Change text size

Larger Smaller

Click to close

view 4 images :: enlarge

David Schendlinger performs at the Comedy Club. - Kris Ugarriza

print  ::  comment

loading ratings...

related links

• Funny or not, here they are: Regular comedy acts around Madison

The Madison stand-up comedy scene sometimes seems more like a drama than a comedy: petty disputes, politicking, and an ideological divide over censorship.

It also has rumbles of a thriving scene on the brink. Out of a core group of about 20 Madison comics performing in a handful of venues, a few are booking new venues and plotting new endeavors. In human development years, comic David Freeman reckons, the scene is about 18 -- "College age, very impressionable, just looking for something to do."

A longtime comic in the Madison area, Freeman, 34, is now focusing on organizing and hosting shows that open up Madison audiences to underground comedy. He recently started shows at The Frequency and the Brink Lounge.

"We're on the track of creating a whole new trend," said Freeman, who has a day job as a special education teacher in the Madison schools. "Underground comedy is real and it's the truth. It's First Amendment with jokes."

Nick Mortensen, voted Madison's funniest comedian in 2005, also recently started a biweekly show called "ComedySlut" at The Frequency and is planning a major monthly stand-up event at the Majestic Theatre to start in November.

Clubbed

Both Freeman and Mortensen say they want to provide an alternative to the Comedy Club, Madison's only venue devoted solely to stand-up comedy, which they criticize as being too rigid and too focused on the bottom line. The club has been successful enough that it moved into a larger venue this week at 202 State St. and has tentative plans to add a night focused solely on local comedy.

The club is a point of contention among local comics: Some love it, some say "it is what it is," and others actively boycott it. The four comics that Mortensen invited to perform at the first ComedySlut quit the following week, partly because they didn't want to be associated with Mortensen's vocal criticism of the Comedy Club and partly because they felt his onstage heckling of one comic was too mean.

Mortensen is undeterred by the mutiny, and the 30-year-old Green Bay native even sees it as a sign of bigger things to come (his ultimate goal is to get on HBO for a one-hour comedy show). Above all, he's done with comedy clubs and is happy with the other outlets he already has.

In general, comedy clubs have a stigma attached to them. Most sprung up in the '80s when stand-up was booming, and they soon gained a reputation for being sleazy joints. The stereotype is the club that operates as a money-laundering front for the cocaine trade, has a corny name like Crackers or Giggles, and is located in a run-down Dubuque or Appleton strip mall next to a nail salon.

Comics often joke about the B-circuit stand-ups that these clubs attract: recently divorced middle-aged men who break out a well-oiled repertoire of Bill Clinton jokes and dream of finding "rebirth" through a career in comedy, as 25-year-old chemist/comic Sean Moore puts it.

But even its critics say the Comedy Club, located on State Street since the late '80s, is better than the average club. The criticism leveled against it has more to do with its alleged censorship and lack of support for the local scene.

The Comedy Club books none of its talent itself, instead using a Michigan-based agency to organize all the booking. All headliners and features are touring acts, though several Madison comics who made it big nationally have stopped by on tour, like Nathan Craig, Randy Chestnut and Kevin Bozeman. Local comics can host on the weekends or fill four 4-minute slots on Thursday nights. Madison comics compete for those slots with comics from Chicago and Milwaukee.

Comedy Club manager Joe Buettner auditions local talent and gives all live performances a letter grade, which he then reports back to Funny Business, the agency in Michigan.

"If they don't do very well, they might get a C or C minus," he said. If the comic doesn't grade well, the likelihood of him or her getting booked within two to three years is low because Funny Business has a long waiting list of comics who want to get into the Comedy Club. "Comics love performing here. This is one of the top five clubs in the country," Buettner said.

Local comics might soon get more stage time at the Comedy Club. Buettner said he is pushing for the club to add an extra night on Wednesday that features local talent only.

Mortensen said at least a couple of the local comics are good enough to headline or feature, but by limiting time for locals, the club sends the message that they're not good enough. "This is a college town with some legitimately rich talent that's not getting advanced. (Local comics) really feel like they're bread-and-buttered pretty good with that five-minute slot they get once every six weeks in the rotation," he said.

"It's really hard to get into the Comedy Club," agreed Mark Kump, 29. He and other comics used to perform two times a month, and now they're lucky if they can get in, he said. NBC's reality show "Last Comic Standing" created "this surge of stand-ups."

Kump said he's happy to have the Comedy Club as an outlet, but he's more into making online comic sketch videos with a few other local comics under the name "Rhymes with Stomach."

What's in vogue in comedy these days isn't stand-up, but awkward "found comedy" (think "Borat," "The Office" or investigative reports by "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart") that works better on video than live onstage, according to Kump.

"If you're shooting a video, it allows you a lot more freedom to what you can do. There's probably just as many people doing videos as doing stand-up."

Keep it clean

Freeman last performed at the Comedy Club eight years ago, after he was put on probation for going over the time limit. He doesn't want to get caught up in the politics of waiting for stage time, and he likes the freedom of underground comedy.

"The only time I was censored was when I was at comedy clubs," he said. "They just want to sell drinks. They want you to tell jokes that are Seinfeld-type jokes -- you know, 'I was in the bathroom. What's up with the toilet paper, man?' I'm not dissing Seinfeld, but it's safe."

At comedy clubs, he added, "you're going to get what's watered down because people are going to be afraid to say what's on their mind. It's almost like you gotta crack a joke and then look at your lawyer."

Buettner said he doesn't censor, though he advises local comics to cut the vulgarity because dirty jokes are easy, and crafting clean jokes is a good skill to learn. Besides, he added, "you never want to be as dirty as the headliner. Never." Abortion jokes don't really fly either, he said.

Abortion jokes seem pretty standard at open mics, but many comics around Madison say they don't mind cleaning things up for the Comedy Club crowd because they're grateful for the time in front of a big audience.

"If you can get a crowd to really be into your set, eating it up, that's pretty much the best feeling ever," said Chris Waelti, 22, a frequent host at open mics and at the Comedy Club.

Others say what defines "clean" and "dirty" is pretty fluid.

"What we've all figured out through practice and working in front of those audiences a lot is that you can say anything you want, as long as you say it correctly," said Mike Schmidt, a 28-year-old criminal defense attorney. "Everyone has an abortion joke. That's a topic that's quite polarizing, and if you batter through it, and all you're trying to get across is that abortion is funny, it'll probably die the same death that any bad jokes dies. You don't get free laughs just because something's shocking."

Vulgarity is on its way out anyway, according to Jeff Hahn, who started doing stand-up in Madison about nine months ago. He "was raised with a different set of values" in Alaska and grew up watching "Seven Dirty Words" comedian George Carlin as well as Mike Warnke, a Christian comedian. "America as a whole is realizing that morality is out the window, and we're scrambling to get it back," he said.

In general, local comics experiment with their material -- how far they can go, and what's the funniest way to get there -- at open mics at Azzalino's. The Comedy Club is the place to showcase their best, most practiced jokes.

Which doesn't mean that the comedy at the open mic is necessarily worse -- the hit-to-miss ratio may be higher, but the sense of experimentation and risk-taking provides its own enjoyment. The bigger audiences are at open mics, the better the workshopping is for the comics. Local comic Adam Waldron said that for audiences, just "showing up is an investment into the quality of the comedy."

But stand-up in and of itself is good for audiences, said Hahn: "It's like chocolate cake. I think it's good for you and good for your soul."