Street Life! - Stand-up and be counted
Andrew P Street would do anything for Sydney... This month: trying out as a stand-up comedian
I was born to be a comedian.
To be fair, this assertion has only ever been made during my school years, and only by teachers immediately before making me stand in the corner or go see the principal for being a disruptive influence. Nonetheless, I'd always taken their approbation to mean that I was a gifted raconteur and jokesmith and that it was only a matter of time before I took to the stage.
And yet, despite this ringing endorsement from the South Australian school system, I'd never attempted to tread the boards as a stand up. This was in spite of the fact that I could be politely described as "confident" or, less kindly but more accurately, "a goddamned loudmouth attention seeker looking for a solid punch in the jaw". So when the challenge was put to me to give this comedy lark a try in the service of Time Out, I leapt at the chance.
After all, our city has a noble tradition of great stand-up. Melbourne has long claimed to be the home of comedy, but the likes of Austen Tayshus, George Smilovic, Rodney Rude, Kitty Flanagan, Wil Anderson, Adam Hills and Julia Morris cut their teeth on the Sydney scene, which gives us a pretty damn impressive pedigree. What's more, Improv Australia was founded here. And the city has plenty of opportunities for first timers to get up on a stage and try out their stuff. So hell, how hard could it be? An email to the good folks at Mic in Hand proved that it was exceptionally easy, and thus was my date with destiny booked.
The preparation
Of course, it's one thing to be a witty conversationalist – it's another to be able to get up on a stage and reel out the gags. For one thing, I'd never actually tried to write "jokes" before. For another, most of the comedians I particularly admire had very definite personae. Should I adopt the angry, socio-political criticism of Bill Hicks, David Cross or Lewis Black? The taut one-liners of Mitch Hedberg or Steven Wright? The sharp anecdotal humour of Ed Byrne, Dylan Moran or Patton Oswalt, or the personality-drenched near-performance-art of Maria Bamford? The options were limited only by my imagination, my talent and my sobriety, and after a comprehensive assessment of each the old adage "write what you know" came to mind. Thus I turned my attention to the rich details my own life and, once the sobbing subsided, I started work on what would hopefully become my five minutes of comedy gold.
Running the finished routine past a couple of hard-to-impress colleagues gave me some very valuable advice: edit the jokes down, get to the punchlines earlier, don't ramble, and replace some of the existing bits with jokes that were, as they described them "actually funny".
For example:
Me: Newtown is the most misleadingly named suburb in Sydney. I've lived there six months and haven't seen a single newt.
Them: [stonefaced silence]
A night of frantic rewriting later, I had something that was, if not actually funny, was at least a different type of unfunny. My confidence was at an all-time high!
The night
It wasn't hard to pick out the other open-mic folks: they were the ones nervously pacing or flipping through their notes, which momentarily made me think that perhaps my pre-stage preparation technique – getting and subsequently drinking a beer – was perhaps not as comprehensive as it should have been. Nor did I feel nervous so much as impatient, so if hubris was to come crashing down upon me, I was giving it plenty of altitude.
Before too long, my name was called: "And now welcome to the stage [fumbles with piece of scrawled paper] Andrew D Steel!"
Taking the mic, I delivered my first ever on stage joke:
"A giraffe walks into a bar and says: ‘Do you serve longnecks?'"
And people laughed. They laughed a lot.
For the next five minutes I stood on stage, under lights, making people laugh – and it felt fantastic. I've been in bands and relished getting a good reaction, but this time I couldn't put it down to the rest of the band being in great form, or there being a sweet front-of-house mix, or the songs that we'd written together being exceptional: the only person was me, saying things I'd written, and if it sucked I had no one to hide behind.
Conclusion
So, will I do it again? God yes: I can already feel the rest of my life being one long doomed attempt to recapture that intense and unrepeatable high. But oh, friends, for those few wonderful minutes...
DO IT YOURSELF!
Mic in Hand
The Friend in Hand's weekly open mic is one of Sydney's most popular rooms, so get in early for a handful of new performers and a high-quality MC and headline act every week.
Thu 7.30pm, $10.
Roxbury Hotel
Quest for the Best is reportedly the nation's richest open mic competition and attracts an impressive line-up, from absolute beginners to local up-and-comers. Each night also features an established MC and a headline act. The audience votes at the end of the night, so bring your pals along.
Wed 8pm, $10 to $15.
Laugh Garage
Tuesday and Wednesday nights are for up-and-comers, and they regularly run classes for those wishing to learn the comedic arts – check their website for details.
Tue & Wed 8.30pm, $10.
Star Bar
Comedy Court puts the voting in the hands of the audience, so you'd better be good. Every Friday night there's a headliner, an MC and a bunch of newcomers. Again, fortune favours the popular.
Fri 8pm, $10 to $15.
Andrew P Street next does The Comedy at the Local Taphouse on Sun 11 Oct
