Hell Gigs
One of my closest friends in the world (and the father of my godson Jude) Tim Mcintire just released a new CD entitled "Scatterbrained" and also got a write up in the Boston Globe's Calandar section, which is ultra-cool. Tim is one of the best comedians I've had the pleasure of working with and one of the few comics who I would NOT want to follow onstage. He has the ability to absolutely crush and render any other comics' meager ramblings obsolete. So do yourself a favor and check out the article as well as the CD. I believe he also has his first CD "Poor Impulse Control" up for free on his site and has some clips from the new CD up on My Space.
OK, enough shameless plugging for friends. Man, I start to get a headache if I go that long without actually talking about myself.
One of the things about Tim's CD that is getting a lot of attention is the fact that he put a 30 minute uber bomb set he did on there as a special "bonus" track. This is not a comic not doing well, this is the H-Bomb of sets (appropriately entitled "Nagasaki"). I don't think a younger comic or someone not that familiar with the business would understand why you would put something like that on your CD for all to hear.
The simple answer is: It's hysterical.
I've been there and believe me it's not fun and at the same time...it is. I've had sets where no one listened, a fight broke out, someone tried to get onstage with me (a drunk guy who I abruptly 'jousted' off using my mic stand...and then finished the joke I was telling), I've even had a person get up and play pinball right in the middle (doesn't sound so bad until you realize the pinball machine is actually right at the stage. Abutting it even).
While you're going through it, it sucks. It's awful. You do a joke and it gets nothing. OK, so that didn't get them but surely the next one will. How about the next one? Maybe this one? Um, a rabbi and a priest walk into a bar...? No? How about you come up here and try it? Where are you from?!
You get a feeling in your stomach comparable to a sucking gunshot wound. There is the inevitable sweat on the brow and forehead and the forced smile of "this doesn't really bother me at all". But it does. And then one day...
...it doesn't.
When I first started, I would live and breathe a bombed set day and night. What did I do wrong? How could I have gotten them? And then one day your confidence outweighs your lack of experience and it doesn't matter. Sure I want to give people their money's worth and kick ass and have them rolling, but sometimes it doesn't happen that way and you roll with it. It comes with becoming professional. You can go too far the other way with "screw these people, I'm hysterical and they just don't get me. It's them not me!" because there are plenty of times when it is most CERTAINLY me and not them. There are also the times when nothing you do is going to change it and you just suffer through your 5, 15, 30, (God help you) 45 minute set. You eat it, collect your check and hop in the car for the 2 hour drive home.
And then you laugh. Because now you have one more horror story to share with the other comics at the bar after the next show you kill at.
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