Betsy Salkind came to Boston to get a masters in management from M.I.T. She left having discovered she was an extraordinarily talented comedian and didn’t want to be a bank examiner. She wrote one-person shows, performed improv with The Guilty Children, did stand-up – everything you could do to be funny.
When she left, she was no less diverse, writing for the sitcom Roseanne, acting, and creating her own versatile style of stand-up that spans the spectrum from politics to an impression of a squirrel eating a cracker.
She’s added activist to her resume, speaking out on behalf of child abuse survivors (Sacramento’s SB 33 bill) and against adult ads on Craigslist. For that last one, she led a protest outside of Craigslist’s San Francisco headquarters as Craig NewPimp. Oh, and let’s not forget author of Sunday School Bible Classics (see the video below). And ventriloquist dummy for puppetmaster Dot Jones (currently the new football coach on Glee)... you could almost do this all day.
She has been limited for a while by a hypothyroid condition cause by auto-immune problems (even that hasn’t escaped her wit – see the Betsy’s Unlicensed Medical Practice link on her site), but she’ll be back at M.I.T. on October 22 for a show at her alma mater.
I spoke with her by phone in late September.
Does the condition affect how you’re able to tour?
You know, I can still get it together for a show. It’ll be interesting now, because I’m traveling a lot of September and October. Which is new. Because for years I really tried to minimize how much I traveled because it just sucked the life out of me. So it’ll be interesting to see how it goes now that I’m feeling better.
It’s also allowed you to practice medicine on your Web site.
Oh, you’ve seen that? Unlicensed Medical Practice? I’m constantly continuing it.
Taking questions from fans and things?
I probably should.
And just give completely wrong advice.
Yeah. Well, yeah. I always say, I’m not a doctor, but…
We spoke about this for the Globe in 2005. You do have that sort of mix, you can do political humor, you can do silly jokes, you can do physical humor. And they’re not necessarily talents that many people can do, or that normally fit together well in one person.
That’s true. I don’t feel anyone would steal my whole act, for sure. That would never happen. And when I record stuff for TV, they’ll always chop it up and will take like one… they’ll always leave out one of those elements. Which is always kind of upsetting for me. But you’re right, it is kind of a weird combo.
You’re someone who, you couldn’t get an idea of who you are in that five-minute late night TV set. Is that problematic for you?
If I did a few more late night five minute spots, then yeah. I did tape a new special that’s currently being edited. I taped a half-hour but they’re only going to use 15, with three other comics.
You would b a particularly bad fit for one of those package tours.
I don’t know. I don’t think that’s true. There are other comics, Julie Goldman, for example, where we sort of share a world view but couldn’t have more different stage personas and ways of dealing with the material. And it just works great together. And I have that experience a lot. Because my style is so different from everyone else that it just kind of works as a contrast, I think.
There is someone here doing a showcase for female comics because he feels they still don’t get the same sorts of opportunities. It’s a standard sort of question, but where do you think that stands, as far as women in comedy?
I think it’s like women in Congress and women on the Supreme Court. Although I think it might be worse than women on the Supreme Court, because that’s up to a third now, I think. I think it’s pretty clear from what’s on television. There’s a lot of really funny women out working in the clubs now that no one’s ever heard of. So there are certainly talented women comics out there.
The other night I did this show, and I hadn’t seen at least half of the comics on it. And there’s always some gem I didn’t know about. So yeah. [puts on a mocking indignant tone] It’s a man’s world. There’s still that idea that if you have more than one woman, somehow it’s ladies’ night.
What I like about shows that have many women on them is, [people] get over the fact that it’s a woman comic, and they see that every woman is different, and they kind of get over the gender stuff right away and just listen to the material and enjoy that. But you still see in the clubs, they don’t call it “men’s night,” but it’s all men, or maybe there’ll be one woman. And if there’s more than one woman, it’s “ladies’ night.”
Do you have any clubs or a sort of circuit that you frequent?
I don’t. Because I’ve been really focused on writing this year. I wanted to finish some projects – I’ve been writing this play – I kind of stopped pursuing the work and just kind of took every gig that came my way. Which turned out to be pretty good. I’m still working regularly. I’ll work anywhere. The M.I.T. gig will be weird because it’s actually in a lecture hall. A huge lecture hall. I think there’s over 300 seats in it.
Many years ago, my very first one-woman show was done in a lecture hall at M.I.T. It was called “Master of Science,” and it was just about all the ways that science is really fucked up. My opening act was an actual rocket scientist. Ed Crawley.
Did he do comedy?
Well, the gig that we arranged was that he would start doing one of his rocket science lectures and then I would come in and kind of interrupt and say, “What the fuck? I have this room,” and then argue about whose room it was.
Will he be making his return?
No, but I may have a special guest comedian.
That begs the obvious next question, which you probably can’t answer.
Yes. One of my favorite comics from when I lived there.
How much time do you spend on political causes like SB 33 and the CraigsList adult listings?
From 2003-2006 I lived about 90 minutes from Sacramento, so during that time I did comedy at night and spent my days organizing and lobbying the CA legislature. The Craigslist thing was just a few days this summer, but I can always find time to squeeze in whatever I want to get involved in. And I love creating comedy about political stuff. I do a lot of fundraisers and benefits so sometimes the work is all the same. One of my comedy influences was Dick Gregory, whose book Nigger was really important to me. It was about his transformation from comedian to civil rights activist and so it always felt perfectly right for me to be both a comic and activist.
Salkind as Craig NewPimp (in the tie)
Could you see yourself going into politics as a profession?
Only as an advocate. If I ever tried to run for office there'd be a lot of video of jokes I'm sure some people would find offensive and inappropriate (which might be good for my comedy career. Hmm.) I would like to be a children's civil rights organizer.
Do you find people don't realize how close to the real story your Sunday School Bible Classics are?
The ones who realize it the most are the seminary students and ministers/rabbis. The ones who heard the stories as children at church or temple or religious school find some parts surprising and might think I made them up. The ones who had no religious education at all (I've only encountered two so far) find the stories just plain horrifying and not at all funny. I guess the rest of us were so indoctrinated, that although most of us thought something was a little off about the stories, we accept them as part of the culture and now enjoy the new perspective on them.
I once debated a (religious) biblical scholar on a radio show who is not used to being confronted with some of the more obscure stories ("Jephthah's daughter," which is kind of like Abraham and Isaac, except God doesn't intervene and he actually kills his daughter; and "The Priest and the Concubine," which starts with a gang-rape and ends with genocide). His only argument was "you have to look at those stories in a larger context." I'm still trying to figure out what context is large enough to justify those things.
What else do you have in store for them?
I wrote and illustrated eight stories. Only two have been published. Three more have been adapted to video. The whole collection is being prepared for epublishing (for the iPad - which is color and hi- res). I was hoping it would be ready for the holiday season, but I don't know the epub date. The original book, however, makes a perfect
Xmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa gift. It's available on Amazon and on my site, and if you order through my site you can have it signed to whoever you like.
I'm also working on a new book which I'm very excited about, and my play Discontinuation Syndrome is in development. The play is a comedy about depression in which Depression (a character) and Eli Lilly (the maker of Prozac) battle for custody of a depressed woman in the court of Judge Mental.
Have you watched your old comedy partner Dot Jones on Glee? What do you think of the character?
I do watch Glee and am so excited for Dot. The character is a lot like her: strong, athletic, scary when she wants to be, but really a big softie with a huge heart. Doing Dot Jones & Peanut with her is among the most fun I've ever had on stage. I just found a tape of a show we did in 1997 with Deb Doetzer (also a Bostonian) that includes a spoof of Mamet called "GlenGary GlenScrabble." The video quality is terrible, but it's hilarious and I plan to post it online.
Jon Fisch plays Club Bohemia at the Cantab tonight.
Newton native Jon Fisch doesn’t have any comic gimmicks. No props, no politics, no nerdy stereotypes. What you get with Fisch is just flat-out funny. Great writing, an easy sense of himself onstage, and the ability to walk into any comedy club and make people laugh, sometimes til it hurts. It’s what got him into the Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal, on Comedy Central, and Last Comic Standing.
Tonight he’s back in Boston, playing Club Bohemia (the downstairs room at the Cantab), for a show sponsored by Mass Hilarity, a production company created by local comics Elvis Collins and Angie Frissore looking to start its own Boston comedy blog by the end of the year.
I spoke with him by e-mail this week.
How did you hook up with Mass Hilarity to play the Cantab?
I did a benefit show a couple summers ago for Angela at the Somerville theater. A comic friend, Steve Burr booked the comics for Angela. He’s from Rochester, ny but I still like him cause he’s a sox fan. It was a really fun show that Steve hosted with Moody McCarthy, Keith Alberstadt, April Macie, Tom Simmons, James Johan and Christina Pazsitz.. Angela is a great person, a big comedy fan and we've remained in touch.
Did you ever play one of the comedy shows that popped up there from time to time when you were in Boston?
I did one that I can remember. Steve Calechman may have been behind that cantab show. I think Sam Walters was there that night and Mike Birbiglia claims that’s the night I met him and his brother Joe.
Who were the people you learned most from while you were here?
I learned a lot from watching and talking with Robbie Printz, Paul Nardizzi, Kevin Knox, Jim Colliton, Tony Moschetto, Tim McIntire, Don Gavin, and Tony V.
Where was the first place you tried stand-up?
Rick Jenkins comedy workshop graduation at the Comedy Studio.
You label yourself a “prolific monologist” on your Web site. You have a point of view, but not an easy gimmick or label, like a blue collar comic or a political comic. Do you think that means you have to work harder to make a more immediate impression?
I remember doing a set on a showcase show, I must have been the sixth or seventh comic on the show and it was one of those nights where we were all having great sets. After my first joke I heard a woman say something to her friend like “ooh this guy is different.” I let my bits and my act speak for itself and I try to be original by being personal and hope that sets me apart and make an impression. But then again, I am not a household name so maybe I should get a hook, any ideas?
It seems to me that a lot of comics have a kind of home club in NY. Not sure why that is, if you need a place to plant your flag so people will notice you, rather than getting lost playing a ton of clubs, or if it’s just a matter of a comic finding a comfortable place to play.
It’s nice to have a place that loves you. Different clubs over the years have given me love at different times. I'm fortunate to perform at the clubs that I think I fit well at. I think it's more about that, finding that place where you are comfortable.
When do the Tank seasons begin and end? Pretty organized to have actual seasons.
It’s probably less of being organized and more just in need of breaks. It can take up a lot of time so ending a season is just my excuse for taking some time off. We have started recording for season 3 with new equipment and should start posting them for our listeners starting next Tuesday.
What do you get from interviewing other comedians?
I love comedy. I love doing stand up and I love talking about stand up. I think most comics; most real comics have an interesting story to tell and an interesting perspective on stand up. I just try to provide a little time capsule for their career. There are interviews with the famous comics out there, but we all have our own insight to share. I’m a fan of stand up and this podcast is for other fans of stand up and for the fans of the particular guest.
What do I get? I guess I get to talk to other comics and I hope to draw out that nugget of wisdom that can sum up a certain part of stand up.
Who’s coming up this season?
Things happen and schedules change but looks like we’ll have Karen Bergreen, Rob Cantrell, Jim David, Gregg Rogell, Joe Derosa, Lynn Koplitz, Al Ducharme, Jesse Joyce, Allan Havey, Nick Dipaolo and Dwayne Perkins
Lamont Price is not a quiet comic. He doesn’t scream or yell, but you definitely know when he’s onstage, riffing on Boston’s racial make-up of where Ben Franklin got the idea to fly a kite in a lightning storm. He commands a stage, and the audience for that matter.
But Price has quietly become one of Boston’s best comics. There was no one breakthrough performance, no media throng. He did it the way it’s supposed to be done, working his ass off in the clubs. This year, the Just For Laughs people noticed, and brought Price to Montreal to represent Boston comedy.
Tonight, he’ll present one of his regular Rude Boyz shows at the Sweetwater Café in the Theatre District, with DJ/ Co Host, Matt Phipps Shaun Bedgood, Kristin Seltman, Ted Pettingel, Chris Coxen, Sam Jackson, Daniela Capolino, Jono Zalay, Bethany Van Delft, Josh Gondleman, and Dan Crohn.
I caught up with him by e-mail to talk about the show and Just For Laughs.
What were your thoughts when you found out you were going to Just for Laughs?
I was ecstatic about hearing I was invited to Just for Laughs as its the premier comedy fest in the world and not everyone is allowed to go. So, it was an extreme honor.
What shows were you on?
I, along with Bethany Van Delft and Joe List were representing Boston in Jeff Singers brand new "Comedy Leagues" contest, where we squared off against, Toronto, Montreal and NYC (getting edged out by NYC questionably in the Final)
How did it compare to your expectations?
The show I was on went great. The festival itself was absolutely surreal to me. I'm in a hotel with over 100 of the funniest comedians in the world. And I'm signing autographs and everything. When Paul Provenza walks up to you and says you’re hilarious, you've won. Period.
Are you playing much outside of Boston these days?
Within the past year I've been getting out of Boston to perform a ton. Mostly East Coast stuff, but, as with The Aspen Rooftop Comedy Festival, I've been venturing into the Midwest more. It's good to see how other people live as a way to help your comedic creativity.
These past few years, you've gotten really strong. Was there a turning point where you felt you really hit your stride?
I honestly think I’ve been really strong for much longer than that, it's just nobody seemed to care. Now that I've decided to do contests and more fests, people are like "Wow, you're taking it to that next level". My attitude is I've always been really good, just not as visible as maybe I should be
Where does "Rude Boyz" come from?
Rude Boyz is something I thought up years ago as a click for myself and some of my closest friends in comedy. Kind of an outspoken group of comics (but if you're a comic, I guess you are outspoken already, LOL).
How do you choose the comics on the bill?
This show started out as a benefit for the late great Kevin Knox and I wanted to have comics on the show that I was friends with, It always makes for a better show when you get along with everybody on the show. It creates a fun, carefree atmosphere. So I normally book people I have a cool relationship with. Nothing too difficult. I just want a fun vibe.
Anyone new on the roster this week you're looking forward to seeing?
The only comics on this roster that havn't done the show yet are Kristin Seltman, who's fairly new on the scene, but she's gotta very good sense of humor and I cant wait to see how she does and Jono Zalay, who's a fast rising star on the Boston scene and I've tried to have him before, but there was always a schedule mix-up of some sort.
As far as some of the returning comics, I'm looking forward to seeing Josh Gondelman, as we were in Aspen together and Bethany Van Delft, who I was in Montreal with. Sam Jackson, a NYC comic is another I'm looking forward to, as I haven't seen him in awhile. Truth is, the lineup is bananas. I can't wait to see everyone. Ha ha, good save by me ! Way to try to trap me with a question, Zaino! LMAO
For those who haven't been, what kind of a comedy room is the Sweetwater?
Sweetwater is a fun room to play in. They are very accommodating of myself and fellow comics. It's an intimate setting, so, as a performer, you're right on top of the crowd. That usually helps you connect with the audience better, adding to the enjoyment of the show.
When do you think the next Sweetwater gig will be?
Ahhhhhhhhh, the NEXT Sweetwater show? I honestly have zero idea. This is the first one I've done since December. Do I continue it (its a ton of work), do I hand to someone else (DJ Reason, Daniella Capolino? Who knows, but for now, I'm concentrating on having a sick August show. Ultimately, the show is fun enough that even if I can't do it as regularly as I did in the past, I know eventually I will bring it back to Sweetwater, I'm just not sure when.
Former Boston comic Myq Kaplan will appear again tonight on NBC's Last Comic Standing, one of seven finalists. Kaplan is a smart writer, and he generally writes short material, giving him an edge in a competition where your success depends on two or two-and-a-half minute sets. And he's been on the rise for the past few years, appearing on The Tonight Show and Comedy Central, and opening for two sold out shows for Bo Burnham's Comedy Central special taping earlier this year.
I caught up with him by phone last Tuesday, the afternoon after last week's Last Comic Standing aired. [Ed note -- more of this interview will appear later today once I have transcribed it].
So what’s your schedule like these days with Last Comic Standing?
They fly us out the day before. The day before, they have a rehearsal, a walk through and stuff. They fly us out on Saturday, and we do that stuff on Sunday, then do the show on Monday, and then Tuesday’s the travel day back.
Are you still getting to play out elsewhere during the week?
Mostly I go back home to New York and do shows there, in the meantime.
I’d assume some of your time now is spent trying to drum up votes.
Yeah. Some of it is. I mean, I have fan pages and mailing lists and my family has friends that they call. Everybody, friends and family, is on board. Every week that there is a vote I try to make sure that everybody who might want to help knows.
Did you have a plan going in for that kind of thing?
I didn’t have a specific plan, other than doing what I’ve been doing, which is amassing as many fans in real life and on the computer as possible. And telling them about it. And then obviously trying to get as much of me out there so that people who don’t know me might find me.
How much of your set do we see in the final project? I’ve heard a lot of comics complain in the past that they’ve been heavily edited – you put five minutes down to two minutes, sometimes things don’t come out.
I’ve been happy with the way I have been portrayed. Some of the sets are edited, but in the finals, but starting with the ten finalists, everything is done live to tape. We tape an hour show, and the set that you see, like the set that you saw last night was the set that I did.
It was sort of unusual, I didn’t think of you as having to change much of anything for TV, but obviously you had to reword the gay joke a bit.
I had to do that for The Tonight Show, so I’ve had that as a TV clean version of the joke that I’m happy with.
You’re very particular about the wording of your jokes. Do you think it takes away from the impact to do that kind of joke on TV?
I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t happy with it. There are some jokes that I have that I could change to be TV friendly that I think would lessen the impact. This is one that I don’t feel does that. In preparing for The Tonight Show I went around to a lot of – I practiced the set a lot with that wording just to make sure that it did feel right to me and got the response that I wanted it to. It passed that test to me. Audiences have been responding to it. There’s no way to test an audience with both lines, obviously, because once they’ve heard one, the other won’t have the same hold. But as far as I can tell, they both work, and I’m fine with them being interchangeable.
I feel like you’re particularly well suited for a competition like this. You have a lot of material you can parse and it’s shorter, and you can put together a two-minute set or a two-and-a-half-minute set more easily than some comics.
I feel similarly, not thinking about anybody else or comparing myself to anybody, but certainly I’ve historically written – I have a lot of shorter jokes. I’m not a lengthy storyteller in general. I enjoy storytelling. I have some jokes that are longer. Should I do three jokes that are one minute each, four jokes that are less than a minute each, or some combination thereof? I feel I do, because of that, have more options than some others.
Had you run across any of the final seven before the show? Are you familiar with any of these people?
Let me think. I did now know Filipe at all. I did know Rachel Feinstein. She lives in New York and we’ve done many shows together and are friendly. I would say she is the one I know the best. I didn’t know Jonathan Thymius. I didn’t know Mike D, even though he’s from New York. I knew who he was, I’d seen some of his stuff on TV and online. But we only met at Last Comic Standing. Tommy, same thing. I was familiar with his work but we didn’t meet until the auditions. Then there’s me, I knew me pretty well. And Roy Wood, Jr. I did know. We both did the Norfolk Great American Comedy Festival together two or three years ago.
It’s strange sometimes watching the show when you know the host or the judges know the comic that they’re commenting on. You know that they’re all sort of in the New York scene together or another scene, and you can tell that the judges know them well, and to have to give some feedback on someone they might have played a gig with before. It must be awkward.
The whole prospect is awkward in general. I think the judges do the best that they can in not making anybody feel bad, being as fair as possible, and elevating the best comedy, as far as they know and can tell. But the circumstances, they’re not natural for comedy. Comedy in its most obvious genuine form isn’t a competition. That makes for an awkward dynamic to begin with. But I think the judges have done as good a job as possible of being as honest and kind and complimentary and constructive and funny, for the most part, when possible.
But certainly somebody like Laurie Kilmartin, she came up I think with Greg Giraldo. So seeing that sort of dynamic, where they’re essentially peers, but due to these circumstances, they are not peers, in this context, that is odd.
There are a lot of comics who don’t like the show, and some portion of those comics are now posting links to vote for you after the show. That’s a strange mix, as well.
Oh sure. There are a lot of things that people have historically disliked about the show. I think the largest, most visible, was in the second season when Dan Naturman was clearly, it seems, chosen by the judges but rejected by the producers or somebody else. Which, to the show’s credit, they did air all of that. They didn’t hide it, they didn’t keep it secret. But it was what it was.
It’s not just a pure show based on merit. Obviously not every comedian is going after it. The best comedians in the country or the world, your Chris Rocks, your Seinfelds, your Brian Regans, are obviously not competing because it’s not necessary for them. So some people are like, “This isn’t finding the best comedians.” Then they’ll say it’s finding the best unknown comedians. The some people will say, “These people aren’t unknown, they have TV credits.”
An American Idol singer can never have sung in public and be great. But a person who has never performed comedy in public is, I think, much less likely to be great. So that’s more of a concern for non-comedian. The comedians understand that the people who stand in line have less of a chance of getting in. Which I think is an issue – some people are not clued in to that.
It’s very hard to explain to somebody who hasn’t followed comedy or done comedy how much of the job is just doing it. They’ll often compare it to music, like you said with American Idol. They think you can just emerge from a room after writing all of this stuff and just be consistently funny from day one.
Oh, yeah. I didn’t know anything about comedy before I did it. I watched some of it when it was on whenever I started out. Especially when the show does seem to be made in the vein of an American Idol style contest. So people outside of comedy will be like, oh, this is finding the unknown comic they way Idol does singers, finding a nobody and turning them into a somebody. But as far as comedians, I think in the past, because of that Dan Naturman situation, people grew suspicious that the show might be fixed or cast in a way that seemed unfair.
But I think they’re pretty up front, at least at the end of the shows, they do put a disclaimer across the screen that says choices are made by the judges in conjunction with NBC and the producers of the show.
It feels to me that they have the people they really want to be on there, and at these auditions, you really would have to blow them out of the water to dislodge what they wanted from the beginning.
I honestly don’t know the process that they go through. If I was chosen beforehand, I wasn’t informed about it. Back at the initial auditions, there was no guarantee. I could have done different jokes that might not have hit them as strongly. There were plenty of people they told they were funny but they didn’t think were right for the show, or right for the show now. They chose, eventually, a couple of hundred people to be in the nighttime showcases. And that was pretty much merit-based. If you did really well – obviously there’s some arbitrary nature to it, why does one good person get a spot and another person does not.
But I don’t think they said, let’s get these two hundred people, and watch them and from them, let’s get these forty people. I think you had to do well in the showcase to move on. It’s possible they might have been rooting for some people to do well. But I think something can always go wrong. The crowd could not react the way they want, they could have a lousy spot on the show. Anything could happen.
What the Fuck? That’s the name of Marc Maron’s podcast. If you know Maron’s comedy, you know how perfectly that fits him. It captures his penchant for questioning things. For bluntness. For a hint (or more) of anger.
Maron is known for his edge, but these days, onstage and on the Web, you get a lot more than that from him. Onstage, you get a guy feeling his mortality, even when he’s talking about something as seemingly trivial as setting up his cell phone.
On WTF, as the podcast is known, you get a fascinating conversationalist, someone who brings out the best in a variety of comics – Patton Oswalt, Carlos Mencia, Robin Williams, Dane Cook, Jeffrey Ross. There are also personal stories – Maron kicking cigarettes or overcoming his fear of singing and playing guitar in public.
Friday night, he comes back to Boston, the town he credits with teaching him how to do comedy, to play The Gas at Great Scott, hosted by Anderson Comedy. It’s a small, intimate venue, a great place to see someone like Maron, and likely to sell out.
I spoke with Maron by phone last week.
How’s your nicotine withdrawal?
It feels better. The nicotine withdrawal is okay. I think I’ve gone through the physical part. But my brain still wants it, wants it badly sometimes. But it doesn’t seem to be destroying my life as much. The craving does not seem to be dictating my mood as precisely as it was near the beginning.
I heard that on the podcast…
Yeah. It’s definitely a battle. I definitely need something. I don’t know what it’s going to be. I assume it’s not going to be Jesus. It’s probably going to be ice cream.
When you include something like that in the podcast, are you also writing something about that for the stage or do you manage to keep the two separate?
No, certain things have been bleeding over. Not so much that thing, because I’ve talked about addiction a lot over the years, in one form or another. So that stuff’s sort of in place. But more of the experiential stuff, some of the stories. They seem to be making it onto the stage in a slightly different form that would play for a comedy audience as opposed to a conversation I’m having with an individual in my garage. Or an individual on a Stairmaster, in a car, on a plane. Whoever I’m talking directly to on the podcast. So yeah, it’s bleeding over because I have to generate so much stuff that I started to figure, why not? This stuff is funny. I’m starting to use it. It’s starting to cross over a bit.
When you first thought of doing the podcast – what has gotten most of the attention are some of the interviews you’ve done – did you want it to be more of an interview-based podcast, or a variety show?
It was always the way it was, from the beginning. We didn’t know what we were going to do. Brendan and I just knew we wanted to do something. After we got fired from Air America, we still had our security card, so we’d go in after hours and hijack the studio, and we always had guests and conversations and stuff. It’s sort of honored its original form, for the most part.
I like talking to people, and that’s sort of new for me. I don’t seem to be as cynical as I used to be. It’s been very rewarding to talk to my peers and to talk to comics and keep it sort of variety based, and have enough of my voice at the beginning, and maybe do some mindfuck stuff with characters. But it was always intended to be a conversation show. I imagine I will end up doing some on my own, as time goes on. Obviously we do the road versions, too, which are slightly different. But I’m not really beholden to any particular format, other than my own mind.
Is it difficult as someone who has spent most of their life as one person talking to an audience, going from that to a conversation?
No. Not for me. I’ve kind of shifted a little bit in terms of how I engage with stuff. I feel like I’m getting back to where I was when I was a kid or in high school. I like listening to funny people. I like good stories. I like having conversations with people. I’ve always liked that. It’s really just engaging it and doing it publically.
What do you attribute the lessening of the cynicism to?
Age and the realization that life is short, and what am I really angry at, and what are my real frustrations? These are just choices. Cynicism and anger are just easier than liking things or experiencing joy. It does seem a little riskier, and they don’t come as easy to me.
I’ve heard Patton Oswalt mention that as well. Going into a comedy club and seeing twelve people just sort of scream about their problems and self-righteous political material seems sort of easy, whereas it’s really hard to make something funny that you really love. And that’s where something sort of more magical happens.
I guess. I don’t know what comedy club he’s going to, to see that many people talking about politics or screaming about anything. But I understand what he’s saying.
I was paraphrasing very, very roughly, I don’t want to put words in his mouth.
You know, what I think Patton may be talking about… My frustrations about life, what becomes more interesting is how you overcome them as opposed to just presenting what you’re mad about. And self-righteousness after a certain age is very annoying. To hear self-righteousness, certainly strident self-righteousness, it just becomes a posture. It’s fraudulent.
So I think once you reach a certain age, presenting a problem or a frustration or anger, and then talking about how you’re moving through it or your experiences, is more helpful and more funny, and actually makes people feel better than just bonding in the anger itself.
I was trying to figure out, at one point, why I’m a fan of people like Patton Oswalt and like yourself, why I favor certain comedians over others. And you would look at a comedian who would do seemingly the same topic, and why one makes me want to leave the room or stab my eyes. And it seems to me it’s a matter of what the stakes are for that person.
Well, I think, how much of their humanity is being made available. That is the emotional risk of it. It’s how much of that person, how much of their heart is involved. It’s like watching Pryor. Everyone talks about Pryor, but the reason Pryor was so exceptional was you felt a real visceral sense that he was taking emotional risks. That his vulnerability was genuine. And I think that’s at the heart of great comedy.
But then you wonder if someone who has never took the same risks in their personal life can ever achieve that sort of greatness onstage, as well.
I’m sure they can. It’s just a different kind of performer. There are plenty of clowns. There are plenty of people who are spectacles. I think people love spectacle. So I think success is not judged or decided by how much people put their vulnerability or sensitivity into something. People like train wrecks. People like things blowing up. It’s just a school of thought. It’s a different way of engaging the craft. It’s just a preference, really. And I think in comedy, people who are too sensitive and too vulnerable are more likely to crash and burn than become great successes.
Do you think you’re more open to different comedians and types of comedy for doing this podcast and talking to such a wide variety of people?
I was always pretty open. I never drew lines between alternative and mainstream. And there’s the hack line, which is, it is what it is, but my anger about that type of stuff is not what it used to be. I usually resented people who did something similar to me more than I resented people that were hacks. You know what I mean? There was a jealousy involved. But as time goes on, I’ve become… I don’t know if it’s lenient. I don’t take it all as seriously.
Because a lot of times, people draw these alternative comedy lines, which are ridiculous. A lot of alternative comedy stinks. And a lot of alternative comics are not professional. And when I have someone like a John Caparulo on my show, that guy’s a real comedian. Al Madrigal is a great comedian. These are guys that don’t get a lot of attention in the alt comedy world. But they’re real deal comics, and they take more chances than most alternative acts. So I don’t draw those kinds of lines.
Like when I had Dane Cook on, he wanted to come on, and I felt like I was a little edgy with him, because I didn’t know what I was going to talk to him about. I have nothing personal against him. But I just don’t find him that interesting. I think he’s got a lot of charisma and stuff. But I’m glad we had the conversation.
So I don’t really have that much hostility towards anybody. I just don’t player hate like I used to.
That was a great conversation you had with Dane Cook, and part of the reason was because it wasn’t an in your face, why do you do this type of thing. But it also wasn’t softballing it, either. You made clear what you think, and it was great because you just addressed the issue. There was no blowing it up into something it wasn’t. It was, this is the way I see it, this is the way you see, let’s move on.
Well, I’m glad it came off like that. Some people responded to that in a different way. I was happy to talk to him. But it was really one of those times where I was like, I really don’t know what I’m going to talk to this guy about. I didn’t feel the contempt that a lot of people feel for him. I feel contempt in a way for what he represents culturally, but as a person, and in comedy…
And even with all of this stuff, I don’t keep tabs on who steals what and what’s going on. And that gets me into a little bit of trouble sometimes with people who do. Like with the Carlos stuff, I had to go back and do some homework to make that right. But most of the time, I find that all comics are interesting because we have a lot of time on our hands, we’re very sensitive people, most of us are pretty smart, we’ve taken a tremendous risk with our life, and we have a lot of time where we think about things.
And I just find that the podcast, more than anything else, is just really a way to engage in conversations about life, and I think they’re relatable to everybody, with guys that are fairly philosophical and have a lot of time to process and think about life.
I get comments from a lot of comedians who maybe don’t listen to a lot of podcasts, but your podcast keeps coming up as, “You’ve got to hear this Robin Williams interview,” “You’ve got to hear this Carlos Mencia interview.”
So you get a lot of comments that people don’t listen to many podcasts but they dig mine?
Yeah, yours is the one that comes up. People who have never mentioned a podcast to me will say, you have to listen to this interview or that interview.
I’m happy to hear that. And a lot of my listeners are not comedy people. I mean, that’s the interesting thing. I get a lot of e-mails from people who are just sort of like, my podcast somehow makes them feel less alone, and now they’re being introduced to all these comics. And the primary reason I engage… The Robin interview, I did that, very specifically, because I just couldn’t tolerate kids condescending Robin Williams and his career. To dismiss that guy as a hack and a thief is ludicrous and shallow. And something stuck in my craw about it. So whether I like him or not as a comic is not the issue.
But the bottom line is, I don’t care what kind of comedian you are, whether you’re alternative or whether you think you’re a genius or what, if you’re twenty-two years old and you’re dismissing that guy, a guy who did exactly what you want to do, who started out genuinely as a comic and at twenty-seven got a big break and managed a career for thirty some odd, forty years, and you’re gonna dismiss him that quickly? It aggravated me.
So my intention with that interview was to seek Robin out and let him be a person. Let him speak as a comic.
What did he think when you got in touch with him about it?
Well, I knew him enough. He knows my shit, he knows me. We’ve had conversations before at clubs. He was sort of into it. But it took a while to get there. I went to his house. It was eleven in the morning. There was no audience, it was just him and I, sitting in a room.
And as you heard, he was very candid. He was very human. And we spoke like two comics. And I think that people were able to get a different sense of him. He didn’t really have the energy to… He didn’t jump around much. He was very candid and very honest about all of this stuff. And I felt very happy with that. I was very grateful that we had that conversation.
I think there’s a brilliant mind back there that most people who’ve interviewed him on TV and things, don’t try to access.
He’s a very sensitive guy. And he’s very quiet. And he’s almost shy in a way.
What were your impressions of your time here? A lot of people treasured their time here, and a lot of people also left kind of bitter about it.
I don’t know. I had just started. I was out in L.A. for a year or two at the Comedy Store. I hit the wall on drugs, I went back to Boston where I had gone to college, got a job at a coffee place in Harvard Square and started doing open mics and doing Catch a Rising Star. And then I came in second in the Comedy Riot in 1988, I think. And that started my comedy career. I started working one-nighters for Barry Katz and driving all over the New England area to do comedy.
So my recollections of it are, it was a hard time in the sense that it’s where I started and that’s where I learned to do comedy. Back then you’d do two-man shows, you and the headliner, you usually drive the guy or meet him in the middle of nowhere. Go to Leominster or fucking… Melody, Rhode Island. You didn’t know where the fuck you were going to go. Taunton. I went all over the place. So in a sense, it really taught me how to be a comic.
So I had no bitterness about it. And I was one of the few of my group, that group being Dave Cross and a couple other cats when I was living over there, I worked at Nick’s, I did Mike Clarke rooms. I worked for Barry Katz. I didn’t work at the Connection, because they were douchebags to me. That’s where I learned how to do stand-up. I worked at Johnny D’s. I worked with Gavin, Rogerson, and McDonald. All those guys. Sweeney. I knew all those guys when I was starting out. Credico was around. I was like this kid… Joe Yannetty started at the same I did. We used to do Play It Again Sams in the basement. Jonathan Groff, Joe Yannetty.
I’ve got no resentment towards it. I don’t find myself going up to Boston hardly ever. But it’s not because of any bitterness. I mean, I learned to do comedy there. It’s an important part of my life. I have nothing but… I don’t know if they’d be fond memories, but that’s where I learned how to do it.
People tend to associate different comics who were here with a particular club, as well. You were a Catch guy or you were a Nick’s guy.
I don’t know. A lot of cities take ownership of me. I was back in Boston for a few years, and then after I won the contest, I moved to New York and I was coming up to Boston to do paid work. And I wasn’t getting on in New York so I moved to San Francisco where I really creatively came into myself a little more. San Francisco considers me their own. Boston kind of considers me their own. And New York. I’ve lived in a lot of places for a few years at a time. So my recollection of what those clubs were like, those clubs don’t even exist anymore. I used to do Nick’s downtown, I did Nick’s in Saugus. I did Nick’s, that one in Worcester.
I did Catch a Rising Star, but that guy was out of his fucking mind and made it very difficult for all of us. We’d go to Catch on Sundays and Mondays, and yeah, they’d let us drink for free, and then we’d do the open mics and get mistreated by that Robin guy. And eventually he’d throw you a week, but that’s no way to build your life. I remember everybody drank for free at Catch. That’s why everybody was hanging out there. And trying to get some fucking food.
So was I associated with a specific club? I don’t know. I used to work Stitches, too. I’d just go wherever I could and get onstage.
Getting back to the podcast, you have a few non-comedians on the show, as well, like Sam Lypsite and James Wolcott. Are you looking to expand the non-comedy interview portion of the show?
Absolutely. I want to do whatever I want to do. If I can find somebody interesting I want to talk to, I don’t care if they’re a plumber. I’d like to expand that. It takes a lot of work, and it’s just a matter of setting stuff up and getting to places and doing more road shows. Doing more stuff out in different environments. Adding some textures. I definitely want to expand the interview base.
Is there anyone in particular you’d love to have on?
No. Not really. I recently got an e-mail from Judd Apatow. He wants to come on. I’m looking forward to that. He used to do interviews with comics when he was a kid. And he said he’s got some of those. So I thought it might be fun if we could se what he has and maybe talk about his love of comedy when he was younger. I’m looking forward to it. I hope we can make it happen.
Is this something that you could see yourself doing continuously?
Yes, yes. Because I think it’ll evolve and remain interesting. I really like radio. I like audio. Because you have a lot of freedom with it, and it’s a very intimate medium, and the tone of it is very personal, and that’s something I like to do. I like not knowing where the conversations are going to go.
Stand-up comedy using PowerPoint presentations? If that sounds terribly dry to you, check out Tim Lee’s YouTube videos. The Los Angeles-based comic, who plays Mottley’s Comedy Club tonight and tomorrow, quit his day job as a biologist after years of study and graduating magna cum laude from UC San Diego to become a comedian. And the PowerPoint presentations work better than they have a right to, thanks to Lee’s sharp sense of humor.
I spoke with Lee by e-mail about science, comedy, and where the two intersect.
How did you book Mottley's?
Dwight Slade, a very funny comic from Oregon, recommended I get in touch with them. I had been wanting to do a show in Boston for a while. My father went to MIT and always spoke highly of the town. He's excited that I'll be performing there.
When you were a kid, did you want to be a scientist or a comedian? Or something completely different?
When I was a child I wanted to be a test pilot. Flying through the sky in a machine no one else had ever flown; It seemed so daring and adventurous. Once I figured out those people don't live very long I decided that science seemed a lot more attractive. I could design the technology and let other people test it out. It's better to be the researcher than the guinea pig.
What drew you to biology?
I grew up playing in a river that runs through a forest. As a child I could see all the life fight for existence in that tiny slice of the world. The lizards and the insects, the cougars and the deer, the frogs and the fish all did battle. They were enemies and yet they needed each other to exist. That left a lasting impression on me. It's a perfect metaphor for the entertainment business. It's also what drew me to biology.
Have you always found science funny?
My father, an engineer, would frequently explain scientific concepts to me with funny analogies. That helped me to understand concepts without being intimidated by them. That's probably where I was first introduced to the funny side of science.
At what point did your career path change? Was there something specific that made it change?
The change came from dissatisfaction with what I was doing. I made the mistake of agreeing to do a research project in which I had no interest. My advisor convinced me it was the right thing to do for my career. I went with it. That was a HUGE mistake that cost me years of my life. Every day became a battle with boredom and I was taking a beating. I keep that in mind before I start any project now. Esther Dyson has a quote that I hold dear “Always make new mistakes”.
What draws you to comedy?
Believe it or not I think I discovered the power of comedy when I was a college exchange student in Indonesia. My research at that time involved living with a hunting and gathering tribe in the lowland rainforests of Sumatra. Needless to say there were cultural and communication barriers that were hard to get past. Everything was an issue. They were extremely confused as to why my ass was a different color than the rest of my body. Try explaining that in a language where there is no word for tan.
At first no one in the tribe liked me. The one thing I could do that would make them like me just a little was to make jokes. They thought my self deprecating humor was hysterical. It was my only weapon to get into their hearts.
Do you find any similarities between comedy and science?
Oh yeah, they are opposite sides of the same coin. Straight logic is science, twisted logic is comedy.
Any influences for combining science and comedy?
There's a lot out there from my college professors to Mark Twain but I think Norm Goldblatt deserves a special shout out. He's a physicist that has been doing science humor for decades. He has a knack for finding the funny in science and I always enjoy watching him perform.
How did you start with the PowerPoint presentations?
I did my first PowerPoint jokes during talks I would give as a graduate student. As an undergraduate I always enjoyed it when my professors would throw a gag slide into their lectures, so when I started giving talks I decided to do the same. Some people loved the jokes, others hated them. I didn't know at the time that would be the case with every joke. There is no joke that everyone likes. As a comedian you just have to get used to it.
Do you still have a day job in science?
No, I haven't had a day job in a few years now. I decided to go for it in comedy and that meant getting rid of the safety net. I wanted to push myself. I guess that's the test pilot thing coming back.
How do you overcome the limitations of doing PowerPoint presentations in your stand-up? Seems like it would be tough to work on that tight five at an open mic.
When I started at the comedy open mics I did straight stand up for a over a year before I brought the PowerPoint back into it. That happened when I found a sports bar with a comedy night. They had a better AV setup than any of the clubs. My friend Drennon Davis was using PowerPoint at that venue to do twisted children's cartoons. I tried the PowerPoint science jokes there and the audience loved it. I figured if it went over well at a sports bar it would probably go over well other places.
How do you prep an audience for science-themed comedy? Is there any assumed knowledge on their part?
Most people will watch a video on line before coming to the show. If they like the video they come to the show. If they don't, they go to another show. It's simple but it works.
The first time I saw Christopher Titus perform, I was cover comedy for The Buffalo News, and he was performing at the Funny Bone near SUNY Buffalo, my alma mater. He put on a dark show with long moments where the audience didn’t know how to react, like relating how he broke his mother’s suicide to his father over the phone.
That show would become his one-man show, Norman Rockwell Is Bleeding, which would then become his Fox sitcom, Titus. What I didn’t know was that I had caught Titus at a turning point, where he decided what he wanted to do with his comedy after more than a decade in the clubs.
Titus comes to the Comedy Connection Wilbur Theatre with a full plate. He’s working on a new sitcom for Fox, an update of Titus based on his last Comedy Central special, Love Is Evol. He’s also trying to turn his rejected Comedy Central pilot, Special Unit, into a movie. And he’s got a new live show, Neverlution,, which he’s workshopping for the Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal next month.
I spoke with him by phone.
I always expect to hear that you’ve been kidnapped or your wife has shot at you when we speak.
That’s the next special.
Are you at a happy point in your life? I know that in Love Is Evol, you talked about actually being happy.
Yeah, I am, actually. The new one is called Neverlution, The new one is about how we’ve lost our country, how we just gave it away and how we’re raising a whole generation of kids who aren’t going to take it back for us. I’m getting that ready for the Montreal Comedy Festival, which is… I’ve got to have it perfect and ready by July 12.
So one-man shows are still something you’re interested in doing even with everything else you’ve got going on?
It’s such a misnomer, though. People always tell me, Titus, you do such a one-man show style, but I always kind of look at it as, I just do comedy for an hour and fifteen minutes with a them. I saw Lily Tomlin years ago do Signs of Intelligent Life and it was thematic and it was really funny.
The guy I’m working with now, he got Eddie Izzard going at Westbeth Entertainment. He kind of picked me up. He said, “You really do that show in a club?” And I’m like, “Yeah, that’s how I make sure it’s funny.” In a theater, people are willing to let it be quiet and not funny for a while. But if I work in a club where it has to be funny every eighteen seconds, then I get to the theater and I take those moments, and it’s hilariously funny, it just makes it that much better.
I remember seeing you years ago in Buffalo when you were working on the show that would become Norman Rockwell is Bleeding –
Oh, god, when I was really angry.
I remember you were asking the club owner, who was also a comic, for advice on putting that in club setting.
Yeah, Paul. I think his name was Paul. That was one of the first early weeks of me really just going with my new style. I remember that. I found out if you’re just really funny… I think it would be hard to take from a theater to a club, to work on a theater piece that had a lot of good moments in it but not a lot of funny in it, and then try to take that to a comedy club, you’d be dead.
You’d wind up doing highlights, and it would…
It would kill it. I agree.
Wow. You know me all the way back to Buffalo. Wow.
You were in LA then, right, and touring with that in clubs?
Yeah, but if I remember correctly with Buffalo, I had been doing comedy for twelve years, and I got to this really weird place where I really hated my act because I hadn’t found anything, and when I went to Buffalo, I just changed my act. I just started doing edgier, I started performing angrily, and performing like who I really am inside, I guess, and really kind of pushing it. It was working, so I pushed it so far that at one point, I started to walk people out of the room, and then I pulled it back to where it felt comfortable, and that’s where I am now.
So that period was a turning point for you, you’d say?
Definitely. I was going to quit comedy. I was really going to quit comedy. It just didn’t work.
I had gotten kind of a backward impression of that, where you had been doing that kind of show with those moments where you were digging yourself a hole, especially talking about your mother’s suicide, and trying to reel them back in after that, and you were trying to make it work more in a club.
This was before I got the show, right?
We talked afterwards and you were working on something.
This was ’97 or ’98?
Yeah.
So if we go back to then, yeah, it really got clear that I didn’t want to do bullshit comedy anymore. I didn’t want to do ten minutes on masturbation, ten minutes about porn, ten minutes about commercials, ten minutes about how stupid my girlfriend or wife is. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to do something different in a club. Paul was a comic, he was totally okay with it.
The show you did there was almost exactly Norman Rockwell is Bleeding, I think.
Yeah, I had just got it in shape. In ’98, we put it up in a theater – that was in the summer, wasn’t it? We put it up in a theater like a month later, we put it in a theater in September, and that’s when I got the deal for Titus.
Most of the shows of yours I’ve seen have been intensely personal, and if this is a broader political show, how does it relate back to you?
It’s weird. If you saw The End of the World, it was very topical, and about [raising my kids after 9/11]. This one is about the social structure that we’ve actually currently built in our society right now. I was trying to figure out what this show is about.
It’s not about the politics, it’s about us. I have a whole bit about, it’s not illegal immigration’s fault, it’s our fault for going to Home Depot and picking up six of those guys to build an unpermitted bathroom in a house we can’t afford. That’s the problem. And it’s all about personal responsibility and taking the country back. Dealing with congress and the senate the way they need to be dealt with. I have some weird ideas in this show.
Will we be seeing that show at the Wilbur?
Yeah. I’ve gotta get it right, so I’m really working on it.
Billy Connolly’s last shows in Boston, in 2007, were a revelation for audiences that hadn’t had a chance to see him in years. Rambling, profane, and hilarious, Connolly has a winning confidence onstage, truly allowing himself to go wherever his brain will take him. Connolly’s confidence isn’t steeped in knowing what comes next, it’s about not knowing and pushing forward anyway.
Connolly’s charisma and inventiveness have made him a legend in he U.K., where he regularly tops “best comic” readers polls, even though he has lived in the States for nearly twenty years (he’s lived in New York since 2008, and lived in L.A. before that). He’s been a pirate in the Muppets version of Treasure Island, a zombie in Fido, and faithful servant to the Queen in Mrs. Brown. He’s also been an action star in both the original Boondock Saints and the recent sequel, and he’ll be a Lilliputian in a new version of Gulliver’s Travels. And he was almost Doctor Who once.
If that’s not enough Connolly for you, you can even get his voice on your GPS device. Or you can go see him Friday at the Shubert Theatre.
I spoke with Connolly by phone last week, a conversation that was itself rambling, profane, and hilarious.
I see the Boston dates are the only ones on your schedule.
Yeah, we’re going to start doing little sporadic raids into the country instead of doing tours all the time. The next one up is Chicago after that. It’s a terrible problem getting dates. It takes you a year and a half to set up a tour, you know? This way you can grab two nights here and three nights there.
So you don’t think you’ll do a standard sort of tour… Oh, I will again, but they just take so long to prepare. Meanwhile, you’re sitting spinning your thumbs wondering what to do next.
It looks like you have plenty of movie roles to fill in the time.
Yeah, yeah, I’ve been very lucky that way. Aye. And I’ve been drawing for a while, and I’ve just got news that there’s a gallery in London interested in doing an exhibition of my drawings. So I’m very pleased with myself.
Is that something you think you’d release as a book?
I don’t know. Really, because I’ve never done anything like this before. I can’t draw. I’m just [doing] abstract and strange things. I couldn’t draw a cat or a mouse or a bicycle or anything like that.
It’s an interesting thing to pursue – if you say of yourself, “I can’t draw,” what do you get out of it?
Yeah… there’s just something lurking in your brain, you just let it drive your hand. It’s very strange – it’s very pleasant.
You’ve said that sometimes you forget what you do for a living and it’ll only come back to you once you’re onstage.
I do that very often.
Is it something you’ve learned to combat? It seems it came at you again in 2008.
Yeah, it’s a weird thing that I have to trust myself that it’s always there. You know? Because there’s no way to check up on it. And the more nervous you get, the less you remember. It’s a terrifying set of circumstances.
I remember, at Astoria [Theatre] once, the promoter was in the back of the car, and my roadie was beside me in the front. And we were driving up to the gate in Queensland, and I said to the roadie, “How do I start?” And he said, well, you usually say such and such. I said, “Oh yeah. What do I usually say after that?” And he told me. I went, “Yeah, yeah. What was the punchline?” And he told me and I went, “Oh, yeah, of course!” The gig was hugely successful, and I came off and he said, “My god,” he said, “I was terrified. I thought you were mentally ill, asking your driver. Was that for my benefit?” I said, “No, I was being absolutely serious.” As I get nervous, I forget everything.
You should have your driver or your roadie up onstage with you.
Oh, yeah. And I take notes and I never look at them, because they mean very little. It’s not like a diary. They’re just jottings, little dash jottings. So when you look at them, you get very, very little information. Or you get half a page of information, but you get on and talk for two hours. Half a page, a thing that says, “The army.” Thank you very much.
I remember we did a TV interview while you were here, and you pulled it out and read a few phrases and had no idea what the hell they meant.
[laughs] That’s right. I’ve got loads of those books. I actually like the books themselves, you know those wee notebooks you buy in bookshops, the wee black ones. Hemmingway used to use one. I forget what they’re called, but I’ve got loads of them tucked in pockets all over the place. They’re absolutely useless. To make anything of it you’d have to round all the notebooks up and put them together. My wife’ll publish them when I’m dead. I’ll do that for journalists. Sometimes I’ll just read out the list. I’ll take a list onstage and read out the stage, and it’s nothing like what I just did. I can’t explain it. I’ve never been able to explain it. It’s a kind of organic affair.
John Lennon said once that the Beatles would write lyrics just to see what the critics would make of them. Just to confuse tham and see how they would over-analyze them.
Oh, yeah. I remember. Because John, at the time, I was around at the time, and the Melody Maker, the weekly music newspaper, would come out on a Friday, but you could get it in London on a Thursday night around midnight, and John Lennon said, I love Thursday nights around midnight. I go down to Piccadilly and pick up a Melody Maker and see what my lyrics are about.
You should release some of those lists now to see what people make of them.
Yeah. Maybe we should make a poem of them, and a drawing. I don’t know.
It’d be a Lewis Carroll type of –
Oh, it’d be nothing as pretty as that. It’s a bit coarse. It’s kind of coarse, I think. But it’s good to look back. Sometimes I’ll read [something], my god. Sometimes you think you’re not moving along, you’ve been doing the same thing for a long time. Then you look at your lists, and you’re way beyond them. It’s kind of confusing. I’ve never really been in total control of it. And frankly, I don’t want to be. A lot of guys, you look at them and you can tell the stuff, they’ve written it. They didn’t think it up – well, they thought it up and wrote it down in a methodical way, and it’s got that written feel to it. I hate it when you’re watching a comedian and you think, he has said this a million times, these same lines.
I guess the trick is to write something and perform it as if you haven’t.
I’ve never written anything, it just happens. I’ve attempted to write it afterwards so as I might remember, but I’ve never gotten round to that either.
Do you get the feeling that what you’re doing is still rebellious, the way it was earlier on?
There’s a great deal of rebellion involved in it because there’s a great deal of rebellion in me. I’m still angry about everything, you know? I’m still angry about war, about politics, and the fact that we haven’t moved along as a species. I still get angry when I watch television and people are trying to justify being in Afghanistan and telling us it’s a corrupt regime. You’re sending your sons to defend a corrupt regime. That still makes me angry and rebellious.
How do joy and anger fit together?
If you’re relying on just the anger, you’re up a gum tree. You’ve had it. But then anger can become fun. It’s like, if you’re giving your children a lecture on how to behave and you fart in the middle of it, they won’t believe a word you say. It’s just one of those things. Everybody will fall about the room and nobody will give one shit about what you just said, no matter how important it was. Because comedy and vulgarity, like I deal in, is just like that. It takes its own stand.
You said something last time we spoke that’s stuck with me, about profanity not being cursing and not being swearing – it’s profanity or vulgarity, it’s not cursing or swearing.
A lot of people don’t know what language is, you know? To curse or swear you have to invoke gods. And I don’t. I don’t believe in them, so how can I invoke them? I’m neither cursing nor swearing. I’m merely being profane. And I don’t give a fuck what you think about it. If you don’t like it, go watch someone else. Go watch Jimmy Fallon and lose the fucking will to live.
Not a big fan?
Jesus. His next joke’ll be his first.
Were you surprised that Boondock Saints II finally got made?
No, I wasn’t. It had so much good will riding along for it from so many good people, you know? It just had to be done. And of course, it had that extraordinary drive by Duffy, by Troy Duffy. He’s just a driven man. If it didn’t happen, somebody would’ve got hurt. [laughs]
Is that kind of thing fun to play? The action roles?
It’s amazingly good to play, especially with a cast like that, where you’ve all done it before and you all know and like each other. And I can say with my hand on my heart there’s nobody in the movie I don’t like. I like them all and they all like me. We got on like a house on fire. And so we all met in Toronto to do the second one, it was like – well, I’ve never been to a school reunion, but I imagine that’s what they’re like. “Oh, good to see you! You look like you’ve lost weight.” All eating and laughing and getting on with it. And everybody was so together and knew their part so well.
Not only that, Troy had done amazing things. He had hired fans as extras. Dedicated fans who had been writing, and he said, “Do you want to be in it?” Shit, yeah. So they’d flown in from all over the place to be in it. Some of them had the actual tattoos and all that. So there was an extraordinary atmosphere about it. So they weren’t like regular extras. There was a different feel about the place.
That’s an unusual thing for a movie, would you say?
Yeah, well, often you’ll get extras that are kind of wooden. They’ve done it a million times and they’ve got kind of a ho-hum attitude to it. So even the extras were up to it. There was kind of a bright-eyed feel to it.
You’ve been named recently, yet again, Britain’s favorite comedian by AskJeeves.com and by Channel 4.
That’s right. I heard that last week. It means very little to me. You don’t even get a phone call. Do you know that? I get nothing. They don’t even phone me to tell me. If I want to know how I did I have to watch the program. Or people tell you in the street, “Oh, I see you’ve won.” “What? What have I won?”
But at the same time I’m… I’m a bit proud of it. Of course I am. But it’s also kind of a burden, and I do feel the weight of it. And it’s something that I never asked for. Like if you had to enter, I’d have never entered a competition like that. Because you can go to a bar and just see somebody being brilliant. He’s having a great night, he’s flying, he’s in the zone. And that night, he’s the best comedian in the world.
Do you get to see, in New York, there’s probably a lot more comedy that’s more accessible to you.
I tend not to. I sometimes go to Annabelle’s, but it’s very, very rare. And it’s usually to see someone I’ve no chance of stealing from.
Have you ever found yourself unwittingly –
Oh, many, many times. Because a year later it rumbles into your head and you think it’s your own.
Do people call you on it?
No, I’ve never been called on it, but it’s just dawned on me where I got it. Maybe I’ve been doing it two or three weeks and I’m like, shit! I remember where I got it now.
That’s got to be an immensely disappointing feeling.
Yeah. It is for a while, but there are so few things that are totally original. And this is the absolute truth, I can say this with my hand on my heart, and swear on my children’s lives, that I thought I’d said the most original thing ever. My wife was writing a book about me, and I’d said I don’t like going on holiday. I don’t like those kind of hotel holidays, because that’s my life – flying and going to hotels. And she said why don’t we go on a cruise? And I said, oh, you’re joking. And I swear this is true. I said to her, “It’s like jail with an option of drowning.” Right? It’s a prison with an option of drowning. And I thought it was really funny and so did she. And tra la la.
About a year later, I was reading something by Admiral Lord Nelson, and one of his guys had something almost identical. Fucking Lord Nelson! What was that, the 18th century, 19th century? Fucking hell! I didn’t know that was possible. Sometimes you think you’re being dead original and boom.
There’s also got to be some allowance for people who are outright stealing material. That’s not something I would think could be condoned.
Some people steal outright and it’s outrageous. It’s intellectual property, and it’s a crime. And I include people who tape you and stick it online. My material is none of their fucking business to do with what they wish. You can’t just take the workings of my brain and start putting them where you want to. That’s such an arrogance.
But there are other guys, and I won’t name names, who are often accused of stealing when they’re not stealers at all. They are comedy black holes, everything goes into their head and comes out a different shape. And I think you probably know who I’m talking about. He’s often accused of stealing, and he doesn’t. I don’t believe he’s ever stolen a word, consciously.
Some people, they just absorb it. They go to clubs all the time and perform all the time, and all the people they hear all go into their head and comes out as a mish-mash. I think that’s art itself. I think writers do that constantly. Novelists do it all the time.
Were you skeptical when you were asked to lend your voice to a satnav for Tom-Tom GPS?
Oh, I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t, because I had been doing a thing about it onstage. My Range Rover had a very posh woman [affects an upscale woman’s voice], “Talking like that, how do you do?” And she called roundabouts “traffic circles.” I was telling the audience about it, she goes, in a huff, if I take a wrong turn, she gives me the silent treatment. She won’t talk to me for half an hour. So I said, put me on, I’ll do one. And I did a spoof one onstage, you know. And I would say, “Turn right… I said right, ya prick.” And lo, out of the blue came the offer. John Cleese had done one.
Is the Gulliver’s Travels your in live action or animated?
It’s live. But it’s all green screen.
It’s interesting casting, making you a Lilliputian, considering your nickname is – The Big Yin, yeah. Like the giant. What a nice guy.
The tallest Lilliputian.
[laughs] A giant dwarf. It was a kind of tiresome process, acting at a piece of plaster on a wall, or a mark or a laser dot on a wall. Talking to it. But it was made up by the fact that the cast were lovely and funny and everything, you know. And Jack’s such a lovely wee man to work with.
Do you think comedy audiences have changed much since you started?
Not as far as I can see. Although I don’t get as many hecklers as I used to, and I’m delighted to hear it. Earlier in my career, I used to get hecklers, shouting and bothering. They like to listen to what you’re going to say. They know you’re inventive and you’re going to build something. So I can only speak for myself, but I tend to get people who are there to see me because they like me. SO I can’t really judge on the broader audience the way a guy who does comedy clubs could tell you. He would be better to ask if the audiences are changing. Mine aren’t changing. They people who like me come to see me and we all have a great time.
Do you ever want to get back up on a club stage and do a smaller show?
No, I don’t, because I never did it. When I did the clubby stuff I was a folkie, I was a musician. I was in bands, and I was being funny between songs and stuff. And I have no desire to do that anymore. Although I did it Saturday with Steve Martin. We had a fantastic jam. Have you ever heard of a guy named Tony Trischka? He was there and Mark Johnson who invented this style called clawgrass. And a fiddler and a mandolin player, and a guitar and a bass player, out at Steve’s house. Oh, it was great.
Have you ever wanted to play music again?
Yes, I get the urge, but I don’t quite know what to do about it. I don’t want to be a musician again. I don’t want to be in bands. I don’t like the arena. I don’t want to go around to radio stations talking to fuckwits all my life. The music side of things is hell, talking to these music stations. These idiots who think they know what they’re talking about who couldn’t fucking play with themselves, you know?
What would it look like if you did it? It would be hard for you at this point to go onstage and just do a set of music without doing comedy.
I don’t know. I think I would be driven to make it funny. Well, Steve’s having a lovely time. Steve Martin’s out touring with a bluegrass band. And he manages perfectly. But I don’t know if I could. But over the years, I’ve been trying to work out a way of trying to put my banjo back in to my act. But I can’t find a place where I could stop talking and play. And I haven’t done that. As soon as I stop playing I start talking again.
Well maybe just bring it up with you, and whatever happens –
And just leave it on the floor or have it standing there, the way I used to. I don’t know. I really don’t know what to do about it. Then I start questioning why I’m doing it. Am I playing it just because I can, am I showing off? What am I doing here? What is the point? Should I write something funny for it or should I just play it nice. I don’t know what to do. I think too much about it. Sometimes you should stop thinking about it and do things.
Your childhood comes up often onstage. How do you find something new in topics you’ve covered to frequently?
It’s because they’re not huge chunks, really. Usually they’re just moments. They’re a story of a particular day or an event. The entire event I’m talking about didn’t take a day, and I’ve got 67 years worth.
I suppose if you tried to start at the beginning, all hell would break loose.
Bring on this huge, fat diary. “Then is was Tuesday, a rainy day if I remember. 1942.” [laughs]
Well, you are known for doing long stretches of material. You could probably beat your record for that pretty easily if you started out that way.
There’s a thing on YouTube, and if you look it up, it’s “Billy Connolly Wildebeest.” That was an ad-lib. On that night, I’ve only done it like three times, Wildebeest, and that night that’s on YouTube is I think the second time I ever did it. It was exactly the same as the first night, and it came in one piece. You might be amazed. It’s very long. Sometimes ad-libs come complete. Big Chunks.
Is there anything else you’re up to that I’ve missed?
Not at the moment, no. I’m having the time of my life just doing bugger all. Except I draw in the morning and I go for a cigar with my friends in the afternoon.
