Saturday's show went smashingly! I did my best crowd work ever.
Ever!
The club was about half full. There was a large group of forty-something soccer Moms from Virginia, Florida and other such places. They were rowdy, laughing loudly and heckling, but not in a mean spirited way. They were just participating aggressively. I engaged them, but was careful to not let them pull me too far off course.
I had lots of fun, spontaneous moments. The mic was cutting out so the show producer came up to fix it. I asked her to tell me the secret to making it work. She said, "You have to be careful, the bottom is really temperamental."
Without missing a beat I said, "They always are."
The room erupted. Talk about getting it handed to you on a silver platter. If a gay comic can't get a laugh out of that set up, just quit.
I was struck by how universally the straight crowd got the bottom joke. Everyone laughed. For this I'm grateful to Will & Grace. As much as I can't stand that show, every gay comic owes them a big "thank you" for giving America a gay vocabulary. I'm amazed I can make a "bottom" joke and even suburban housewives get it. Times are a changin'.
Twenty years ago, gay comic pioneers like Bob Smith and Kate Clinton had to define each of their terms as they went. Their acts were essentially the "coming out process" with jokes added to the explanations. I am deeply grateful for the ground work they have laid. And for the fact that I don't have to explain being gay to the audience. Their years of work, and the explosion of gay television, have literally built the stage upon which I stand.
This weekend I was able to work bits into my act in ways that looked spontaneous. The women brought up Tom Cruise. So I did my bit about him, "We had a meeting and we've decided ... since he's lost his fucking mind we don't want him anymore. You can have him. Tom Cruise is straight." It's a mediocre joke with nothing particularly original about it. But it got a big laugh because it looked impromptu.
I also tried out this bit that's been kicking around my head which involves picking a cute guy on a date with girl and having some fun at his expense. This worked fantastically well. It also helped bring some critical balance to the crowd work. He was sitting on the other side of the room from the group of women. So it helped bring that side of the room into the show. I like this bit a lot. It's what I wanted to do when I got into this ... talk to straight people from a gay point of view and show we're not that different.
I've been experimenting with moving my autobiographical material to the middle or end of my set, instead of the beginning. My thought here is that the audience is more likely to care about my back story once I've established a connection. I've also wanted to develop a set without any of the Utah stuff at all.
I tried that at my Caroline's gig many months ago. I had some cute stories, but the energy was too low and they desperately needed editing. I've come a long way since then.
Saturday night, with the revised election bit, the crowd work, picking on the straight guy ... just as I was about to go into the Utah stuff I got the light. So I went into my current sign off bit instead, "Gay is Trendy."
Boom!
Without even planning it, I had done a set with crowd work and a set without the Utah stuff. All that worry and it finally happened, naturally, all by itself, and it wasn't in the least bit scary.
A lot of crowd work is just having a nice catalog of bits at the ready. Then when someone says something that hooks into one of them, you're golden. So I've realized this is something that will come more and more naturally with time. It's also an incentive to write ... to build the catalog.
For months I've been striving to take my own, natural, loud, boisterous, life of the party personality on stage with me. It's finally working. Delilah, owner of the Laugh Lounge, challenged me to figure out who I want to be on stage. And she made a suggestion that has become my mantra ...
Larger Than Life.
Watching the show Saturday night I also got a lesson in what not to do. One of the comics allowed that group of about 15 women, who comprised half the audience to completely hijack their set. As this comic went deeper and deeper with the group, getting their names, learning where they were from, and even bringing one of their cell phones on stage, I watched the rest of the audience. They grew bored from being ignored. They became restless, shifting in their seats, their attention wandered, their eyes glazed over. One couple even left.
These were subtle things that only lasted for a few minutes. It wasn't a major thing. But I noticed them and made mental note.
Malicious hecklers want to steal the agenda outright. But even good-natured hecklers want to derail the agenda and make it about themselves.
Crowd work is fun. And audiences, as much as they may protest "don't pick on me," secretly like it when the show becomes about them.
But I believe a comic has a responsibility to include everyone and to deliver "the show" for which everyone came and for which everyone paid. The quiet, respectful people are every bit as entitled to "the show" as the loud, drunken table.
I feel good about the balance I struck between these competing priorities on Saturday night. And I had a good time to boot.
The weekend's two shows, the one that was canceled and the one that wasn't, combined to give me a major attitude adjustment. I am reinvigorated. My enthusiasm is renewed. And I'm deeply grateful for the opportunities I have to learn my craft and have fun doing it.
