Mandee Johnson: “Punk rock” is a term people keep using to describe independent comedy.

Dave Anthony: It’s interesting, you know. It’s do-it-yourself, and that’s what punk rock was. Do your own shows; do them in living rooms and all over the place. It’s because all these comedians were carved out and left out of the mainstream and all of that bullshit, and they didn’t have a place to go, so they started doing it. And then guys like you saw that, and you were like, “Oh! I can help out with this!”

MJ: We just wanted to be a part of this community, and we wanted to put together a show that we thought was cool, put on comedians that we’d like, and share with other people. It was that simple.

DA: In the beginning of alternative shows, that’s just not what it was like at all. In the beginning of alternative rooms, it started with people who were not alternative booking it. It started with people from the business, from networks, booking alternative comedy rooms. So while the comedy was alternative, you’d normally see the politics were almost worse than comedy clubs. It’s gotten away from that.

The clubs are always going to be good for whoever they’re good for, and I’m glad they exist for a larger structural reason. Comedy needs both to thrive. It needs the formal system to be taken seriously, and it needs the punky energy of independently produced comedy to keep being pushed forward and to evolve.

—Monika Scott (comedian + producer)

MJ: At our shows, you’ve always taken a moment to thank the audience for coming out and acknowledged that it’s an important place for people who create art.

Reggie Watts: It is. It is because it’s unlike the club scene. It’s not really . . . it runs more on the basis of “We all love comedy.” The lineup loves comedy; the promoters love comedy. It’s a tool for promotion, and you can use it to gain experience, community. If you’re running a show, you can make money off of it, you can sustain yourself, you can put it back into the show. But, mostly, the sentiment of it is just purely for the love of comedy and performance, as opposed to a more traditional comedy club, which, certainly, of course, they don’t exist without the love of comedy, but it’s a little bit more tied directly into the industry.

MJ: Yeah, I think that’s an interesting part about the independent scene. It’s more creative in that way, more supportive, more community based in so many aspects.

RW: Yeah, of course it is. It’s an opportunity to see things that you wouldn’t normally. Weird shit that you’re not going to see anywhere else. It’s also a place where it’s a blurry point between performance art, experimental theater, and comedy. That’s what I like about it.

Ryan Sickler: I think it’s funny it’s got this name “independent comedy,” which I feel like almost does it a disservice in a way because it’s . . . I feel like independent comedy is more mainstream than a lot of the clubs. I know it means independently run, but also that, to me, just in my mind, sounds small, and it’s not.

I feel like most of the independent shows is where you’re finding the real talent for these TV shows, the diverse comedians. They’re getting their starts and thriving in these independent scenes. Some of them don’t even get up onstage at these clubs. You’ll see them in sitcoms, you’ll see them in movies, you’ll see them everywhere. I think it’s important; it’s imperative.

 

Asif Ali: The independent scene has been so good and nice to me. For example, Dave Ross. The best. The nicest guy in the world. I would do his open mic, and then he was so nice. Every once in a while, he would put me on his show. And he probably doesn’t think that’s a big deal. But it was a huge deal. Huge deal for me, right? I’d put so much thought into my set and making sure that I crushed all the time and making sure that even when I did his open mic, I would always be writing new shit. I just wanted to have that muscle to be able to do that all the time.

MJ: It’s funny: Hasan specifically said that Dave Ross was a huge deal in his—

AA: He doesn’t realize it. He’s an anchor in the same way you and Joel are . . . Shows are host based. He kept it so fun. Your guys’ shows, it all felt kind of punk in a way. We’re doing weird, interesting shit. I’ve always loved that whole DIY.

MJ: What do you think the importance of independent comedy is?

AA: As a comedy fan, you don’t realize. If you’re just watching shows, you don’t realize how important it is, because especially in places like L.A., if you go off the number of clubs in L.A., there’s three . . . on a given night, that’s maybe ten shows happening. The number of comedians that are here and the amount of time and development it takes to become good and fully figure out what the fuck you’re doing—which, by the way, takes forever; you never really figure that out—for that to be enough time for people to grow and get good, there would only have to be a couple hundred comedians. And, so, the importance of the indie scene is it gives them the ability to do shows and figure out what they’re doing and build a community and not feel like they’re constantly on the outside looking in.

It gives comedians all these really fun shows that people you know are running. You can do those shows and build on that. It’s really important to have this thing you’re working toward. Then you do it, and there’s actually a great audience, and you feel valued. But, more importantly, it gives you a sense of community. And it gives you something. Not everybody is perfect for everything. Not everybody is that club comedian. Not everybody is a full alt comedian. It’s good to know that there’s somewhere for you to be.

It’s huge, man.
It’s so big. It’s so undervalued.

—Asif Ali

MJ: I think in a healthy live comedy ecosystem, you—

AA: You do both. It’s really important to have that healthy ecosystem of everything. It’s incredibly important. It also keeps comedy alive. It’s nice to have a way for comedy to survive long-term. I feel like when it ebbs and flows, the thing that stays constant is these DIY places. DIY places stay constant because their overhead is much lower.

MJ: True. And it’s not about making money.

AA: It’s not about making money. They’re just doing it for the love of the game.

 

Barry Rothbart: I think it’s important to have parts of the comedy scene that aren’t completely financially driven. I think that’s the importance. I think once you involve a lot of money—which, clubs are a lot of money and big business; people are making a ton of money—I think it’ll always breed some sort of limitations. I think there will always be a little more freedom with less money. I think that’s most art. I think that as long as we make sure that we don’t ostracize people like that from the indie scene, I think it’ll serve its purpose. You’re allowed to bomb trying out some weird shit. Where you might not be allowed to bomb as much at a club . . . I think when you involve money, failure has more risk. I think that’s the basic need for a healthy independent scene in any art.

You’re allowed to bomb trying out some weird shit.

—Barry Rothbart

Andy Peters: I think independent comedy cultivates comedy as an art form. Comedy right now is more of a legitimate art form than it’s ever been. That’s because it’s treated as a community and less as a company or entity. Indie scenes and the independent do-it-yourself spirit have created so many styles, comedy-wise. Long ago it was considered art, but I think now because of the independence of it and that there’s no rules to it, there’s no one saying you have to do setup–punch line or you’re not a comedian; that’s the old-school mentality. You go to your shows at the Virgil, and you see people doing character stuff, riding bicycles onstage, throwing toast at the goddamn audience. It’s free.

 

Kurt Braunohler: New things can come out of [the independent comedy scene]. Clubs are very important, because they make money and they make comics money, but they are a business model that’s primarily based on needing the audience to sit there for an hour and a half so people can eat food and drink beer. Whereas independent comedy is . . . nobody’s getting paid, everybody is doing it because they love the art, and I think that’s why . . . more unique shit comes out of independent stuff. I like that you’re calling it independent. It used to be called alt comedy.

MJ: I know. Joel and I are real sticklers about it.

KB: I like “independent comedy.”

It’s not alt anymore. People who are just doing independent shows are doing stand-up that can go into clubs.

 

Justin Willman: Once I found the independent pocket in L.A., I really felt like I found my core group. It’s about finding that safe place. If you’re doing a show at a club or whatever, sometimes you feel like, I’ve just got to go out and do what is my best fifteen. But I feel like there’s less learning and growth in that versus a place where you can go and do something for the first time or go and do something that really is fresh and you can learn where the beats are. I feel like there’s a safe space in that and only a few rooms where I feel comfortable enough to do something that could fail. I think that’s when the best stuff happens. You’re doing something that could completely just be a bomb. If it turns out being great, you wouldn’t know otherwise if you didn’t have a room where you felt like you could have a safe space.

Natalie Palamides: People were really welcoming in the stand-up scene, which I was surprised by because of so many stories I’d heard of bad open mics where no one laughs at each other. I was a little bit nervous to delve into the stand-up scene. Everyone’s so cool and chill and supportive. I think they welcome something a little bit odd on their lineups too. Even Kurt Braunohler, he just did a show on a [gondola]. They’re all doing weird shit.

That’s how I came up with a new bit where I’m a mermaid, and I made it originally for the gondola show because Kurt told us we could swim. I was like, Well, there’s no way I’m going to do a show where we can swim up to a boat and not be a mermaid.

MJ: How do you do it when you do it onstage?

NP: I have them pull me out in a baby pool. I’m pouring a jug of water on me to keep moist. But, Mandee, you’ve always been really supportive, I have to say, of my weird comedy endeavors. I know if I come do The Super Serious Show, I will always be supported by you and Joel.

MJ: Always. Your crazy characters are always the best. Always finding ways to have water onstage—

NP: I know. I don’t know why it attracts me so much. I was actually recently looking up ways to bring a fish tank onstage.

MJ: Do you think that you would have found your way to where you are now if you hadn’t been able to go and do ten-minute spots on these independent shows?

NP: I don’t think so. If I couldn’t have just gone up and thrown shit at the wall, with open arms—people welcoming me onto their stage with open arms—I don’t think I would have been able to develop stuff. So much of what I do is developed through a relationship to the audience. So having the audience there is a really big part of it.

MJ: It sounds like you still use that as a way to develop new things. Who knows, this mermaid thing could be a whole one-woman show at some point.

NP: Once I get the tank made . . .

 

Ron Lynch: There are so many venues that support a greater variety of comedy. And the number of people that now have more places giving them the freedom to do whatever they want onstage has increased greatly. The name “alternative comedy,” which has always been a silly name to me—which, I suppose, is now “independent comedy”—simply means not mainstream comedy club stand-up. The dividing line is fading, and the audience is changing constantly. When I used to see someone on a primarily stand-up show do something weird or different, I used to think, “Where else can they do that?” Now there’s tons of places where anything goes.

When you really break it down, independent comedy is the kitchen, clubs are the dining room. Independent comedy’s a little bit more about what’s the process, and if you’re fed a delicious meal in a kitchen you’re not going to complain. But clubs are like . . . we don’t need to know how you make it, just serve it.

—Sean Patton

Andy Kindler: I think independent comedy reinvigorates Los Angeles . . . Look at Flappers: they opened up a club in the middle of all these strip malls or whatever, and to me, that club could be in any small town anywhere outside of L.A. We’ve got to appeal to this, we’ve got to appeal to that, we want to run a broad comedy club. It gets very hard. When you have an independent show, you just don’t have to pay attention to those “market-driven” things which really aren’t even market-driven things because I don’t think people really want to see that . . . It’s cheesy.

MJ: Yeah, the only point of producing independent shows as a producer (who doesn’t perform) is if you get joy out of it . . . You’re just curating the show to what you like, what you find interesting, what compels you. Versus what compels a bottom line.

AK: Right, and the thing is there’s also a spirit to it because comedy is supposed to be aimed at taking a piss out of the big guy. It’s supposed to be fighting for what’s right.

Live comedy is really honest. You can see in real time what people’s response is to what you’re saying.

—Parker Seaman (director)

 

Jake Weisman: Oh, the independent scene is vital . . . It allows you to think differently. It allows you to fail differently which is sometimes the best way to learn. I think the independent scene is remarkable simply because if you just think about it on a purity level, what’s so beautiful about comedy is you just need a fucking mic. The fact that people can have careers and do amazing things just by showing up to these weird little fucking rooms in the corners of coffee shops . . . that’s the beautiful part of it. Just the fact that people started open mics. That to me is the most independent thing ever. It’s a very almost entrepreneurial sort of American Dream kind of thing. If you don’t have independent comedy, you essentially don’t have comedy.

The independent comedy scene of L.A. is directly responsible for essentially why I have a career and why I’m still alive. It allowed me to work out a lot of different things and find out who I was. Any scene that is not regulated is always going to have its issues. Freedom comes at a price. But, oh my god, the beauty that it’s created is stunning. The creativity that it pushes forward and forces you to come up with is the best. If it were only clubs, that would just be terrible, because then you’re just at a place that is trying to sell dinner and drinks to you.

With clubs, you already have a system in place. You don’t have to set up the mic or chairs. Independent stuff . . . it teaches you how to build things from the ground up, how much work you need to put in, how much attention to detail you need to give in order to create something great.

You’re doing little stuff where it’s like, Why are you doing that? Because you care. In order to make something awesome . . . you have to work when people are not working. You have to put in more energy to it than other people will. The best things in life come from putting everything into it.

You guys, I’m sure you make a little money, but you really are just doing some sort of charity. And it’s because you love the thing. And it’s because you work your fucking ass off. If you didn’t, it wouldn’t be that great a show.

I think since the nineties, there’s been no break from alternative comedy, and it’s just become more mainstream now.

—Andy Kindler

Katherine Leon (producer): I want people to make stuff. I want people to be able to make things that they want to make in the way they want to make it. A lot of the live comedy that I’m around is being used to test or work out ideas that can become something else that doesn’t need to live on as a live show. Live shows can hone in a character or idea or an hour in such a unique way because of the immediate feedback from the audience.

Independent comedy is a bunch of weirdos putting their heart into something. It allows comedians to try out what they want, and it gives them an opportunity to shape it into exactly what they want. And things can just live as a live show if they want it to be. It almost makes it more special because you can experience this fever dream of a show with those people in that room watching something together.

 

Chris Garcia: I’m not one of those people that’s like, “I take hard political stances,” or “I’m not a concept person.” I’m just always processing what’s going on in my life. Whether it’s my dad getting sick or me getting married. There’s all these little things. I think that comes from having independent spaces. To feel comfortable being like, “Right now I’m thinking about being a dad, but I’m scared because of this.” Those are the types of things that you reveal in those types of cool places.

MJ: I think that’s super important because it demystifies life and personalizes it. I remember the first time when one of my nieces came to visit me for a month—she was young and wanted come see The Super Serious Show, when it was still at Smashbox. We wouldn’t let her watch the video, because the video was super dirty. We were like, This is obvious; she can’t watch the video. She was so annoyed with us. The rest of the show was surprisingly fine. And then a comedian did a bit about masturbation.

When we were driving home after we had wrapped, I was thinking . . . I don’t know? Is there a better way to hear about masturbation? In this moment a comedian is onstage sharing what could be perceived as something embarrassing, but they’re sharing it openly in front of two hundred people, making them all laugh. Versus learning about it in the bathroom, where it could be seen as dirty, wrong, or a mystery. Maybe that’s a moment someone would be ashamed about, but a comedian finds humor in it; they share it, and that it normalizes other people’s experiences.

CG: Yeah, you feel less alone; you feel accepted and seen. That’s important.

MJ: I think that that’s what your style of comedy does for people.

CG: It normalizes it for me too. I don’t know who it’s for, but a lot of it’s for me. It closes the circle to be able to articulate it and connect with people.

MJ: It’s so impactful. I’m sure that you feel that when you talk about your stuff with your dad, the way the audience treasures or responds to those moments.

CG: It’s really scary to put yourself out there. It’s humiliating to do stand-up. It’s stupid and embarrassing. It really is. And so to put yourself out there and for people not to like it, when it’s so personal to you, is a nightmare. But if it connects, then it’s the opposite of a nightmare. It’s so satisfying. Reaffirming. It’s a lovely thing.

Even though we’re narcissistic egomaniacs, there’s a lot of humility required to be a comedian.

—Pete Holmes

Pete Holmes: Independent Comey is a space [where] nothing was happening so you can do anything with it, as opposed to clubs [which] always suffer [because] there’s an expectation. Any sort of expectation. Exceptional comedy that just happened to be happening in a church is incredible. And magic. There’s more ownership of it for everybody involved. More ownership for the audience. Do you ever consider that they feel good? They made the show good. They showed up.

MJ: They’re part of the show. They’re part of what makes the show great.

PH: Of course. And if it’s not just this “Of course it’s good! We pack ’em in, we chill ’em out, we get ’em drunk, we blast the music; it’s like a TV taping”—if you can bring good energy to a church in Los Angeles on a Tuesday, the audience has more ownership, the acts have more ownership. It’s not a foregone conclusion, but it’s [not] like, “Yeah, comedy happens here; it’s a comedy club.” It’s like, “No, we made comedy here.” It’s like seeing an alien abduction; it’s more exciting.

MJ: It allows for it to be truly yours.

PH: It has a magical feeling.

 

Dana Gould: That’s when a scene happens is when a performer or a group of performers mirror where their audience is in their life. I think that’s really valuable. That’s what I think the difference is between regular stand-up and alternative stand-up. It started when we weren’t just performing and talking at people—

MJ: But started talking to them.

DG: And I think that was reflected back, and I think that’s what made it different. A lot of that is just the communication with the audience, and that was what made alternative comedy different: the performer’s relationship to the audience.

MJ: It does feel like running a weekly show, you notice: not only do comedians come out for the sense of community, but you definitely feel the audience is there for a sense of community.

DG: I think that’s the difference between alternative comedy and regular comedy. I also think that’s what all alternative music does. In early rap and hip-hop certainly—for instance, NWA—they spoke to a specific audience. “I’m not trying to take you out of your life for a moment; I’m trying to legitimize your life.”

MJ: Bring everyone together.

DG: And it’s not escapism; it’s actually the reverse. They’re going to embrace who you are and validate your personal experience. The interesting thing about comedians is when you do have a relationship with your audience, you grow with them.

Kristen Schaal: I think that independent comedy is about grinding your way on your own and hoping an audience will come to you. And also for me, I just really like having a space . . .

When I was coming up, my favorite thing—I was in New York for like a week, and I was like, “What am I doing here?” and it was so overwhelming, and I stumbled into Eating It, which was created by Marc Maron and Janeane Garofalo, and Jeff Singer produced it. And it’s where I saw Eugene Mirman and Jon Glaser and Todd Barry. And I saw all of these comedians that ended up becoming my friends eventually. Like Jon Benjamin performing with Jon Glaser. And it was $7, which I could afford because I had no money at all. I was royally struggling. And it was $7 to get in, and you got a free drink to go with it.

MJ: Wow, that is a good deal. An alcoholic drink?

KS: Yeah! It was a great deal. And those two things combined, it was something I could do every Monday night. I could go to the show, and I could watch. And I did it for two years before I even asked to perform there because I didn’t think I was ready. That’s what I like, and that’s what comedy needs too, a place where other comedians or comedy lovers who don’t have any money can go see shows . . . A night out is great, and if you want to spend a lot of money on a night out, you totally should. But comedy can exist every single night, and everyone [should] be able to enjoy it.

 

Baron Vaughn: The thing about independent comedy is it is rarely motivated by the bottom line. Because of that, because people usually create shows because of their love and respect for comics and comedy. There’s just a different . . . it creates an environment where comics can thrive, as opposed to getting eaten up by the competition that people can get wrapped up in. That way, there’s always this breeding ground, if you will, of interesting shit happening. And the clubs are less interested in that. The indie scene is always evolving. It’s always in front of the wave of what’s happening with stand-up. The indie scene also is . . . what’s the word I’m looking for . . . I want to say . . . accepting. Open to new people.

In those independent spaces . . . that’s where you really throw the clay. And you mold it and maybe take it to the club. But you need that; you need that space.

—Chris Garcia

 

Hasan Minhaj: The difficulty is how do you cultivate young voices? Because I understand that if it’s a big show, you want to have premier talent on the show, but where is that grooming process happening? There needs to be a space for it, and that was what the independent shows allowed for. I got to see people like Allen Strickland Williams, Ahmed Bharoocha, Beth Stelling—like, these guys develop and cultivate. I got to see them become really, really great comedians, and it filled that which I thought was missing in those places: cultivate a talent and become the place to host premiere talent.

Joel Mandelkorn: When money’s not involved, you’re free to go maybe a little looser with your goals on booking . . .

MJ: I think that producing an independent show, especially when it’s your money that you put into it, you can do whatever you want. It’s ultimately your show. No one’s telling me who needs to be on my show. It’s up to us, and we will either suffer or be rewarded from them. An early thing people would say about The Super Serious Show that it was well curated and there was a distinct thought process toward it.

HM: To me, the show felt like eating at a great restaurant. Everything was cultivated or curated. It felt like it was an informed choice: the location, the lighting design, the feel of the show, the actual content, the meal of the show itself. That all felt like it came together and was a really amazing experience. For a once-a-month show, if you’re a fan of comedy, that’s a thing to go do. And getting to do your show, looking back on it, felt like, “Oh, I’m getting to do this really, really great show.” And to say that I got to do that show that year is a big deal. Because all of those things were singing together.

You really have the freedom to explore an idea and fail [in independent rooms]. At a club there’s a lot more pressure to kill because people are paying to be there.

—Ali Wong

 

Ron Funches: Independent comedy shows are on the ground floor of finding good comedians and developing them, giving them a chance to learn. People forget about things, like knowing how much is a six-minute set or a ten-minute set, not burning the light; these are all skills you have to learn so when you’re on a TV show and there’s real money involved, you’re a professional. That starts on a base level. Knowing from the beginning that you’re growing and you’re building relationships. I think that starts with these independent shows because, like anything, if you’re playing basketball or football, you don’t normally start in any league; you start playing with your friends, and that’s what these shows are.

Adam Cayton-Holland: Independent comedy is so important to me I can’t even put it into words because I feel it should just be assumed. That’s like asking, Why is independent music important to live music? Because it allows for voices to be heard that would otherwise never be heard. Interesting, intelligent, thought-provoking voices that may not rise to the top of your traditional club comedy chain of command, because odds are a corporate party who bought out ten tables on a Saturday night aren’t going to respond to what they’re doing. Indie comedy allows for those voices to learn and grow until they’re so strong that you know what—they will crush with that corporate party on a Saturday night at a comedy club. Because they’re that much of a pro they can even go into horrible comedy landscapes and do well. They just needed to hone their voices in a smarter environment first.

 

Rachel Bloom: It’s getting rid of the idea of the gatekeeper—which relates to putting your comedy shorts on the internet. You can directly reach the audience. You don’t have to wait for the powers that be. That’s a very Western thing.

That’s what doing live comedy does. The audience doesn’t lie. Laughs don’t lie. Lack of a laugh doesn’t lie . . . When you’re dealing with live theater or live comedy, it’s right there. It gives you the urge to be current. Your audience is going to tell you if something you’re saying isn’t striking a chord with them.

Payman Benz (director): I think independent shows are the key to innovation and originality. I’d much rather watch an independent comedy show because it’s about quality and not about selling tickets because the star of a movie is performing that night. The audiences at independent venues know what they want to see, so it’s a great vibe. I’d rather watch comedy in that environment than surrounded by drunk tourists at a comedy club on Sunset Boulevard.

 

MJ: What are your overall thoughts on that experience and the community that you built through your independent show and its contribution to the community?

Cameron Esposito: First of all, I will say that I think that show [Put Your Hands Together] had a lasting impact on the L.A. independent scene. When I got here, a lot of comics used the gay slurs, and I sort of had a policy that folks just wouldn’t be readily rebooked if they used those at my show. I don’t like to hear those words; I don’t think it’s interesting. When they did use it, I would talk about it afterward. When I go to indie shows today, I don’t hear people saying them as much. So does it matter when one of the big indie shows in town has two queer people who will always call you out if you say a dumb homophobic joke? I think that stuff can sort of make little ripples that then eventually end up affecting a whole scene.

MJ: Definitely, I think that even on a larger perspective, the independent scene in Los Angeles over the past ten years has become incredibly more diverse in all walks of life and ways, which I think is very exciting. I think that shows, when they start to have an obvious eye toward wanting diversity because it’s what they find more interesting, it adds some more interesting styles, points of view, and more interesting comedy. That it has a tidal wave through other shows.

CE: At the time when Meltdown was the biggest Wednesday show, Put Your Hands Together was the biggest Tuesday show, and Hot Tub was the biggest Monday show, all of those, three nights in a row, I think all of those shows were run by producers who were trying to have a really balanced lineup, and that, I think, had a huge effect.

Also, all of those shows have women, queer people, people of color, in power, and that also matters: when you see that the folks who are running the thing are from a marginalized demographic.

 

Kyle Mizono: The scene is way more diverse from when I started. I literally remember going places and being, like, the only woman, maybe the only minority on a show. Some of the smaller shows that I do now, I’m just blown away because everyone is so unique and they seem to be going down their own path. It’s cool to see people really just following who they are and doing stuff that no one else could do.

MJ: How did running your own shows impact the way you thought about live comedy?

Brent Weinbach: Running my own shows, it made me kind of . . . it made me interested in diversity, and I don’t mean that racially or gender-wise—I mean comedically. If I ran my own show today, I would want to try to get different kinds . . . I would like to see a bill that had . . . I don’t know, just somebody like Chris D’Elia and Reggie Watts on the same show. Or something like that. Get people who people think of as more club comedians with people who [they] think of as more alternative comedians. But I guess running my own show, I think I just don’t really see any difference between alternative and club or whatever. I think it’s all comedy, and, I don’t know, I guess it’s all about just funny. There’s no difference really to me . . . There doesn’t need to be any separation.

Any show that takes chances and is willing to let people do something different—fail and foster an experimental environment—is goiang to be valuable in terms of discovering funny, talented people and showcasing new ideas.

—Jason Woliner (director)

 

Moses Storm: Independent comedy taught me how to be nice to people. A lot of the clubs have a tendency to reward people with big egos. The alt scene is very saturated because it’s so small. No one’s making money. It’s not a business. Everyone’s doing it to essentially perform or . . . no one’s doing an alt show to get rich. It taught me you can just be nice to people and really respect everyone because these are the same people you’re coming up with. The alt scene is very incestuous. The clubs can feel very separate. You’re a Laugh Factory guy. You’re an Improv. You’re a Comedy Store guy. They have their own little camps. The alt scene is mixed.

 

Sean Patton: I’m doing two spots in a night, and one of them is at a bar show, and one of them is at a club spot. I know that if I’m doing the same bit at both . . . I’m going to take the bit off its leash, and just let it run, at the independent show. Let’s see what you can do. You know this works; let it breathe a little bit more. Let it take a second; let it take an extra syllable. Throw in a line that you thought of on the way there that might help it or might hurt it, but see. Either way you’re able to rebound. Whereas I know when I go back to the club scene, I’m going to put the leash back on. Now I’m still going to let it roam, I’m going to maybe even let go of the leash at times, and that’s kind of how it’s always been. The independent club world, there is room for mistakes, which makes the shows so much more beautiful.

The independent rooms make you better at being in the moment, right? And the clubs make you better at fucking executing in that moment.

Dave Anthony: I think that when people go to a comedy club, they go to see comedy, and sometimes they go to see a comedian, but usually that comedian is big, right? People who go to alternative rooms get into the actual comics’ personas, like Eddie Pepitone or Maria Bamford. It’s just a totally different feel. They sort of get into the person’s personality more as opposed to just the jokes.

For me the ultimate example is Tig [Notaro] dragging the stool across Conan. That doesn’t come from a comedy club. That is one of the funniest things, and that’s just a person who did a lot of stuff and took a lot of chances and just comes up with that. And then there’s Jon Dore doing the dueling set with Rory [Scovel]; that stuff is never gonna happen in a regular comedy club. There’s this attitude of Let’s take a chance and do the craziest, weirdest thing and see if this will work, and you’d just never do that anywhere else. You couldn’t.

 

Rory Scovel: I really enjoy taking big risks and messing around, and I don’t feel as guilty doing that in front of a crowd that didn’t pay a lot or anything to get into the show. A lot of people were paying five bucks; it’s like, C’mon, you probably want to see experiments happen, you know? But if you were paying $15 or more, maybe a date night, knowing how hard it is to get a babysitter and what that cost you . . . When you start to factor those things, I don’t feel as free to just wing a set and try to find it. I’m still very loose, but it’s stuff that I’m like, All right, this isn’t brand new, and I have an alternate I can go to if this bombs.

The audience that you guys have cultivated is almost perfect because it’s people that are willing to pay, but they also know exactly what they’re getting.

MJ: Having that freedom to like really be like, Fuck it, I’m just gonna bomb. This is for me and not for them. Has that helped you craft and form and find that voice more?

RS: One hundred percent. Yeah, because throughout any performance, every second you’re making a decision. And the more experimental or the more absurd a decision is, then you’re going to end up in a place you haven’t been before, and then that’s going to teach you something.

Demetri Martin: For me . . . personally, and I think for a lot of comedians, and probably for the state of comedy, without being too monumental about it all—I think like anything, stand-up comedy can get pretty homogenous. It seems like there are people who make money off it even as we are unknown comedians, and the best model for them is for the comedians to be . . . to fit into a very specific box. The brick wall/microphone comedy shows in that sense, once you have the room, aren’t that hard to produce.

Can I do a slideshow? No. Don’t do a slideshow. Can I play a piano? No, we don’t have a piano; you’re not playing piano. So, in that sense, I think independent comedy is really important. It encourages people who are less typical to develop their voice.

 

Paul Danke: I think independent stuff is the most important because it removes a layer of professional gatekeepers deciding what is and isn’t allowed to be performed, which is inherently pro structure, pro status quo. I think comedy is inherently subversive, and so it really thrives independently . . . It grows up quickly in places you’re not expecting it because there’s so many people . . . that are not getting what they need from corporate-style comedy, preapproved, packaged, slick, smooth, noted, capital C comedy. To me, that’s not what I needed. There was some of it I really liked when I was younger, but when I came and really found the alternative comedy scene, it was like, Oh, this is so much more interesting. You can go so many different places with this.

Peter Atencio (director): Independent shows are hugely important because they create a safe space for comedy to be experimental. A lot of people take that to mean material that is too offensive or vulgar, but that’s not really it. It’s more about trying things that you don’t even know whether they’re funny or not and discovering new observations about our society and culture by way of new methods of commentary. Independent shows keep comedy refreshing and interesting, and they’re crucial to the survival of live comedy.

 

Joe Mande: I think that a comedy scene really thrives when people take it upon themselves to produce shows. It’s what incubates and develops a dynamic and organic comedy scene. Not just in L.A. or New York—I mean, any city. It’s almost never a money-making enterprise, but it’s vital in terms of bringing people together and creating stage time for people seeking it out.

Anna Seregina: I honestly associate the independent comedy scene with you guys. To me it was a very . . . it was so cool to see . . . I remember my first time at Hot Tub—the audience is way more playful. They’re knowledgeable about comedy; it’s not like comedy is just bestowed upon them. It’s their will.

Alternative doesn’t mean bar show with one audience member. Alternative as successful had never really presented itself to me . . . Hot Tub and The Super Serious Show definitely were very eye opening.

When I went to Hot Tub, that’s the first time I saw Dr. Brown and Sam Simmons. I didn’t even know comedy could do that . . . I saw Ceremony, and it was fucking great; it felt crazy. I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s like, “Yeah, and that’s when comedy was punk,” but it felt really . . . so exciting. It was unpredictable. It was the first time I felt as an audience [member] that my enjoyment directly influenced what was happening onstage and dictated where the show goes, and it felt crazy. I didn’t know that was an option. I thought comedy was done at you. I’d never seen comedy that considers you as an audience member, and that felt really cool. You’re in the room, your laughter is guiding where the performance is going, you know it can’t really be repeated. That stays with you . . . That feeling: it’s physical.

 

Anthony Jeselnik: I think you just have to have something that’s a little more avant-garde than the club scene. The club scene, you know what you’re getting. It’s a lot of tourists. I like the alt scene. The alt scene is always changing and evolving. It’s much different than the alt scene that I came up in, which is different than the scene that I romanticized when I got here. I think it’s a place where people can go and try different things, and they get a little more grace from the audience. They want something a little weirder. The difference between a Marvel movie and independent film. You want both. You like seeing both movies, but you’d be really bummed if independent film went away. I loved that you can try anything. You got really great people, major stars or legends doing some weird little thing onstage, that I love. You couldn’t ever get away with that at a club. I think that independent comedy is much more important to me than the club scene. Even though I wanted to be able to do both.

MJ: There’s value in both. You get better if you can do both. You play to different audiences and different strengths.

AJ: I think there’s more patience in the independent scene. They’ll let your character develop. They’ll watch you go through this. You don’t have to be funny right away. The clubs, you’ve gotta be hitting. In the independent scene you can tell an interesting story. People will be OK. They’re not mad. Sometimes it’s like they paid five dollars versus thirty dollars. It’s a different . . .

But it was important to me to be able to do both. I remember one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever seen was watching Demetri Martin bomb at some show on Santa Monica . . . I remember just running home as fast as I could and emailing my friend to be like, “I just watched him bomb the same way we bomb. We can do this.” That was the most inspiring thing ever, was watching someone fail who I thought the world of.

Karen Kilgariff: There are so few people that come at the producing game and come at comedy with the love of how magical it is as a thing by itself. Separate from how incredibly valued it is later. Comics are easy to trick. They’re easy to string along. They’re needy and desperate in ways that are astounding. And you have to be protective. Obviously, I think that’s why you guys are successful: you understand the job of a producer around talent is to create the protective shell so that the show comes out of them. The show is made for the people. You guys are talent scouts in a way. When you put a show together, you’re like, “Here’s a voice that needs to be heard. Here are jokes you’ve never heard before.” You guys know your shit. So you know what you can give people.

MJ: We always want to have a nice diverse lineup. That was the original goal. When we started The Super Serious Show, we liked being part of this community, so we just want to keep doing it. That was it . . .

Forever, and rightfully so, comics were so skeptical of me and Joel. They were like, “Why are you doing this?” I remember having a conversation with Greg Proops; he was like, “I don’t understand why you do this.” I was like, “It’s fun.” He was like, “But how much money do you make per show?” and I was like, “Maybe a hundred dollars after expenses?” And he was like . . . “But why?” and I was like, “Why not?”

KK: It’s illogical for people who are short-termers. It’s illogical for people who don’t actually get it and who haven’t seen straight-up fucking magic. What I think is so beautiful about the comedy explosion is that I would attribute it to that time after Largo. That was really the Meltdown time, your time, where it really got viral, digital. The people started finding the shows that were good for them, your guys’ show, whatever, but it became this . . . It was foodies but for comedy. People really knew their shit as audience members. That was the shocking thing to me when I went back—is how smart and up-to-date everyone was. Greg Proops asking you that question, that’s such a reflection of that era we’re from, which is everyone’s there to make money. There was very little art. A lot of people got treated like, “Get in line after whoever. You’re one of many. Your shit isn’t special.”

I think the difference, it went from, if you just show up at a comedy club and you have a hundred dollars to spend, you might have a good time; you might find your dream comic that you’ll follow to the ends of the earth. You also might hate it and watch someone that sucks. The audience was in turmoil and took it out on you if you even showed an ounce of weakness. Later on, because of the internet, people could find these independent shows. It was people sitting there getting exactly what they wanted. It was perfectly tailored to them.

Reggie Watts: The term “alt comedy” came from Malcolm Hardee . . . British comedian, kind of the Godfather of, I guess . . . Some people consider him the Godfather of alt comedy. And the reason why they called it alt comedy is because he had a show at a place called the Time Tunnel or the Tunnel or something. He was the host. He would have to keep people at bay and keep people’s attention, because when people came on to perform, the audience was super vicious. Almost like punk, like a punk comedy show . . . Someone’s onstage and they’re bombing, and then he would go behind them [and] he’d start peeing on the wall. The audience would be like, “Ahhh!” and the comedian thought they were doing well. So it was a pretty rough, crazy time.

MJ: When was that?

RW: This would have been the late seventies.

MJ: In London?

RW: London. He does postindustrial comedy, essentially. And somewhere between cabaret and stand-up comedy, but more cabaret comedy. And then there was some location that was the wrong location, and people were showing up for the show, but it was the wrong location. And the owner of that location put up a sign saying something to do with “alt comedy,” as in the “alternative venue.” It’s, This isn’t the venue; it’s the other venue. I like the idea of thinking it came from a practical . . . not like someone was like, “Oh, it’s alternative because it’s the other choice beyond the mainstream choice,” or whatever. That kind of pretentious way of thinking about it. “We’re special because it’s weird.” But it just came from, “Oh, no, this is the wrong place. Alternative venue. Oh, OK, I’ll go there.”

MJ: I love that; I love the reference with punk because I feel like a lot of the people I’ve talked to, Dave Ross especially, reference a lot of running independent comedy shows and building up a space in a very . . . It comes from a weird punk underground thing where you’re like, “I want to do it my way. I want to have my thing. I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do with it. I’m going to build my show. I’m going to put it in this weird place. I’ll build the stage, I’ll light it, I’ll get the people here.”

RW: It’s super DIY. It started with Fugazi and Black Flag and all those guys. That whole DIY movement definitely carries over into comedy.

MJ: The reason Super Serious Show started at a photo studio is because no one else would have us. But then it informed so much of what the show was . . . It was built because we were like, Oh, we’re in this venue; we need to make this venue work . . .

RW: The fact that you just did it. You just found a way to make it happen. You did it. That’s fucking awesome.

MJ: That’s the best part about independent comedy . . . If you get comedians there and you get an audience there, you have a show.

RW: Yeah, exactly. That’s all it takes. It’s pretty exciting that way. It’s a good realization for an audience member or someone who’s aspiring to get in on this. To see, Oh, we just started a night. Oh, that’s what you did? Yeah, we just started a night. But there wasn’t any . . . What’s the protocol? There’s no protocol. You just find a place to do it. Just let people know that you’re doing a show. They’ll show up . . .