[Part Three of my Comedy Autobiography was delayed due to the fact that I was preparing for and eventually performing in an enormous show that took place a week ago. I would love to elaborate and detail the wondrous experience it was and reflect on how far I've come from where I began but alas...we're still in New York aren't we?
It was my intention to have this blog journey completed before the show but well, I got a bit sidetracked. Fear not, I have a claptrap memory as solid as a titanium lockbox so not a moment will be forgotten but you'll just have to wait a bit for the show recap. As for now, back to the late 90s...]
It was my intention to have this blog journey completed before the show but well, I got a bit sidetracked. Fear not, I have a claptrap memory as solid as a titanium lockbox so not a moment will be forgotten but you'll just have to wait a bit for the show recap. As for now, back to the late 90s...]
Part I
Part II
The Alternative New York Comedian
It's a Scorpio thing...
The self destructive tendencies born from self hatred and the lust for perfection. Torches are lit from within as identities, beliefs, thoughts and connections are reduced to smoldering ashes. It can happen in an instant or over the course of years depending on the length of the hibernation. We can be in public and still be invisible, ghosts in conversations and shells of personalities.
That night in the New York Comedy Club where I experienced the worst Comedy show of my life ignited a slow burning inferno. Emerging from it fresh and new years later I was more determined than ever to create the work that I was meant to create. Yet I was not the same, not even close.
First, the name change...two of them. My biological birth name was set aside for a moniker that could break through the reflection of any glass ceiling or self imposed limitation; and it was a name suggested to me by my father: Issac Bright. It was my Hebrew name transformed into a glistening shine of infinite possibilities.
I had gone to Israel with my family, I cannot remember the reason. It was the first time I had been back in Jerusalem, my place of birth, for many many years. No need to retell the entire trip but what I will never forget was my father sitting me down and giving me a talk. A real talk. My parents never resorted to 'talks' when it came to me. I didn't get many of them over the course of my life, scolded, continuously questioned or reprimanded yes but talks, not so much.
But that talk was probably the most important one I have had in my life. My father had never really talked to me like this before. It wasn't mean, it wasn't hard boiled or this Guru Inspirational Talk. It was a heartfelt expression of him telling me exactly what I needed to hear. In a nutshell, it was time for me to get my act together. It was time. Enough was enough. I was wasting away my life.
I ended up changing my ticket that day and left Israel early.
I was frothing at the mouth. New York was in for it.
I wasn't done with the names. I needed something else. I have no idea where this one came from, probably from the stars or a mischievous imp perched on my shoulder. I decided to call myself 'The Underground Verbal Assassin'. Huh? I know. Huh.
| You. I will rip YOU a new one. |
That's me on the right. That picture was taken in the Meat Packing District on the West Side back when the Meat Packing District packed meat, body parts, hookers and needles. You just didn't go there and take headshots. Oh but I did. Now? It's a gentrified cool destination for restaurants and clubs. Yeesh.
I returned to the City with the glow of a reborn force of nature and crashed into the first and still only major heartbreak of my life. I mean, here I am ready to take on the world and the only girl I ever actually dated for more than a couple of months decided she was done. It wasn't until she said she was done that I realized that I loved her; that I had repressed that feeling to stay cool. To this day I'm still bewildered how I actually woke up crying. Like, here I am sleeping, dreaming and I'm woken up by my tears streaming into my mouth. I've not been serious with anyone since.
[Tune in for Part IV coming soon!]
I returned to the City with the glow of a reborn force of nature and crashed into the first and still only major heartbreak of my life. I mean, here I am ready to take on the world and the only girl I ever actually dated for more than a couple of months decided she was done. It wasn't until she said she was done that I realized that I loved her; that I had repressed that feeling to stay cool. To this day I'm still bewildered how I actually woke up crying. Like, here I am sleeping, dreaming and I'm woken up by my tears streaming into my mouth. I've not been serious with anyone since.
It took a few months of hibernation and woe is me-ness before I could get back on the horse of life again and get back on the Mic. This second time around I made a conscious decision to not go for the mainstream Comedy Clubs. Nah, not interested. I was different. I felt different. To recap, I didn't just have this Stand-Up itch I also had this Weird Not Yet Formed One Man Show Thang rattling around my grey macaroni.
At this time there was a new scene that was emerging out of the Lower East Side of NYC, it was an alternative comedy scene that was born in clubs like Surf Reality and Collective Consciousness. Artists of all kinds were finding hungry audiences willing to let them stretch themselves and experiment with new forms; it was perfect for where I was at.
I plunged into this scene with reckless abandon and sought out as many unconventional stages and opportunities that I could find. For a while I was performing in this bookshop/potpourri/random doo-dad shop that was putting up shows to benefit a specific charity of which the name escapes me. I wasn't turning down real Comedy Clubs. I just wasn't all focused on them. Kinda like me saying, okay, yeah, I really dig Blondes but I'm a only chat up the ethnic types. Blondes...oh Blondes. Sitting here typing this I realize almost every single woman I've ever dated has been a Blonde. Anyway...
I was doing really well, developing my act, my identity as this 'Verbal Assassin'. I was ruthless, nothing was off limits. Nobody dared speak up during my act, I would ream them. My tongue was sharpening and so was my material. Consequently I was starting to be offered prestigious gigs to which I developed a peculiar habit of sabotaging them. A habit that continued when I reached LA as well. How so?
Well, what a Normal Comedian does is work on what's called a 'Tight 8' or something similar. Basically, a comic wants to hone in and sculpt an act that's as solid as they can get it so that they can present that act over and over with hopes of booking better gigs, TV spots, impressing agents blah blah blah. Yeah, whatever says the Goateed Puerto Rican Jew Looking Prince Fan with the Bloody Tongue.
So what would happen is I would do a killer set and impress someone. They would then offer me a primo gig figuring I would just do the same set since that's what every Comedian would do. Instead, what I would do is do something completely different. See, I already did that bit. It's finished. Why would I do it again? I have all this other stuff! I have hours upon hours of stuff! I can't do the same thing, that would be so rude of me. My stuff needs to be heard....all of it! Yes, the Rhythm the Rebel without a Pause I'm lowering my Level!
Oy vey.
So yeah. That's how I rolled. I mean yes, on some level it sounds patently ridiculous but on another here's what was going on. I was testing them. I was testing them all to see if they could really handle me, like all of me. On another level it was me knowing that I ultimately did not want to perform at Comedy Clubs. I had bigger ideas.
Probably the biggest sabotage I enacted was at the new Catch a Rising Star that had opened recently back then. The club was gorgeous. An absolute gem. I ended up getting a gig there through someone and killed it. Probably my best Stand-Up gig I ever did in New York. I was on fire that night. So naturally I was asked back and put in a bigger show. I went up early and...man, I'm laughing at myself as I type this.
Sigh...so my act was this. Of course it was nothing like the best show I just performed, oh, no perish the thought. My act was me being introduced by some Italian cat who was booking Ragu Spaghetti Sauce commercials at the time or something like that. I had an extensive intro that I made him read off an index card that included my Verbal Assassin title. I also made him say, to the best of his ability, 'Up From the 36 Chambers!!! - Issac Bright!' as an homage to the Wu Tang Clan. So picture this uptight white dude saying 'Up From the 36 Chambers' to a very white crowd at a shwanky Comedy Club as I strolled on stage. I know. I know.
I then proceeded to 'Act Like A Normal Comedian'. I told silly 'Normal Comedian' jokes and pretended to be all put together, suave and smooth like a seasoned comic. Just as I had them going thinking I was really cool I slowly began to transform into...The Verbal Assassin. My voice started changing, I began convulsing trying to deliver 'Normal' jokes but ultimately the Assassin took over and hastily began to rip a hole into the atmosphere with his unique brand of humor. I got laughs. I got more bewildered looks. I walked off triumphantly.
Never performed there again.
And this was the spot people. I mean, the place was packed, it had buzz and attracted the heavyweights. Right after I went on Jeffrey Ross went on and smashed it. After he went on Louis C.K. went on and murdered a set. They were hilarious. I was dying laughing. Admittedly nobody was talking about the weirdo who had a Jekyll & Hyde meltdown onstage earlier.
I remember sitting at the bar all by myself, probably feeling smug, as in 'These people don't get me, eff them, I'll show them'. This woman approached me, the only audience member of the night and said 'You're really funny, but man...you're tough. You're a lot' and then she walked off. Okay, well if I really didn't wanna perform here, then where? And doing what?
Subconsciously I was setting myself up for my final Love Letter to Manhattan but I didn't know it at the time. Nothing was sticking or moving forward because I wasn't allowing anything to move forward.
Enter OMFUG Jr.
[Tune in for Part IV coming soon!]
