Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Bombing or are you?
Bombing or are you?
Anytime I get a gig that I feel is “So important I kill,” I’m going to bomb. It’s preordained.
I occasionally get a call from a particular prestigious speaker agent. Let me put it this way: they consider the fact that I will work for only $15,000 a gig – cheap. So, when the phone rings with a gig from this agent I get down on my knees and thank the powers that be. I make a commitment to hit the ball way out of the park. I'm going to be the funniest I've EVER been, I'm going to get a standing ovation, I'm going to have the agent so impressed that they're going to be booking me for -- hell -- 10 times a month! I'm already looking in yachting catalogues.
With this attitude, any comic is doomed to fail.
I worked my butt of before the gig. I called people who were attending to find out the “inside poop” on what was going on in their business so I could write customized material. I hired comedy coaches to go over my jokes. Their theme was “Super Heroes.” I wrote and honed Wonder Women jokes. “I’m just like Linda Carter, but without the first name and the waistline.” Weak, I know. I called on other comics to help punch up my “Super Hero” jokes. I even got my gym- trainer, who is a comic book expert, to give me advice.
The client emailed me the script, as it was an awards show. I worked out funny rifts; I even got permission to lisence some funny slides that I found on the Internet. I was going to be funny in a multi-media HUGE way.
It’s the night of the gig. The room is enormous and decorated with the “Super Hero” motif. The rehearsal goes great. It’s an award show and I practice announcing the award winners with the kind of enthusiasm of an academy award winner.
The show is about to start. The audience is at their tables eating their prawn appetizers. The hum of the room is deafening. I go over and over my super hero joke opening. Someone goes out and introduces me. I come out to some loud music. I do my first joke and realize that the audience has not stopped talking, nor even turned around to look at the stage. One minute in, I have already let go of all the new material I spent hours planning.
What to do? If I was in a nightclub, I could say, “Shut the fuck up!” Not at a corporate gig. I go to my killer stuff and still no laughs. I finally say, “For God Sakes, how long does it take to eat three prawns!” That got a small laugh. “Some gala affair – three gala shrimp.” I got another laugh, but everyone went back to talking. My first 10 minute set was over. I left the stage sweating profusely. And yet, I still had to come back after dinner for another set and the awards.
They ate dinner and it was time for me to go out again. Maybe this will be better. No such luck. I arrived onstage and still no one would stop talking. Now, I’m getting pissed. I got an idea. I went into the audience with the mike. I stood between two guys who were in conversation and asked them, “So, what are you guys talking about that is sooo important?” It was risky, but it worked. The entire audience went quiet. They were all afraid that I would pick them out. I had them for a few minutes.
My next comedy bit went great. But then I had to announce the awards. What the client didn’t tell me was that none of the winners were there and everyone already knew who won the awards.
The night finally ended with a thud and I went to the hotel bar to drink. After my second drink, I realized that wanting something to go well is the kiss of death. In comedy, the audience has to sense that we “Don’t give a shit.” Trying to be “good” is like trying to have good sex. Any time we are trying it’s going to be bad. Any time trying is involved, phoniness, failure and heavy drinking will follow.
What a shock it was that I got a very nice letter from the client about how good I was! I think they were just too drunk to remember that they didn't hear one thing I said. After all, I was an improvement from last year’s mariachi band.
Anytime I get a gig that I feel is “So important I kill,” I’m going to bomb. It’s preordained.
I occasionally get a call from a particular prestigious speaker agent. Let me put it this way: they consider the fact that I will work for only $15,000 a gig – cheap. So, when the phone rings with a gig from this agent I get down on my knees and thank the powers that be. I make a commitment to hit the ball way out of the park. I'm going to be the funniest I've EVER been, I'm going to get a standing ovation, I'm going to have the agent so impressed that they're going to be booking me for -- hell -- 10 times a month! I'm already looking in yachting catalogues.
With this attitude, any comic is doomed to fail.
I worked my butt of before the gig. I called people who were attending to find out the “inside poop” on what was going on in their business so I could write customized material. I hired comedy coaches to go over my jokes. Their theme was “Super Heroes.” I wrote and honed Wonder Women jokes. “I’m just like Linda Carter, but without the first name and the waistline.” Weak, I know. I called on other comics to help punch up my “Super Hero” jokes. I even got my gym- trainer, who is a comic book expert, to give me advice.
The client emailed me the script, as it was an awards show. I worked out funny rifts; I even got permission to lisence some funny slides that I found on the Internet. I was going to be funny in a multi-media HUGE way.
It’s the night of the gig. The room is enormous and decorated with the “Super Hero” motif. The rehearsal goes great. It’s an award show and I practice announcing the award winners with the kind of enthusiasm of an academy award winner.
The show is about to start. The audience is at their tables eating their prawn appetizers. The hum of the room is deafening. I go over and over my super hero joke opening. Someone goes out and introduces me. I come out to some loud music. I do my first joke and realize that the audience has not stopped talking, nor even turned around to look at the stage. One minute in, I have already let go of all the new material I spent hours planning.
What to do? If I was in a nightclub, I could say, “Shut the fuck up!” Not at a corporate gig. I go to my killer stuff and still no laughs. I finally say, “For God Sakes, how long does it take to eat three prawns!” That got a small laugh. “Some gala affair – three gala shrimp.” I got another laugh, but everyone went back to talking. My first 10 minute set was over. I left the stage sweating profusely. And yet, I still had to come back after dinner for another set and the awards.
They ate dinner and it was time for me to go out again. Maybe this will be better. No such luck. I arrived onstage and still no one would stop talking. Now, I’m getting pissed. I got an idea. I went into the audience with the mike. I stood between two guys who were in conversation and asked them, “So, what are you guys talking about that is sooo important?” It was risky, but it worked. The entire audience went quiet. They were all afraid that I would pick them out. I had them for a few minutes.
My next comedy bit went great. But then I had to announce the awards. What the client didn’t tell me was that none of the winners were there and everyone already knew who won the awards.
The night finally ended with a thud and I went to the hotel bar to drink. After my second drink, I realized that wanting something to go well is the kiss of death. In comedy, the audience has to sense that we “Don’t give a shit.” Trying to be “good” is like trying to have good sex. Any time we are trying it’s going to be bad. Any time trying is involved, phoniness, failure and heavy drinking will follow.
What a shock it was that I got a very nice letter from the client about how good I was! I think they were just too drunk to remember that they didn't hear one thing I said. After all, I was an improvement from last year’s mariachi band.
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Interesting! I've never thought about the fact that coming across as "giving a shit" might actually hurt a set. It seems like some masochistic need on the part of the audience, eh?
How freekin' logical!! You're absolutely right. I probably sweat more than most people when I'm presenting something or make an attempt saying something funny because I'm either afraid I'll do it wrong or I'm worried they won't get it or that I'll forget something. If I would relax more, and have a "don't give a shit attitude", I might even get mo/better laughs. I really thought your direct approach was great! Corporates don't really pay attention unless you're telling them how to make OR collect money...
This experience sure sounded familar. I've been in this position many times in my career and it never gets any easier. I wonder sometimes why corporations hire entertainment for things anyway. The worst part is after the show when people stop and say how they enjoyed you. You want to strangle them. Sometimes appreciating the absurdity of the situation you find yourself in is the best thing to take the edge off and have some fun with the audience. Judy is obviously a pro.
Judy, you peform comedy because you have a very disfunctional family life that you never came to terms with......keep up the good work hiding behind your worthlessness with comedy and keep on sexually abusing those young boys! They will only suffer for life!
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