Gig Report Saturday 6th April 2013
99 Club - Islington
Before Gig
This is my last gig of the evening. I have done several gigs tonight and zig zagged across town in my car. Each gig has pushed me further into the zone. My performance levels and focus have gone up with each one. And I feel I want to be tested now. Sometimes I may wish for a nice easy gig to ease me into the end of my working week. Not tonight. I am hoping for a rowdy gig to top the evening off. I feel like I want to be put through my paces a bit. I want this gig to be the Jesus, to the other gigs mere John The Baptists. I have known this gig to be rowdy before. Surely it can be rowdy tonight? Come on great British public, don’t let me down.
I arrive. There is the pungent odour of affability in the air. The audience absolutely seethe with good will. There is simmering good energy all over the room. I am not happy. How are this lot going to put me through my paces? “Are they problematic?” I ask the other acts hopefully. “God no, they’re lovely” they reply. I am crushed but I am also a professional. Somehow I carry on, masking my disappointment well. No one must ever know. “Good. Nice one to end the evening off.” I lie my head off.
Luke Benson does a tremendous set, comprising entirely of material I have never seen him do before. It is a brilliant. There is an interval. Maybe the audience will go berserk in the the break? Drink too much, reach a tipping point and go mental? One can only hope.
The next section commences. There is some back chat from three guys sitting at the front now. Good, this is better. This could be it. Are we on? We are not on. The compere puts them in their place. They are back to being cordial. The mutiny that never was, ends. Maybe they will flare up when I get to the stage?
During
I usually take the microphone out of the stand and walk about the stage. Tonight I keep it in the mic stand and remain stationary. The opening goes well. It seems to hook in all the parts of the audience. It affords little ad-libs and asides. I am pleased with the start.
The heroin stuff goes well and into the drinking material. It is going a little too well to be honest, this audience are a push over. It is a little galling when you can remember standing on this exact stage, been given a hard time and having to work. And now I am cruising down hill with a tail wind. How am I going to ascend to new artistic heights with the audience making it too easy? Make me work a little for God sake!
And then I spot him. Well I spot her first. There is a woman in the audience who looks like an ex-girlfriend but with different hair and eyes. Next to her is a man and he is not enjoying it. And he is notably not enjoying it. I thought I had the whole audience on board, a hundred of them or so, but this guy is not amused. No, not amused suggests a neutral state, an absence of amusement. This is more negative than that. A proactive not enjoying it. His face is heading towards the floor. He has these saggy jowls that are sucking the energy out of the room. I think his face is actually canceling out some of the laughter from other people. His unhappiness has a force field of about 1 metre in diameter, it is the black hole of comedy in there. He is the master of the black hole of comedy. Jokes cannot exist in the clack hole of comedy. I become obsessed with making him laugh. For me everything hinges on this one guy. I try everything with him. One joke, then another, then another. Nothing. Ad libs nothing. Old material nothing. New material nothing. Maybe I should banter with him. He looks like a no banter zone.
This guy is a challenge but not the kind I was looking for. I don’t like this kind of challenge. I wanted another challenge.
I ignore him. He an aberration. He’s a one off. I concentrate on the other 99. They’re enjoying, he isn’t. Leave him. Everyone doesn’t need to enjoy my humour. Yes they do. I want him too. I want the complete set. Try this then. New section on the National Lottery. Still nothing from him. Now he has crossed his arms. I don’t believe this. It’s like the shutters have come down on him now. Alright then have it your way. I start directing punchlines straight at him, lobbing them at his forehead. Lets see you crack. There are no prizes for being a deadpan audience member. Was that something? Was that the beginnings of a grin? A slight twitch in the outer mouth area? I think he was just breathing. There is this titanic struggle going on between me and the guy. I am desperately trying to make him laugh he is desperately trying not to laugh. We both know what is happening. No one else knows it is happening. The rest of the audience are oblivious to the battle that’s going. All the audience can see are the jokes and the routines and the laughs, poor innocent souls. There are moments when I duck out of this dog fight to check the rest of the audience are with me and then back to the job in hand- making sure this one maverick gets of board. He doesn’t get on board.
I usually have an impeccable sense of internal clock but tonight the show manager has to flash a light at me to tell me I am over running. This one guy has distracted me. I have had to perform two gigs. One to the audience, the other to him. I wrap the thing up. 99 people enjoying the show blissfully unaware of what has been actually happening, a very bad gig to one person.
After Gig
What was his problem?
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