't really tell.

More coming soon. Watch this space.

HMC Open Mike night, 7/30/09

Open Mike Night last week not a total success, but was a fine learning experience.

Upon entrance to the venue, I found the place packed with loud, snockered golfers, carousing loudly and working their way up Highway 4 towards other bars and their next DUI. I bravely and dumbly set up my equipment and started my set, with darn little notice from the assemblage. After a few muddled jokes, I tardily realized that it wasn't a good night for it, and took a seat at the bar to wait it out.

If there's one thing a student of comedy is never short on, it's advice from people who don't know anything about comedy. For example, I've recently had the un-brilliant and well-meaning counsel that I should get up and perform some of Bill Cosby's material or George Carlin's, just to get people going. Granted, this was on a night that my own original material wasn't slaying the crowd, but it wasn't so bad as to resort comedic plagarism. Non-comics don't understand that this course of action is tantamount to spitting on your mother. I tried to explain that it's far better to fail with your own material than succeed with stolen material, but I guess it amounts to a cultural thing. It's like the Matrix - no one can be "told" what the Matrix is; you have to experience the relevant importance of the issue at hand before understanding it.

With that said, I did get one nugget of useful tutelage from an 80 year-old Russian barfly who otherwise tells the same stories like a reel-to-reel tape stuck on "loop." She said: "Joov got to grab dem! Dey ain't gonna listen unless joo grab dem!" And she was right.

My comedy style is dry, clever and conversational, but is not multi-dimensional, loud or intrusive. I've got very few short, punchy bits, and absolutely no setup/punch, street-joke-type material. That's just my style. However, it occurred to me even before the mummy's advice if I were to attempt to scale the attention summit that this crowd presented, some assertive, brief and ribald zingers would have been the tools to pull from the toolbox. It's a stretch for me, but hey, I can stretch. Food for thought.

Not having those particular tools at hand, I chilled out until the crowd dissipated. It was unfortunate, but I considered the venue's view: one of the larger purposes of an Open Mike Night is to gets some butts into the venue's seats on a slow night. If the place is already rolling with a crowd that isn't into it, why force amateur night on them and chase paying customers out of the joint?

The evening eventually rolled on with my comedic material and a few musicians who sat and drank in the bar for most of the two hours allotted for Open Mike Night, only to get their instruments out and start playing five minutes from the end of my available time. I let them run long through a few songs, but I had to cut it short and pack up, as I had miles to go before I slept. They grumbled disappointedly, but unlike them I couldn't indulge myself in a short drive home, loaded to the gills; Captain Killjoy had an hour drive, an equipment unload and work the next day to look forward to, so he packed up his shit and left. So be it.