More Than a Woman (Tavares/The Bee Gees)

I have been doing a lot of thinking about back in the day when I was just starting out. Things are different now obviously. At the time I lived on Water Street. In the morning I would jog across the Brooklyn Bridge. The thing about that bridge is that you can always hear the rumble of the trains. As you jog it shakes the bridge a little bit, and there is a part of you that feels the thing will topple into the water killing you. But then you realize this happens every day, and it sort of becomes an ingredient in the whole magic feel of the city you now call home.

One song that always played on my radio with headphones was the song by the Bee Gees or The Tavares, depending on which recording was playing. I found my way to comedy after having my heart broken by a man I was seeing. He was older but had a sweet pad. I wanted love, he wanted the ever eternal sensation of having a much younger girlfriend. To boot, he led me on in a toxic dance for almost the next year. Nevermind, I was going to be strong. My whole life I had been told I was funny. The idea of being a true comedian scare me because you had to be funny. I just wanted to be me. This was scary. Plus if you tanked.....it was like death.

Eventually I bit the bullet and did a bringer show and killed. I did bringers until I exhausted all my friends. As you could imagine many of them lost my phone number and one jokingly claimed she was dead. I was sick of my act too. So I did a lot of open mics and met a lot of characters. Many would probably have been better suited to a therapist's couch than a comedy club open mic but nevermind. We all had a dream. It seemed like it was out of reach to all of us. We were chasing the proverbial dragon, unlike cocaine there was no guaranteed high. However we were willing to risk anything to go after it like a good crack feind.

There was Barry Lawrence, one of my first friends in comedy. An older brother type who was more often than not an angel in disguise, he kept me on track and talked me out of doing my usual stupid stuff. After that was Al Weinstein, a Jewish wannabe comedian who was married for a Puerto Rican woman that he was always on thin ice with. Mostly underemployed, Al chirped about wanting to cheat on his wife. However this was the most cheat free situation ever. Then there was Quinn Harmon, the chain smoking white dude from Texas who said the n word onstage and got away with it. Oh and then there was Rochelle Johnson, the black former beauty queen who was the only person that didn't let Quinn Harmon get away with his crap. In that mix lest we not forget Birdy Douglass, a tough talking hood chick who cussed out a comedy club manager we all hated. And then there was Ella Villa, a Spanish chick who said dirty things and shamelessly slept with headliners for stage time. I cannot forget Ron Santiago, who really used to look down upon my act because he was one of the cool kids. Later he would become a huge supporter. Oh and then there was Don Bosco, a long haired semi-homeless open mic host who used to give me walk on spots on his late show and always had candy laced with something in his pocket. Last but not least, there was Thor Svennson, an overeducated art star who talked down to everyone he met. However, he was the only financially secure one out of the group with his own moving company.

The promoters were even bigger characters. There was Jacob Jankowicz, a gay Jewish booker who sucked the blood out of comedians for his booker showcases. Like a snake he hid at the clubs and looked for fresh blood selling young hopefuls fake dreams. Will Berkley was an old burnt out comic who pressured the young comedians also to do bringer showcases. Quick to critique others, none of us had ever seen the man do anything but bomb. Then there was George King, the eternal middle management of comedy who produced shows but also sucked the life out of the room when he got onstage. Davey McCuen had a messy home life, a dream, and a newborn son. His wife detested his struggling artist attitude, but eventually he dumped her and the kid for a much younger babe. Isaac Greenberg had an open mic where you were graded on professional behavior, and stabbed everyone in the back to operate a room that became a bringer and barker glory hole, only to eventually be fired. Luigi Fiorio booked a dirty room and screamed when he got behind the mic. He dated female comedians who's focus was on getting boob jobs and not writing jokes, but he was always good to me. Last but not least was Terrence Brooks. An urban promoter, he always had big plans and was the master of the smoke screen. A career extra, he often seduced hot girls from his movies into doing his comedy shows. These debuts were a disaster but entertaining to those watching. While a character, he always believed in me too.

It's amazing how many people that I started with are no longer around. To some, standup was too hard. Others got married, had kids, and got a life. They discovered I suppose that there was more to this world than killing or tanking onstage. Many found other ways to express their voice. Some found success writing for television shows, using the standup as a springboard ultimately to another goal. Others found success in acting, using standup for the same thing. Some do voice work and you hear them but don't see them. Others went back to a first love such as music or visual art. One girl became a baker which was random.

I was talking to an old friend of mine who fell out of performing for quite a few years about the people who we used to know that seemingly just disappeared. It's weird. Some were the cats meow and then they were gone. It's also crazy how some awesome things have not just happened for me, but others that I started with. One thing I noticed is that standup is the starting line, but then there are different ways people go. Some continue to do standup. Others write. Some act. Then there are the people who become club owners, producers, and managers. But however, if you finish the race you end up working together which is kind of cool. I am starting to see a little bit of that now. I find myself being called to audition for things because I am recommended by peeps who performed with me once upon a time who now work on the production end. Love and generosity have been coming from peeps who are now club owners too. As for some of my peeps who got Comedy Central Specials, I congratulate them on that, and they give me kudos for my book. When we sit down and talk about the old days, we laugh about all those crazy experiences and the characters we knew. The stage was our school and we grew up together.

I find myself with a lot of those old feelings now as I try to assemble my network friendly set. It's another due I have to pay to get to the next level. I am back to hitting the mics, back with those same characters. While I know what a TV credit and publishing a semi-successful book feels like, I have to do the work. I am back to melting down. I am back to second guessing myself. I am rolling my eyes when they sneak in the drink requirement after robbing me of five dollars. But I am safe here. The public is not ready to see my act. After three days of wanting to kill myself, I went up yesterday. I killed it with my clean set.

Of course, I messaged one of my comedy angels with a crazy message. Then I apologized later. He was a good sport about it. The whole thing feels so mystical and magical, like I am a kid finding her way onstage for the first time with her creepy doll. Sure some of my hard earned dreams have come true, but in that quest it becomes more about your ego and less about the art. The passion is back. Goddamn it, I want to make people laugh.

Luckily I am not stuck on some idiot guy. More to come.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com

Bombing Brilliantly

Yesterday I made the decision to start getting up with the gusto I had when I was twenty years old. While the whole standup thing made me ill and I had such a terrible parting with the home club I had done so much for-don’t even get me started-I didn’t want to be touch and go forever. Sure, I have a chip on my shoulder about how I have been repeatedly shafted for being a woman and for being as different as I am. Yes, I feel the art form is hypocritical, goading the comedian to be groundbreaking but the second you are the doors close on you. Or better yet, once you have ambition and are a woman there must be something wrong with you. My list of issues goes on.

Anyway, on the other hand I enjoy being onstage. I have a day job where I perform. I have performed on the street and subway too and love it. There is something about stepping out there, the lights on my person. I always request the Apollo spotlight like they did in the movie Ray. When the room is dark, I say my opening line and I hear laughter. Sometimes when things are going well I hear, “Wow, this girl is funny.” Of course, then May Wilson comes out and people are amazed that I can make her talk without moving my lips. They have never seen a ventriloquist. Premise, set up, punchline, I am awesome. They love me. I feel on top of the world. This is my safe place. This is the place where everything goes right when everything is wrong. When I am going through a breakup, running from myself, trying to be an adult, trying to get through the death of a best friend from drugs, trying to deal with being broke this is where everything is fine. This is when I am safe.

That is, when it goes well.

I decided yesterday to go to an open mic. It was my friend Hector Luis’s mic. I love Hector because not only is he a good guy, but he is a student of the art form of standup comedy. As part of the prizes at his mic, I have won several comedy DVDs that he so lovingly burned. I won best set once or twice, and the place is always supportive. It’s fun, laid back, and safe. Something told me get up, go, do it. I also told Hector about my book and he was awesome. So was Maritza. As a matter of fact, Hector invited me to promo the book this Saturday on his radio show Rat Dog Radio. More details to follow.

I of course came with my type written set of jokes and was ready to rock and roll.

I didn’t.

Instead it was sort of the opposite. None of my jokes hit. I was like WTF?!?! I wrote these, I spent time on them, where did this come from? All the jokes I had written weren’t working. What had I done wrong? What was wrong with me?

Immediately I left the stage feeling like I had to fight for all the laughs I got. Then it hit me in a way. Maybe I had lost my ability to make people laugh. I had written my book. Yes, it was funny, but I had lost my stride onstage. Last two weeks, I had been up a few times and did well, but my jokes were tried and true and had worked for sometime. I was also getting sick of them and wanted to work on my new puppet Don Juan.

Still, maybe I had lost my ability to make people laugh. That paranoia shook me.

After I ran out of the mic to get some dinner before meeting my friends on my friend Tony’s yacht, I told myself maybe I had made a mistake. I should just stick to author land. I had been inconsistent as a comedian. When I hit I really hit, and sometimes handled some tough crowds very well when others were eaten alive. On the other hand, at times I should have just held the damn torch I always just dropped it and burnt down the village. It was an either/or situation. At this point I felt things should be better, I should be more crisp when I hit the stage, right?

Then I remembered the immortal words of Chis Murphy, a comedian and comedy coach I have had the pleasure of crossing paths with several times. He once told me that even if you tank, you still got up which means you won. Then it hit me that I still won. I had written new material and didn’t do the same A stuff like some people do at mics. Yes, there are people who do A material at mics. Sometimes it is to workshop a set for a showcase, but sometimes it is because they just aren’t writing anything else. I had put new material on it’s feet and some of the jokes have a future, some need to be shelved for a little bit. Some need to be put in a circular file never to be heard from again. I also have to relax a little onstage, which means getting rid of that diva chip on my shoulder. I need to have fun again with new material, and know that everything happens in it’s own time and this means not always knowing where the punchline comes from right away.

I have had some awesome sets in my life. I have done a lot in my short time on this planet. None of that is going to go away. Yes, I tanked like hell but I took the risks. I also didn’t sit on my ass and wonder what the next move was. For months I have been agonizing over what next. I wrote a damn book that is coming out in a month, I have had songs that charted on the internet, I was a talking head and left that job. I have been wondering, what’s next. The answer is and has always been to get onstage. In a career where there is so much one cannot control the only thing you can control is your output and quality of the work you produce. Sure, if you are funny you can still be denied, but on the other hand it does make life easier.

Yes, I have an attitude about all I have done and the whole comedy thing and again, wont get into it here. I will be the first to cop up to the fact I am a drama queen and a diva. But perhaps it’s time to scrap that, eat humble pie, and just keep getting up no matter how many times I get knocked down. The crazy part is, I want to do it again, and again, and again. I don’t even care if I tank. I just want to do it again.

So to bombing, and doing so brilliantly.

Nagasaki Mutherfucker.

Love,

April

PS. Listen to Rat Dog Radio this Saturday. More details to follow