Spring rebirth, summer's promise

And in the dead silence of the night, as if from the grave, a voice whispers hoarsely but resolutely:

"...cooomedyyyyy..."

Fertilized by the carcasses of past, green shoots rise anew from the once-fallow earth of Valley Springs. And between its leaves, the promise of juicy, hilarious fruit.

More news to come!

Dude, where's my room?

Man, not long ago, I used to book this nifty little room. Simple stage, long, slim layout - not a bad place at all. We did several quality comedy gigs there, work that we could be proud of.

For a variety of reasons, for which no specific fault can fairly be assigned, I'm not with this venue any longer. It was sad to have lost out on a budding, regular comedy room, but the most troubling thing about the whole scenario is the way I found out they were moving on with comedy, but not with me: I saw a regional comic's Facebook status update that s/he'd be working in my backyard, at a very familiar location.

Uh.

Huh.

It's just that... it would have been nice to have been told, at some point ahead of time. Nobody owed me anything (although there was a pact of exclusivity early on, but even at that... it's complicated), but it would have been nice. Instead, it was like catching your girl making out with another guy, and having her tell you: "By the way, it's not working out." Suffice it to say, it was a little awkward.

Here's the good part: I've been doing awkward my whole, entire life. I eat, sleep and breathe awkward. The "A" in my DNA stands for Awkward. When I eat AlphaBits, all the letters line up to spell "AWKWARD." My blood type is "A," for... well, you get the idea. If I can't wade through a little awkwardness, then I might as well hang it up.

Whilst I mulled just how childishly to react to this turn of events, I got some very serendipitous advice from a hallowed corner of my social network: "Go. See the show. Smile, be happy and bear no grudge. For one thing, it's the right thing to do. And if anyone's got reason to be uncomfortable, playing it cool will drive them mad," was the gist of it. I may or may not have reached this level of wisdom on my own, but not so purely or quickly, I'm certain of it. So, I am definitely grateful for the nod in the right direction.

And so I did. Were there people there who wouldn't make eye contact? Sure. Did it trouble me? Hell no. I bought my ticket, ordered a drink and just had a ball. I chatted up the locals at my table. I watched the parallel comedies going on about me, on-stage and off. Afterwards, I had brief, pleasant conversations with the noteables in attendance, and made a point to make cheerful hellos to those who for some reason wouldn't look at me for the entire evening. It was positively joyous.

And from the minute I got there I saw the folly in the reactionary attitude I could have taken when I first learned that something was up: If had walked in there with a sour puss and a chip on my shoulder, I'd have been pissing in my own well. There was almost no reason anyway to cop an attitude, except for the simple, illusory pretense that I had reason to be put out. But if I had, I'd have alienated everyone there, rather than doing what I did do: enjoy myself and possibly, gently, allow anyone with ruffled feathers to be the source of their own ruffledness.

The moral of the story: don't be a dick.

Here's to the High Road: who knew the view would be so lush, and the ride so smooth?

A Booker's Plea

Dear Comedian,

I perform comedy, but I've also put together several shows by now. I'm by no means an expert, but I know this: there are a few things a comedian should have handy that really help me out in my role as a comedy booker.

First, the thing I find most useful is video. After a few shows, I've already booked all the guys in my region whom I've seen and thought were hilarious. Obviously, live stand up comedy has a reverse-shelf life: once the local crowd has seen your act, it's no good until you've either got new material or have been gone long enough for the same act to feel new again. Either way, I can't re-book the people I've seen myself right away, so it's time to hunt for new talent, and I can't go see everybody in my state who thinks they can headline.

The next best thing to seeing you live is online video. I can get a taste of your style and level of experience from video better than anywhere else I know of. Online video allows me to at least ensure that I'm not booking a rodeo clown for an elegant night of entertainment, or vice-versa. If you know of a better way to get an advance preview, I'm all ears.

The next best thing after that is a recommendation from your peers. I've heard it said that comics get more work through other comics than from anywhere else, and it rings true. While I try not to book sight unseen on someone else's word, a quality headliner's word will guarantee you a first look in my book.

But what I really sat down to write is that once you've got the gig, there are several things that are crucial to my job (and my job is to hook you up with your job).

Headshot: once you're on the ticket, you have to understand that it's the venue's/promoter's job to sell you, to convince the public that you are the shit, and worth laying down a few bucks to see. A good headshot helps a lot, and even a bad photo is leagues better than nothing at all. I've stared at a few posters in my graphic editing application, wishing I had something to put in the area marked: "performer." In this age of cheap digital cameras and free Wi-Fi and social networking, there's no excuse not to have a headshot.

Bio and credits: again, somebody has to sell you. Sell your performance, your buzz, your comedy mojo, and turn it into tickets and two-drink minimums. An appealing, well-written bio gives potential ticket-buyers an idea of what to look forward to, and credits give them reason to believe you're legit ("He must be good, he's been on Comedy Central..."). Places you've performed, the names you've shared the stage with, placement in comedy competitions, all of these change the gray area in somebody's head into an expectation of quality and a fun night out.

I've spoken to a lot of comics and read a lot of online laments that the comic's job is solely to be funny. Period, end of sentence. I wish that were the case, and that seats would just magically fill up at every show, but they just don't. People need some persuadin'. And it's not like anyone's asking you to hand out 500 flyers or bring everybody you know. Just get your shit together and make yourself minimally marketable.

I spoke to a comedy veteran in the area a while back, a very respectable name in this area. After I'd booked him for the show, I asked him about photo, bio, credits. I picked up a very tepid vibe when he mumbled that it's "on the website." (At least he had one, and thank Christ for that, but that's a rant for another day). With a suspicious dread, I visited his website. While he had two headshots, one was inappropriate for the venue, and the other looked like a post office/FBI mugshot, and was the size of a postage stamp. When it comes to graphics, size matters, baby! Headliners often have to be blown up to twice the size of the feature act to visually explain their prominence, and I can't do that with a digital photo the size of a driver's license photo.

His bio was helpful, but painfully bland and non-specific. It mentioned several comedy competitions, but none by name. If I were to sum it up, it would be that "Joe Headliner was born in the Bay Area, and is real funny." Nothing about his style, nothing about who he'd performed with, no reason to care. And this is a genuinely funny guy, who I've seen and liked and who has been in the business for decades! I know he's got more in the tank than this!

Finally, some contact information; an e-mail address (checked daily) and a cell phone number are a must. If something happens at the last minute or you're running late, I would cut the throats of my own children to be able to contact you immediately. Beyond that, other reasons to stay in touch are self-evident. A business card is fantastic: it is handy and portable and shows that you have enough commitment to your craft to invest twenty bucks in your own career.

A comic's job is to be funny, I get it. But you can't just leave it at that. Most of the comics I know have booked their own shows and have run into these frustrations. Some of them have retreated back from the business end of showbiz because of it. It's no fun.

There comes a point when all players in this game have to take a somewhat holistic approach, and acknowledge that everybody has to make out, or nobody makes out, long-term. If we don't sell tickets and drinks, comedy can't happen. If you're reading this and don't have a headshot, a bio, business cards or a website, contact me, for God's sake. I've got some experience with attaining these things (on the cheap, if necessary), and would be thrilled to help you equip yourselves with these basic tools.

And besides, every comic knows that the fuller a room is, the better the show will be. Let's work together and put together a killer night of comedy.

Love,

Tom Bickle
HumorMeComedy.com

Video of my work, sold out show at La Contenta

Had a good show in February in Valley Springs. I finally got around to exporting a video clip and posting it to YouTube. Here it is:

Outta the park!

Not much time to write tonight, but I had to jot this down:

I produced and emceed a great show tonight, with Patrick Jaye doing a great job featuring, and Del Van Dyke headlining like a master. I could brag on either of them 'til the cows come home, but I'm too tired to do them justice, so I'll just toot my own horn:

My set was well-received. I brought some good energy, had my material down, concentrated on being myself (like Mike "The Saint" Betancourt told me), and drove that shit home like nobody's business. I admit I'm proud that I acquitted myself well in front of some seasoned pro's.

Crowd's happy, comics are happy, venue is happy. Rock on, let's do this again soon!

Good night!

Comedy Night in Lathrop, 12/19/09

I was fortunate to perform at a show last week in Lathrop, a show put on by the young entrepreneur Evin Smith. I was in good company, performing with Isaac Ames, Roberto Arreola, Nate Lewis, Brian Uecker, Josh Hollinger and my brother-in-geography, Matthew Zeller.

I had a great set, got a lot of laughs and gained some of that valuable stage time. I had a lot of highs, but enough lows to help weed out the weaker material from a few bits, which was great. This must be what I'm meant to do; I even enjoy the rough parts!

What was great about this show was that everybody brought something to the party: for examples:

• Isaac had some fearless crowd work, busting on a table of loud talkers
• Roberto brought clever new material
• Josh exploded on stage with a Jonas Bros. bit that I didn't see coming
• Matthew had thoughtful, new material written just for the show and
  
• Nate closed the show, headlining for the first time!

The show offered a "best street joke" slot, but the audience was too shy to take advantage of it, leaving a few spirited comics to take whacks at the pinata.

I'm looking forward to doing it again.

La Contenta Show 11/21 - lighting lesson learned

One thing I learned producing the show last Saturday: lighting is important! I already knew that, but the lesson was certainly accentuated.

I'd arranged to set up lighting equipment package that was advertised by satisfied, independent customer reviews as being ample for lighting a "small or medium-sized stage." Confident in my purchase, I ordered the package.

Pressed for time, we set it up the night before, and we were concerned about the tripod stand it used to elevate the actual lights, for at least three reasons:

• The stand partially obstructed the view
• It presented a potential tripping hazard
• It displaced at least a few audience seats

We made an executive decision to distribute the lights on the floor, at the foot of the stage. This put a lot of light on the performers, but from a low angle. The downside was that it cast light in an eery, ghost-stories-by-the-campfire angle. The upside was that the view was unobstructed, tripping hazards were minimized and no seats were disturbed.

I'd quietly urged my fellow performers to stand as far back from the front of the stage in an effort to let as much light to our faces as possible. Even though it was my idea, I admit that I found it difficult to do so and still feel comfortable with delivery.

One final problem was that the channel-based lighting controller I purchased only lights one light at a time, out of a bank of four. This was a surprise, especially since customer reviews raved about how this package was plenty for small stages.

Retrospect, unanswered questions:

• Is there a better way to vet or research customer reviews?
• I wonder is we could have dedicated a small table to the bank of lights. This would have displaced a few customers, but the lighting quality may have been greatly improved by raising it a few feet from the floor. Nobody wanted to sit front and center, anyway!

Lessons learned:

• do dry runs farther in advance (although it was almost impossible in this case for reasons unimportant to this examination)
• mount lighting on a ceiling or floor mounting that allows for minimum intrusion into usable spaces
• consult a lighting professional

Live and learn, and we'll improve with every effort!

Blowout at La Contenta in Valley Springs

Last night's show was a total gas. I learned a lot, and although I can't wait to reflect upon it, I must put it off a little while longer. Lots to digest.

But a friggin great show. Thanks to Jason Resler, Joe Rivera and Roberto Arreola for making it one Hell of an evening!

Chip's Comedy Club Grand Opening

Chip's Comedy Club had its grand opening last night, and I was glad to be in the audience. Joe Rivera's latest effort included Joe, Nate Lewis, Josh Hollinger and was headlined by Patrick Jaye.

Joe had live music to back up the comedians. The drummer threatened to steal the spotlight, using nothing but devastatingly timed rimshots to slyly pan a flat punchline here and there.

I did my part by coming to laugh and soaking up a small fortune in booze. Nine bucks for a shot of Scotch? I hope somebody appreciates that I took one for the team - that's me, generous to a fault.

I made a late decision not to perform, even though I think Joe would have made room for me in the lineup if I'd asked. It's been a long week, and Daddy has been too busy to rehearse properly. Plus, I wanted the opportunity to just relax enjoy some good, local comedy. I don't get enough of that. Before the show ended though, I realized I'd made a mistake, and should have taken the opportunity to "work." Next time, I'll have my excrement assembled (shit together) better, and not miss another chance.

Interestingly, there was a late audible on the headliner play: While Anthony K was slated to round out the show, Patrick Jaye brought it home instead, and in fine fashion.

My mind is blown

I am hurtling through new territory and recklessly kicking through areas marked off with yellow-and-black tape, but instead of "WET PAINT" they're marked: "COMFORT ZONE." Flashes of light, tunnels psychedelic kaleidoscope colors whip by and I hum with new energy as I drool just a little with either anticipation or rapt sensory overload or both, I can't really tell.

More coming soon. Watch this space.

209 Comedy Competition

Rookies, a bar in Manteca, my old hometown, is hosting a comedy competition this Saturday night, and I'll be doing five minutes. I haven't performed in months, so I'm giddy with anticipation and trepidation. I pray to all the gods I believe in that it will go well.

You should come, and laugh.