I’m purposely
keeping my approach to the open spot I’m doing in London tomorrow a little
loose, as a social experiment.
This seemed to
stand me in good stead for my short solo set at last Thursday’s Mostly Comedy.
The fact it was such a tiny fraction of the evening, and Glyn and I had already
been on to a good response, meant it wasn’t important; as a result, I did a
better job. If I can sit back on the material a bit, as I do when I’m
performing my hour-long show, I might enjoy it more and get a more enthusiastic
response.
Ultimately, the
point of me taking open spots is to try stuff out. It’s not about getting stage
experience, other than in the sense that I’ve done less stand-up on my own. I
may as well play with what I do, in hope of improvement. It’s better to take risks
and fail, if it helps me find new ways to succeed.
(I sound like an
internet meme.)
The strangest
aspect to performing stand-up on my own, particularly when the gig isn’t run by
me, is turning up to a venue alone and not working with a projector. I’m so
used to being in a double act that I’ve not spent much time in comedy clubs
without company. I know my place in a conversation with Glyn by my side, but
less so without. Likewise, the combination of being on stage with him with
slides to fall back on, gives me more time to think. We create more distraction
together than we do apart. If it’s just me and a mic, without the clarity of
pictures to reinforce my words, I’m forced to work harder.
I may as well use
these opportunities when I’m under the radar, to experiment with newer, half
thought-through ideas, to see what sticks. I did in my early days working with
Glyn, after all. We debuted the Star Trek Porn Letter at the second ever Mostly
Comedy, for example, not knowing whether it would work and it turned out right.
We still perform it the same way to this day (to the disdain of any Mostly Comedy
regulars).