It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) 9145 (2355)
Friday, October 5, 2007-3:15 P.M. CDT
Standup comedy is over. The "dead cat bounce" has happened, and we've got bigger things to deal with now, like correcting our world and adapting to the bleak landscape that is stretching out in all directions all the way to the horizon.
Comedy is dead. I hate to be the one to "call it," but I've seen too much the last few months to be convinced otherwise. Clubs are closing, or teetering on the edge of absolute bankruptcy, comics are struggling to fill their schedules, work is falling out and except for the few who cater to corporate functions, cruise ships or other secure audiences, our industry as a whole is looking like it is on the verge of a total collapse.
I started doing standup comedy right after the big comedy "boom" of the mid-80's. During that time, Ronald Reagan was the President of the United States, people were making money, and they were recovering from a very depressing time in this country called the 1970's. During that time, the economy was in a very deep recession, there was an energy crisis, and American pride was at an all-time low. Disco was killing rock 'n' roll, cocaine was the only way a lot of people could get up in the morning, Iran had American hostages that we couldn't get released by force or diplomacy, and there was a nationwide malaise. America needed a shot in the ass. Along came "Dutch."
Reagan boosted the American economy by artificial means, and prosperity became the norm throughout the 1980's. Vice President Bush criticized Reagan's plans at the time as "Voodoo Economics" and when the checks started coming due during his presidency in the late 80's and early 90's, he was found to be correct in his assumptions. There was a great deal of dissatisfaction during the 1980's, despite the prosperity that was all around. Punk rock rose out of the ashes of decadent disco, as well as the overlying nihilistic themes of heavy metal. And over in the corner, standup comedy reared it's head, with over-the-top performers like Sam Kinison, Emo Phillips, Howey Mandel and Robin Williams, banging the drum at a manic pace to remind us that something was still wrong.
Comedy thrived because it was a release, an explosion let out in small bursts of laughter in small, dark, smoky clubs. The spartan brick wall that became the cliche for a standup comedy club was a remnant of the underground coffee houses of the 50's and 60's where visionairies like Lenny Bruce, Mort Sahl and their ilk began singing songs of criticism and discontent. In the 80's, performers like Bobcat Goldthwait, Bill Hicks and others used their "freedom of screech" to trumpet the call to arms for a generation not to be lulled into complacency. In Canada, voices like Kenny Robinson, Ron Vaudry and others were adding to the discourse as well. An art form that came to adolescence on the Merv Griffin show and the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson was now in full-blown adulthood, and itching to make a name for itself in the world.
Well, after a few fits and starts in the 90's and the early years of the 2000's, comedy is looking pretty grey at the temples and just doesn't seem to be able to get around very well anymore. Clubs are closing, major festivals have called it quits, and the rooms that are prospering are the "one-nighters" out in the sticks, the communities where everyone is about ten years behind the times anyway, and they still squeal in delight when someone sings their favorite song at karaoke night, and the acid-washed jeans are still hanging on like some sort of lifeboat off the fashion Titanic.
The club in Rochester that I once made my home seems to be in similar trouble; flagging crowds, dissatisfaction with acts that kill elsewhere, and currently, an inability to accept credit cards for payment (death for a bar or restaurant) seem to signal a circling of the drain. The club in Buffalo closed months ago, and other clubs around the country, notably ones in Kansas City, Detroit and Chicago, have reportedly either closed, plan on closing, or are using local talent in an attempt to trim payrolls and hotel expenses in a valiant effort to stay above water.
I worked last week at the Pittsburgh Funny Bone, my first time at that club and an enjoyable experience, despite a back ailment that left me able to walk and stand for only a short period of time, and then virtually crippled. The crowds were sparse, except for Saturday night, but fun to perform for, and the most interesting experience was speaking with Jeff Schneider, the owner/booker of the club and a man who has been involved in the business for over 25 years. I was able to speak with him on the level of someone who has booked a club himself and dealt with "big name" comics' agencies, and we had interesting stories to share. Jeff has a reputation of being a bit of a beast, but frankly, he's another individual who realizes that standup comedy has run it's course and may be "playing out the string." He spoke passionately about wanting to get into radio, to have a show where he could speak his mind about whatever topics ocurred to him, and he riffed at will about a few things that were engaging, funny and although bordering on crass at times, never objectionable. It is the spirit that standup comedy was born of. Obviously, Jeff has always had this passion or he never would have subjected himself to the rigors of running and managing a club for so many years.
As a career comic, I have decisions to make; I can re-tool my approach to the business and start throwing my rope at corporate events and colleges whose big budgets make them recession-proof, but require strict language requirements. I could go completely underground and pitch myself entirely to fraternal organizations, Moose lodges, Elks, Eagles, Volunteer Fire Departments and others that pepper the landscape like so many mushrooms after a spring rain. I could even re-invent myself as a motivational speaker, using humor to boost optimism in a corporate setting and putting into play the tools that I've learned throughout my life to overcome obstacles and keep an optimistic view.
I know that sounds funny, claiming to be an optimist while playing Chicken Little and proclaiming the end of Standup Comedy, the single thing that has driven me half my life and consumed almost every waking hour in some way, shape or form. But I am optimistic, if only in the way that decrees that I will still be able to do what I love, only I will be required to do it somewhere else. If you are a regular reader, you'll remember that I wrote months ago about an engagement at a volunteer fire department event that went very well. If I'm performing in front of an appreciative audience and doing it for a fair living wage, then I may sacrifice the fame of working a big comedy club in hopes of being seen and getting a shot at a TV spot that may help make me a household name, but the clubs stopped offering those opportunities years ago. If the goal of working the road is only to earn a living, then it will still be possible, only it will take a different kind ofmarketing on our parts as comedians to keep our calendars full.
A huge problem with the clubs today rests with the audiences; they simply don't have the money to spend. The entity booking talent is the one that is rolling the dice; in a public show, a performer is promised X amount of dollars to perform, and the club gambles that they will sell enough tickets, drinks, food items and souvenir paraphenalia to pay the comics, the rent on the building, the utilities, the suppliers and the staff, with a little money left over to call "profit." In a corporate or college setting, the money comes from somewhere else....an entertainment budget in the corporate sense, and student activities fees in the college arena. Neither colleges nor corporate talent bookers are dependent on ticket sales to the general public to make their show "work." They have built-in audiences and no profit requirements. The fraternal organizations have the same setup; they aren't pitching to the general public, which doesn't have any money to spend anyway, but instead collect "dues" from members and apportion the money to their events, whether monthly, semi-annually or annually, as their individual case may be.
So the cry now is to diversify, not put all our eggs in one comedic booker's basket, and look for other things to do. Some clubs will be recession-proof, to be sure, depending on the market and the club's ability to stay relevant in that market. But now they are only going to be a small part of the picture for some of us comics, rather than the bread 'n' butter.
I am at a club this week that seems to be doing well, the Comedy Club On State in Madison, Wisconsin. Gus and Mary have cut out their niche through hard work and perserverance, and last night, they had an almost capacity crowd (on a Thursday!) and one of the open-mic guys taped a chunk of my set which now resides on my MySpace page, which I urge you to go check out at www.myspace.com/rabidralph and feel free to send the link to your friends!
Keepin' it Real,
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
