A primer on our blooming comedy scene
by Clint Casey
To a recent Knoxville transplant, our little city by the river might seem like the land of milk and ha-ha. Comedy is thriving. Despite a drought of jokes, laughs and punchlines in recent years, there have been no less than 12 shows here in the last week. With the relocation of the Comedy Zone to West Knoxville, the weekly Open Mic Night at O’Charleys on the Strip and national acts performing at the Bijou and the Civic Auditorium, comedy seems on the rise.
Steve Kaine, a local comedian and former emcee at the Open Mic Night at O’Charley’s attributes the developing comedy scene to the cable network Comedy Central. “People see [stand up comedy] on TV and are trying to get out and give it a try. But these are also tough times; maybe people just need to laugh.”
Leanne Morgan, a national headlining comedienne who recently moved back to Knoxville from Texas, offers another opinion. “I think that a lot of clubs aren’t doing well because of Comedy Central, and the fact that people just like to stay in. After 9/11, I think that there was a drop, but things seen to be picking up. Knoxville is a large city, and I think that it can hold comedy.” She further suggests that the “awakening” is due to the success of Jeff Foxworthy’s Blue Collar Comedy Tour and the increase in the number of Southern comics that rely on storytelling rather than one-liners.
“I think that people are tired of the “F” word,” Morgan says. “It was funny with Richard Pryor, but when you have smart, working people paying $12 a ticket, they don’t want to hear that. I sound like some grandmother that thinks MTV is evil...which I do.” Morgan, 38, will appear with Etta May and Karen Mills in Southern Fried Chicks at the Bijou on April 2.
Promoted as “The Funniest Man in America,” James Gregory has had exposure on the nationally syndicated radio programs John Boy and Billy and Bob and Tom. Gregory concurs that the comedy industry is finding a happy medium between supply and demand.
“I don’t want to sound pretentious, but because I’m on the radio, I sell out most shows,” he says following a recent Bijou Theatre performance. “There was a time when there were four or five comedy clubs in every city, and it was too much. There weren’t enough comedians to go around. Clubs went out of business. I don’t think that a city can handle more than one or two clubs.”
As with any performing art, there drawbacks to expressing yourself live in front of an audience. Jazz E, a local comedian, mentions hecklers as an occupational challenge. “I get heckled at every show,” he says. “It’s a male thing for some strange reason. Whoever is the alpha male in the room has to speak up,” he says. “I had a horrible, disastrous show in Morristown on New Year’s Eve. The crowd was drunk and rowdy, and I had someone physically grab me off the stage, get on the mic, and curse me.”
Regardless of the risks, comedians willingly subject themselves to scrutinizing criticism. With proper preparation the negative possibilities are heavily outweighed with rewards of laughter. “You want so badly to please people. It’s a lot of pressure. If it doesn’t go over well, you feel bad for yourself and the people paying their money,” says Morgan, a mother of three who lives in Morristown and has appeared on ABC’s The View. “I’m not a perfectionist about anything except my routine. I don’t know why we get on stage. You only want people to like you and accept you. When I’m on stage it feels like a serotonin high, and if it goes well it’s an even better high. I’ve never really been good at anything except having kids, breastfeeding and comedy.”
Every Thursday, O’Charley’s on the Strip hosts an open mic night for comedic hopefuls. The usual crowd is dominated by students—an audience that prefers traditionally blue humor. As if she herself has played this very audience, Morgan anticipates their needs: “Students only want to hear about smoking weed and having sex, and that’s exactly the [material] I don’t do. Twenty-year-old boys are my hardest audience. For people my age, it’s all we can do to get to Wal-Mart once a week.”
Paul Simmons of local comedy troupe Einstein Simplified adds to her student-crowd concern, “You can’t hear the comedians, and the audience isn’t appreciative unless they’re in class with whoever’s on stage.”
Sarah McClune, a local disc jockey, is a sometime participant and comedy enthusiast. Her approach is more aggressive than traditional. “First of all, I’m not going to stand on the damn stage,” she snarled one recent Thursday night as she stepped on stage, grabbed the mic and dove off into the crowd, criticizing audience members.
McClune is also an emcee at the Comedy Zone in West Knoxville. “I went down there the first night that they were open. I was just having beers at the bar and stayed around after they closed,” she says. “I told them that I have all these CDs, DVDs and comedy books, and they told me to get up on stage. I stood up there, and they liked my stage presence.”
The Comedy Zone nightclub chain started in 1982 in Charlotte, N. Car. Their formula for longevity in the competitive national market is to pay whatever price it takes to draw top comedians. After years of searching for an ideal Knoxville location, owner Brian Heffron found a building off of Cedar Bluff. “A lot of factors need to be in order before we pick a location. Sometimes we’ll find the right building but not enough parking. We look at population density and accessibility off of the Interstate, and it must be a safe neighborhood. We’re tremendously excited to be there. I can’t think of a better town.”
The crowd at the Comedy Zone is a diverse cross-section—black, white, young, and old—but the average age hovers around 40. “You have to figure out who they are and what they want,” local comedian Steve Kaine says. Booking agents schedule comedians in the club to remove some of the guesswork.
“We have a screening process where we send guys out across the country, and we hand pick the all the comics that come to Knoxville,” says talent agent Joel Pace. “At the end of every show, we have report cards, and people rate which comics that they like.”
Aside from a finicky audience and the challenge of developing a routine, comedians face other stumbling blocks. Being a woman is one of them, says Morgan. “If you’re remotely attractive, women get mad if their husband or boyfriend laughs. They say, ‘What are you laughing at? Are you laughing because she’s pretty?’ People are intimidated by an attractive female comic. The ones who make it are usually unattractive. Anyone can laugh at a man and no one’s going to get jealous.”
In contrast, Einstein Simplified has been entertaining crowds with its distinct brand of improvisational comedy for 10 years. The troupe offers a different experience with every show. “We take 20 games and fuel those with suggestions from the audience,” charter member Simmons says. Performing every Tuesday at Patrick Sullivan’s, Simmons says of the growth of comedy locally, “We finally pushed them enough that they had to compete with us.”
Inspiration is different for every comic and can come from any number of sources. “I stick to topics with an ideological background,” Jazz E says. “Mostly, I just feed of off friends. If I get a big laugh from them, I’ll write it down, or I’ll literally steal material from them.”
Morgan prefers to draw material from her family. “My husband and kids are all I know, my darling. Evidently, my appeal is that people can relate to me, and it just so happens that I’m a character in myself,” she says. “I look like a soccer mom. I am Southerner, and I use colloquialisms.”
There is a difference of opinion on the growing abundance of comedy in Knoxville. “Knoxville is trying to grow, and people are seeing that. It’s not like the city doesn’t need comedy shows,” Simmons says. While Jazz E suggests, “The climate of ‘country’ lends itself well to comedy right now.”
Whatever the current state of affairs, for some the times are always tough and lend themselves to laughter. During crisis, people need an escape rather a reminder of their problems, social or otherwise. Laughter may seem like the best medicine post-9/11, but it’s always served as a distraction and a salve. It’s good to know that Knoxville has yet another creative outlet and real art form to help in temporarily forgetting the trials and tribulations of everyday life.
March 11, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 11
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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