Now, y’all know me as your faithful Musical Schizo, but if you zoomed back to when I was 15 years old, and things went slightly different, I might have ended up the Comedy Schizo. I’m sure in the multiverse there’s an alternate 2020 where I am a professional (or at least semi-professional) comedian or comedic actor.

I am a comedy NUT.

And the seeds of that were planted by my parents and their families. Funny always was HUGE in our house. I remember watching the variety shows of the 1970s. Trying to convince my dad to let me stay up to watch funny people on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, or if I was REALLY lucky, to stay up on Saturday Night to catch my favorite show, Saturday Night Live. I can remember sitting on the stairs out of sight (if you are familiar with a split-level layout, with the stairs going up and coming down, you can see how that’s possible), listening to what they were watching, trying to be invisible, and almost always getting busted when I or one of my little brothers laughed at something.

So my earliest memories of laughing at things are Carol Burnett, Johnny Carson, SNL, Looney Tunes cartoons, Tom & Jerry, The Honeymooners, and various re-run sitcoms. This plus the fact that my family was always looking for the next funny thing really made me value what being funny brought to my tribe. Every chance I could I’d find funny things, because I loved laughing and I loved making people laugh. I’d try funny voices and mimic people. One of my earliest obsessions was a (very corny) Rich Little special from HBO in the mid-80s – Night of 42 Stars. I learned how to do the voices of all 42 stars. And I loved it. But there was a lot that really appealed to me in comedy, and I think a lot of it relates to a major thing I love in music. Surprises.

The key to a good joke is surprise. Whether it be a clever and not-obvious way of saying something, or tricking people to expect one resolution and hit them with another, the biggest laughs come from people hearing something completely unexpected. And for me, when I listen to music, there’s nothing that brings me greater joy than some interesting melodic, harmonic, or rhythmic turn, or an accent or timbre that I didn’t expect. Part of the reason I have such a broad appreciation for music is that those surprises abound. Even if you know the fundamentals and you think things are just obvious and pat, inspiring music will take those expected turns and then throw you something cool in that context. It’s done in all genres. And I love it.

There are many factors that easily could have turned me into The Comedy Schizo, but for some reason I never developed the confidence to actually go there. I’ll delve into the psychology of that later. But first, the background.

A big piece of The Comedy Schizo puzzle was film. Or really, movies. Since these weren’t exactly “fancy” and people don’t respect great comedy they do other sorts of films. Growing up in the renaissance of comedy movies from the mid 70s through the late 80s or so, the films of that era really formed a foundation for what I find funny. Trading Places, Caddyshack, Animal House, Ghostbusters, 48 Hours, Beverly Hills Cop, Police Academy (not so much its sequels), Airplane, The Bad News Bears, Slap Shot, all the John Hughes movies, all the Mel Brooks movies, Hollywood Shuffle, I’m Gonna Git You Sucka, Coming To America…it was all huge for me. Later it was Bill & Ted and Wayne’s World, which brought three things important to me together – friendship, music, and comedy. So there was a lot, and I’m just scratching the surface, because I even loved a lot of the crap that came from the 80s movie industry (yes, stuff like Short Circuit, Mannequin, etc.). And most of it holds up for me even still.

TV was massive, too. I also was obsessed with Saturday Night Live, especially when I got to be about 12 or 13 and got to stay up late on Saturday nights regularly. Those people were my heroes. I would catch the earlier versions of the show here and there, so I was very familiar with all the casts from about 1981-1984, with Eddie Murphy, Joe Piscopo, and those people, through that weird and awesome season in 1984-1985 when Christopher Guest, Martin Short, and Billy Crystal were on the show, but I think I watched it every week starting in about 1986. That’s where I was introduced to the brilliance of all the multi-talented people on the show – people who can do amazing characters, impersonations, and sometimes even sing! And I loved watching sitcoms. But more than film or any TV stuff, there was one type of comedy that has always been my favorite.

You see, I love stand-up comedy more than anyone I’ve ever met. I grew up during the stand-up comedy boom of the 80s, which coincided with the rise of cable, so stand-up on TV was everywhere, especially on basic cable. Of course I used to love seeing stand-ups on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. I loved all the older comedians like Don Rickles, Jonathan Winters, John Byner, and the aforementioned Rich Little. Their little bits always made me amazed that a guy could just stand up there and make people laugh. I probably liked that they were the center of attention, too.

My dad had a George Carlin album, FM & AM, that was in with all the records I stole from him when his turntable broke (it was me or one of my three brothers who did it – I can’t remember). I got a really awesome Magnavox stereo with a turntable, two tape decks, and a CD player for my birthday/Christmas in 1988 or so. Anyway – about the Carlin album. I’d seen George on the Tonight Show, and thought he was funny. My parents always talked about his “a place for my stuff” bit, and some of his older things they’d mention here and there. I found this record and was hooked. I listened to it over and over. Memorized it. I can still recite “The Hair Piece” to this day. I shared it with all my friends. A few of them got it. Most didn’t. But that was okay. It was MINE. And Carlin became an obsession. Especially after the release of his 1990 special “Doin’ It Again”, and for me, his greatest special ever, 1992’s “Jammin’ In New York”. Here we had a guy who grew up in an Irish-American Roman Catholic family in New York. He would talk in all the voices of my childhood, doing characters and weaving them into hilarious stories. The more I learned about him, the more I heard his comedy, the more the world made sense to the way I already felt about it. It desperately made me want to do the same sort of thing.

And with all the stand-up I watched, more and more comedians with different viewpoints made a huge impression on me. I always felt like my brain worked a little different from most people, and the more comedians I saw “behind the scenes” talking about comedy, the more I realized that my brain was more like the dark, sensitive brains of my favorite comedians. There’s a fundamental ability to completely step back from the emotions and humanity of a situation and see that situation in the most raw and real way to find the root of our interactions and, in many ways, the fundamental bullshit of basically everything we do. Our motivations, our manipulations, our posturing. Having what I call “comedy brain” is a tough way to see the world, but it is a wonderful level of “seeing the Matrix” if you care about living honestly. And the best comedians value that authenticity and honesty and it comes through their comedy. I felt that way. Strip away the bullshit. So finding stand-up really made me feel like I wasn’t such a weirdo for thinking about things the way I do.

So what happened? How did I not end up becoming “The Comedy Schizo” or whatever? Well, I’m probably not that funny, actually. I never felt like I was as funny as other people in my family. But even without that, I’m too much of a chicken to actually let go of the posturing and manipulation that is inherent in people like me who desperately need people to like them. I don’t really have a desire to offend people. I always want people to leave an interaction with me happier than when they arrived. I want those personal five-star reviews! Comedy doesn’t really work with that sort of mindset.

A lot of comedians end up doing stand-up because they desperately want attention – and perhaps adulation. But more often they just NEED to say what they’re going to say, and it has to be in front of strangers. If the audience loves it, great, bonus! But that’s not the point, really, for a lot of them. I don’t think my desire to be the center of attention ever trumped my desire to hide. I’m a weird person in that I feel like I’m inherently an introvert, in that being social and being around other people drains me, but I’m actually very good at pretending to be an extrovert. I attribute that to being the new kid so many times that I learned those coping strategies and techniques to gain people’s favor.

Another big reason I think it never happened is that I put comedy on a pedestal. I love it TOO much. I don’t want to get up there and do it terribly because I respect the craft and the art form. I used to be convinced this was the main reason why I wouldn’t do it. But I’ve come to the realization that this was just a rationalization and a defense mechanism. I know it takes about 10 years of solid stage time to actually get good at it, so I know not to expect anything when you start. I’m just scared.

An important thing to also know about me is that I don’t really have stage fright. At all. In fact, I feel very comfortable on a stage. Especially when standing there holding an instrument. So my fear isn’t even some kind of stage fright.

I think it all comes down to this: I got good at music, and more of my friends were music people, so I did music more. If I had gotten into improv or there was an open mic night in my little college town that was heavy on the comedy, life might have turned out differently.

I’m pretty happy that music ended up being number one for me. It definitely is more lucrative than stand-up if you’re not making stand-up your primary focus.

But I will always love comedy. And someday I’ll get my butt up on a stage and tell some jokes or some stories. Or do some voices. Or all of it. Maybe I’ll even sing some funny songs and put the two together.

Probably not the “guitar comedy”, though. That’s kind of hacky.

Thanks for taking this comedy journey with me. I hope you’re all safe, happy, and healthy, and even if things are rough you find ways to laugh. It truly is the best way to deal with the darkness of human existence.

TMS

P.S. Black lives matter, wash your hands, wear your mask, physically distance, and for fuck’s sake, vote for sanity if you’re American and eligible.