Chancing my arm at stand-up comedy
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My love for stand-up
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I've often thought of myself as someone who loved making people laugh. I'd played that role at school, though I'm not sure others remember me that way. In college too, I was delighted when others were laughing - whether with me or, occasionally, at me.
I’d been watching stand-up since around 2007, when Russell Peters was all the rage. An Indian-origin stand-up comic was unheard of, and he quickly built up a fanbase in Dubai. He seemed to put in front of people things that were uncomfortable to say, but fun to laugh at, and at the time, that was refreshing. It was also okay, as long as it was confined to the stand-up stage. Thanks to the internet, I quickly followed up with videos of George Carlin, Mitch Hedberg, Eddie Izzard, Louis CK, Jerry Seinfeld and many others.
Late 2014, soon after moving to the US, I convinced some friends to take a punt on watching Seinfeld’s show. Unfortunately, the jokes were geared towards an American audience, and we were instead left flummoxed with jokes about Pop-Tarts and so on. I realized relatability was a big part of stand-up comedy.
The mid-2010s were - in my view - the peak of Indian stand-up comedy. I saw Kenny Sebastian with a guitar in Bombay, where he ended a small show, but was the funniest of the three comics on stage. On weekends, my friends and I would catch up on Biswa’s great sets (fans and nail cutters being a personal favorite) and the pretentious movie reviews series, which to me at the time felt like the funniest thing ever. Anirban’s “Afreen Afreen” bit is another personal favorite. I watched Kamra and Grover with their upstart-against-the-man vibe - a zeitgeist associated with coming-of-age, which I’ve always been partial to.
I saw multiple Indian comics perform live in the US. I saw Kunal Kamra, Rahul Subramanian, Kanan Gill, Abhishek Upmanyu, Karunesh Talwar, Biswa Kalyan Rath with Kanan’s “Teetar” being the best show I’d seen until I saw Samay Raina in 2023, which brought back the sense of being a kid watching Russell Peters. He created a “safe space” where relatability met taboos.
If you’re looking for recommendations in a similar vein, Bill Burr is another favorite of mine. He’s excellent at putting an uncomfortable thought in your head and then walking you around to see the funny side of it. I’ve loved all his Netflix specials.
Of late, I’m partial to Nate Bargatze, with his SNL sketch being a resounding hit amongst many audiences. People have asked me who my favorite comic is, and that’s one that’s really hard to answer. I’ll probably have to link them to this post.
My “journey” into stand-up comedy
So, it is with this background in stand-up comedy - and encouragement from a couple of friends to give it a go - that I talked myself into the idea. My wife found an open mic I could chance my arm at and almost immediately it became more evident than ever before that doing stand-up comedy was going to be very different from cracking a joke with a group of friends. For one, amongst a group of friends, you can bide your time. It’s similar to playing a match of Test cricket. You can wait until you spot a bad ball, or in this case, a good setup. With stand-up comedy, it is more like you’ve announced to everyone that you are going to hit the next 10 balls for sixes (or home runs for any Americans in the crowd) and they are all waiting in eager anticipation.
Open Mics
Having attended a couple of open mics in the past, I expected this one to be similar - people would perform very amateurish “sets”, rife with unfunny jokes and many might even simply read in a monotone from a notepad. The time limit was 5 minutes, but if this was like the previous open mics I’d seen, many would struggle to hit even the 4-minute mark. I’d signed up at the 4th spot, thinking the first few comedians were likely confident or good and would serve to warm up the crowd, allowing my few scrambled thoughts to get some laughs thanks to being in their wake. To say I was in for a shock would be a significant understatement.
What I saw instead was comic after comic delivering extremely polished, tight sets. Me? I didn’t even know what a tight set was at that point (it’s a set packed with punchlines/jokes, with little room for setups or filler). Each of their sets easily hit the 5-minute mark, with many having so many jokes that they went over. Meanwhile, I had sauntered in with one rambling story and a couple of shorter jokes. I paused and slowed my delivery hoping to near 5 minutes. At the end, I managed 3:22 and two of my four bits got a laugh. Most of those who performed had sets good enough that they carried it over to the following shows with minor modifications. For comparison, I had around 40 seconds’ worth of material.
Right after the open mic was an opportunity to talk to the other comics who performed. I went out seeking feedback, and most remembered one bit from the set. VB told me to cut out my entire opening joke, which meant my “set” was now just two jokes. VS asked if I’d attended the workshop and when I replied with a “no”, he helpfully suggested I check out Samay Raina’s video with Vidit Gujrathi.
I spent the next few weeks trying to write new material, and watching comics talk about the art of stand-up comedy. I perused my old emails and found a newsletter I’d subscribed to where Alingon Mitra broke down what different comics did well to get the audience laughing. I realized I don’t have the luxury of a 1-hour show, so I had better cut down on the fluff and get my set tighter. I learned what “tight” meant and wrote enough material to fill five minutes. After the second open mic, where I again forgot parts of my set, I realized I had better prioritize memorizing this whole thing. The second open mic was a better attempt - I had at least 5 minutes worth of material, but many of the jokes were still very weak. The challenge with getting feedback is, no one wants to tell you your entire set is horrible, so at best you get 2-3 jokes talked about each time - usually your weakest. This means you need to keep performing, keep seeking feedback and keep rooting out your weakest jokes, on repeat. The crowd was encouraging but many jokes were either too niche for the crowd, not understood the way I intended or just plain bad. On occasion, I wasn’t sure if the laughs were with me or at me. I wasn’t sure it mattered.
The qualifying show
The comics from the Open Mics would be entering a stand-up comic competition, consisting of a qualifying show, followed by a finale, comprising the top 10 comics across the qualifying shows.
Sigh, back to my notes app. I went through “funny thoughts” I’d written, which unfortunately is not enough for a joke on stage. Could I shape any of these into a joke? I went through more concrete jokes that I’d jotted down and tried to organize them into “bits” (jokes on one topic). I begrudgingly cut out jokes that didn’t fit under any of the broad themes of my set. I repeatedly practised my set out loud aiming to memorize the entire thing. Practice performance after practice performance, all in front of the mirror or by myself in a room. The day of the show came. I’d called 9 friends to be in the audience. I didn’t expect all of them to turn up, but it turns out I have great friends! This was more than most had called, and given the result was going to be determined by audience voting, I thought my score would undoubtedly be boosted by that. What I think ended up happening was that they gave me tens, like most friends, but didn’t want to discourage others, so gave everyone else high scores as well. Of course, the ones with killer sets deserved and got tens as well.
On stage, I was very concerned with the 5:30 limit, after which a penalty would be applied, and so I rushed through my jokes. If the audience wanted to laugh and gather their breath? Too bad, I couldn’t wait and risk the penalty. I felt like I got good laughs from the crowd. Show done, I ended up fourth. The comic who finished “fifth” was better than me on all counts. Time to seek feedback. Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately - my friends were very forthcoming with their feedback. They loved the show. The comics were great. My set? Well… this joke was weak, and that joke was weak, and that other joke they didn’t really get, but the other comics were stellar. My jokes were okay, but relatability in the other sets made them enjoyable. Great, I felt horrid. It really sucks to hear something you put so much effort into was… basically shit. Anyway, I’m performing for an audience, I told myself, and so I should get more feedback, no matter how awful it felt. So, I did - over the next few days, I tried getting more feedback, a few drips at a time, about as much as I could mentally manage in a day. After all, the finale was around three weeks away, and so I had some time to try and come up with something better.
The finale
I looked up more videos. Comedians performing stand-up and comedians talking about performing. When they performed, I paused the video and tried to guess what the punchline could be. This wasn’t as helpful as I thought, I could rarely guess their punchlines. I saw Seinfeld, Gervais, Chris Rock and others talk about comedy. I realized that they might be too far removed from the amateur stand-up scene, so then I switched to watching less successful comedians talk about joke writing. One video with Nate Bargatze on the Hot Breath comedy YouTube channel caught my attention (a must-watch for any aspiring comic). He recommended starting with an introductory line so the audience could get used to your style of speech (rhythm, etc.). He talked about “murdering” an audience. How you need to absolutely kill. He had an anecdote about a comic getting down from the stage and thinking his set went well. Then, he said, he realized that this comic had never “murdered” so he didn’t even know what “good” looked like.
Videos of the qualifying show were now available. As much as I didn’t want to (anxiety?), I watched mine back. Urgh, it wasn’t great - I wasn’t happy with my delivery and my pacing was extremely rushed. I figured my delivery was poor because I’d memorized things too well. It was like a robot reading a script. I decided to memorize slightly less well - I’d still learn the material, the structure and the jokes but in case I “forgot” a couple of words, I decided to simply try to improvise. I hoped that would help with having it seem a little more “natural”. My pacing was rushed due to the time constraint, so I simply told myself to not worry about the penalty anymore - if I ran over, so be it. It’s the last show after all.
I knew I needed to check out some of the other comics’ performances as well. I didn’t want to - out of fear of reliving how much better people could be at the activity you’re aiming to excel at - but, I had to. It immediately became clear to me what Nate was talking about with respect to “murdering”. I thought I got laughs, but they actually did. Huge laughs.
Okay, back to the drawing board. I wrote 6 to 7 minutes of material over the next couple of weeks. A fellow comic (KA) had told me I needed to actively seek out feedback if I wanted to improve. I pushed the main organizer (AC) to give me feedback. On things I wasn’t sure about, I asked ChatGPT for a second opinion, then a third. It confirmed that the feedback others had given was on point. I watched the videos of the winners of Show One again and tried to notice what they’d done differently from me. From their dressing style (both wore casual shirts) to their delivery (having a cheerful disposition besides excellent delivery), I tried to see if I could use anything to improve my performance. I saw the winner of Show Two, DS, mention that he’d performed endless times for his significant other. I’d only practiced alone. I thought I might as well try what worked for the winners. I performed for my significant other, and also for my cousin. More feedback. This joke is weak, that joke is weak. The delivery is shit. After continuously reworking the jokes, the last of which I reworked ten minutes before leaving for the show, I performed at the finale. It felt different. The crowd was actually laughing. Was this “murdering”? The results were going to be announced. I wasn’t too worried about the results - I don’t think comedy is really a competition in that sense. I got a few big laughs, which is what my aim was, and possibly also got the respect of my fellow comedians (given my earlier, weaker sets). I finished tied third, completely honored to stand on stage with people who could write so much so well. A couple of audience members came up after the show and said they were rooting for me to win - well, that’s more than I could have dreamed of.
Post-script
Videos for the finale were now available. I watched my performance back, cringing through parts. The bad news? There was a lot that needed to be improved. The good news? There was a lot that could be improved.