this is very funny: "I used to study my favourite chord changes and tried my hardest to 'do a chord change like that' and generally 'do a song like that'."
i like how you do comedy like THAT!
this is very true (VERY true): "I’ve often observed comedians who seem very similar to another famous comedian, and they do them very well, but they are creating a prison of style that they aren’t able to break free from."
exactly. to avoid this, just be very similar to EVERY comedian. though also, "a prison of style" sounds like a good name for an album/special.
i really do think there is a version of "If you have just the right balance of influences and enough talent, you can create a sound that’s ironically quite unique" in comedy as well as music. we're all working with the same basic building blocks of reality (?!), using bodies we didn't create, speaking languages we mostly didn't invent, observing cultures that so many belong to, experiencing emotions that so many humans share, but with infinite combinations of all these things possible, sometimes something beautiful and unique and new arises! (in the form of a fart joke. OR MAYBE EVEN A JOKE THAT'S NOT A FART JOKE. not this time though.)
Having had some very modest success in bands (I have seen Pete Doherty in his underpants - yeah, *that* successful) and also done stand up for a few years, let me throw in my two penneth:
Playing in a band, you feel like an invincible gang that's become the centre of the entire universe. This feeling may not last unless you have fairytale rise to stardom.
While your most mates would happily push you in front of a bus if it meant their band gets your Friday night slot supporting Frobscottle at the Camden Monarch, there is a modicum of camerarderie among struggling bands. In comedy it's said you're only as good as your last gig. The unspoken addendum is "as a human being" If you die on your arse, literally no-one wants to even acknowledge you, lest the taint of failure rub off on them.
Also, there are lots of ways a music gig can count as good on your own terms. As a comic there is a singular metric of success, laughter, which is fed back to you in real time. And, as this blog has noted, if you're going down badly as a comic you can't Johnny Rotten it out.
Being in a band is incredibly expensive. Rehearsing, recording, petrol, repairs etc all cost a big chunk of your disposal income especially when you have the sort of shitty job where you can get away with turning up looking like shit on two hours sleep after playing an out of town gig on a weeknight. You sink every single penny you make from music and your shitty day job straight back into the band. And that's just to survive on the lowest rung of the ladder. Mounting any sort of serious assault on the slopes of success almost certainly means taking on the sort of debt that means you may never own property or retire (from your shirt day job, that is...)
Add to this, in the UK, there are no regular paying gigs for musicians playing original material. They only way to make your band even cover its own costs, let alone support you (a herculean task back when the industry was thriving, de facto impossible in the streaming era) is to build your own following from scratch in a hail of the background noise of everyone else trying to do the same. Whereas, as Caroline notes, if you're reliable at making people laugh, people will pay you to do so.
Being in a band also involves working with bandmates. Most of your bandmates will be lazy braggarts who talk endlessly about the brilliant plans they have for when they're famous but moan like spoiled children when they're expected to turn up to a rehearsal or soundcheck and put in a modicum of graft for their art. Also, most musicians like awful music, like hairdressers have awful haircuts and fashion designers wear awful clothes. That's why the backstory of almost every great band has the Avengers Assemble episode where a group of determined, like-minded people finally find each other and begin doing it properly.
That said, nearly all actual band-ing is if not fun, then rewarding: writing songs, rehearsing them into shape, performing to a venue that's anywhere near halfway full, even doing the boring bits is fun in the early days when everyone's pitching in and there's a sense of collective purpose to it.
With comedy, you're not dependent on anyone but yourself and while that's liberating after months of frantically ringing your functional alcoholic bassist's mobile voicemail on the day of gigs it's also incredibly scary because if you fail then YOU fail: no excuses, no-one else to blame, sorry bucko, you just weren't good enough (and by extension, as a human being)
Similarly, the only fun part of comedy is being onstage, doing well. Or getting hammered after gigs but that's really not a sustainable habit if you want to give comedy a proper go (or live beyond your 50s). I can only speak for myself but I used to look forward to my band gigs with excitement and anticipation and my comedy gigs with gnawing anxiety and silent entreaties to the comedy gods that 'please let this be one of the good ones.'
So, they're you go. Comedy. Music. Both awful in their own ways but you've got to do something with your life haven't you?
dear caroline,
another banger! always love what you write.
this is very funny: "I used to study my favourite chord changes and tried my hardest to 'do a chord change like that' and generally 'do a song like that'."
i like how you do comedy like THAT!
this is very true (VERY true): "I’ve often observed comedians who seem very similar to another famous comedian, and they do them very well, but they are creating a prison of style that they aren’t able to break free from."
exactly. to avoid this, just be very similar to EVERY comedian. though also, "a prison of style" sounds like a good name for an album/special.
thanks for sharing as always!
love
myq
Thanks as always for your kind comments and making me feel seen 🥰
of course!
i really do think there is a version of "If you have just the right balance of influences and enough talent, you can create a sound that’s ironically quite unique" in comedy as well as music. we're all working with the same basic building blocks of reality (?!), using bodies we didn't create, speaking languages we mostly didn't invent, observing cultures that so many belong to, experiencing emotions that so many humans share, but with infinite combinations of all these things possible, sometimes something beautiful and unique and new arises! (in the form of a fart joke. OR MAYBE EVEN A JOKE THAT'S NOT A FART JOKE. not this time though.)
I wrote plenty of songs by attempting to rip off stuff, lacking the chops to do so and stumbling across something new!
love it! that makes a lot of sense!
Having had some very modest success in bands (I have seen Pete Doherty in his underpants - yeah, *that* successful) and also done stand up for a few years, let me throw in my two penneth:
Playing in a band, you feel like an invincible gang that's become the centre of the entire universe. This feeling may not last unless you have fairytale rise to stardom.
While your most mates would happily push you in front of a bus if it meant their band gets your Friday night slot supporting Frobscottle at the Camden Monarch, there is a modicum of camerarderie among struggling bands. In comedy it's said you're only as good as your last gig. The unspoken addendum is "as a human being" If you die on your arse, literally no-one wants to even acknowledge you, lest the taint of failure rub off on them.
Also, there are lots of ways a music gig can count as good on your own terms. As a comic there is a singular metric of success, laughter, which is fed back to you in real time. And, as this blog has noted, if you're going down badly as a comic you can't Johnny Rotten it out.
Being in a band is incredibly expensive. Rehearsing, recording, petrol, repairs etc all cost a big chunk of your disposal income especially when you have the sort of shitty job where you can get away with turning up looking like shit on two hours sleep after playing an out of town gig on a weeknight. You sink every single penny you make from music and your shitty day job straight back into the band. And that's just to survive on the lowest rung of the ladder. Mounting any sort of serious assault on the slopes of success almost certainly means taking on the sort of debt that means you may never own property or retire (from your shirt day job, that is...)
Add to this, in the UK, there are no regular paying gigs for musicians playing original material. They only way to make your band even cover its own costs, let alone support you (a herculean task back when the industry was thriving, de facto impossible in the streaming era) is to build your own following from scratch in a hail of the background noise of everyone else trying to do the same. Whereas, as Caroline notes, if you're reliable at making people laugh, people will pay you to do so.
Being in a band also involves working with bandmates. Most of your bandmates will be lazy braggarts who talk endlessly about the brilliant plans they have for when they're famous but moan like spoiled children when they're expected to turn up to a rehearsal or soundcheck and put in a modicum of graft for their art. Also, most musicians like awful music, like hairdressers have awful haircuts and fashion designers wear awful clothes. That's why the backstory of almost every great band has the Avengers Assemble episode where a group of determined, like-minded people finally find each other and begin doing it properly.
That said, nearly all actual band-ing is if not fun, then rewarding: writing songs, rehearsing them into shape, performing to a venue that's anywhere near halfway full, even doing the boring bits is fun in the early days when everyone's pitching in and there's a sense of collective purpose to it.
With comedy, you're not dependent on anyone but yourself and while that's liberating after months of frantically ringing your functional alcoholic bassist's mobile voicemail on the day of gigs it's also incredibly scary because if you fail then YOU fail: no excuses, no-one else to blame, sorry bucko, you just weren't good enough (and by extension, as a human being)
Similarly, the only fun part of comedy is being onstage, doing well. Or getting hammered after gigs but that's really not a sustainable habit if you want to give comedy a proper go (or live beyond your 50s). I can only speak for myself but I used to look forward to my band gigs with excitement and anticipation and my comedy gigs with gnawing anxiety and silent entreaties to the comedy gods that 'please let this be one of the good ones.'
So, they're you go. Comedy. Music. Both awful in their own ways but you've got to do something with your life haven't you?