I did a set last night and wasn’t very good. I’d like to attribute the mediocre set to being intimidated by the fact that the bar was called Naughty Nadz, but it wasn’t that.
I’ve now done a dozen sets or so and while comics tell you know nothing until you’ve done 200 sets I know I’ve learned a few lessons. (I’d love to have a picture in this column, but I have only video of myself and can’t figure out how to get a still.)
Anyways:
1. I can’t drink beer before a set.
A few times now I’ve had a beer before a set, something you’ll often hear isn’t a bad idea because it relaxes you; a LOT of comics will have a beer or a drink before going up. But there is a strong, strong correlation between me having a beer and doing poorly; at gigs where I’ve had a beer I’ve done a mediocre job, and at gigs I did not, I did better.
I’m not saying I was drunk. In fact I didn’t feel the beer at all. But still, it’s a near-perfect correlation; beer equals bad set. Alcohol can affect you without you feeling tipsy. While the data sample isn’t large enough to absolutely prove the connection, it’s big enough to put doubt in my mind, so no more pre-performance drinks.
2. I need to practice more.
I’m surprised I have to say this about myself because when it comes to public speaking I am a practicing fanatic. Prior to my first performance I practiced my set hundreds of times. I’ve always, always done this for any sort of public speech; when I did speeches in high school I would run them, hours and hours at a time. My belief in this regard is that it’s not enough to memorize it; you must KNOW it. You have to go beyond memorization and into innate understanding.
There’s a great scene in “Reservoir Dogs” where (SPOILER ALERT!) the undercover cop is being coached by his handler in how to tell a funny story that will convince the criminals he’s a legitimate criminal. The handler explains, “You can’t just know the story. You have to make it your own.” Asked how, he says “Keep saying it, and saying it, and saying it, and saying it.”
When you see the ease, confidence, and seemingly relaxed and yet limitless command of the stage from the great comics, you’re not seeing a guy who was just born relaxed in front of people; you’re seeing practice that went way beyond just memorizing. That’s practice done to the point that the comic has reached a level of total command of his stories; they’re hers/his and they can now say them with total command. That’s one of the reasons that comedy instructors will tell you to keep working the same 5-10 minutes you start with for years; you must command it.
Well, I’m letting off juuuuuust a bit on the practice. I’m confident in my A set, and pretty confident on my B set, but
A) The B set delivery is still not wholly settled, and
B) The transitions aren’t figured out yet.
What happens last night was I made some transitions I hadn’t done before, got lost, and just threw in the towel and thanked the audience. I knew the bits, but the SET was not rehearsed, and I paid for it. That won’t happen again.
I now have, basically, two sets, which if you list them off as premises go like this:
A SET: (which is in a link in my February column): http://rickthegreat.wordpress.com/2011/02/14/that-moment/
- Wrapping presents
- Cat Shit, Part 1
- Cat Shit, Part 2
- Tropical Fish
- Ants (this part’s optional; it doesn’t yet work sensationally and you can drop it and keep the narrative)
- Cats Again
B SET:
- DQ Money Mart
- Ugly Children
- The Surprise Party
- Awesome Provinces
- Power Tools
No matter what set I start with you can always lead with “Fister-Furbush” if you have the time.
Anyway, the B set’s in development, but it’s often pulled out at small comics-only sets where it’s generally expected that you’ll try new stuff, and pauses and bits that don’t work are well forgiven. It’s also edgier and ruder, which comics like but a general audience might not. Last night I decided at the last minute to try a new mix, starting with B but then adding some A after Awesome Provinces; I blew Awesome Provinces sky high, which is unfortunate because it got laughs, started in on Wrapping Presents, did that, didn’t know where I was on time, and said to hell with it.
That said, I’m not upset; I learned. I learned valuable comedy lessons. At this stage if I want away from any show not knowing something I should do better, I’m a fool. Anyway I was sufficiently funny to earn an invite to a future show.
And you know what? I STILL FREAKING LOVE IT. A new comedy friend of mine repeated a quote that could not be more true; “the worst day of comedy is better than the best day in an office.” So, so true.
