Bringing and Barking: The Comedian’s Scylla and Charybdis

I’m in my sophomore year of comedy and I’m in a bit of an odd position. For some reason, younger comics are asking me how to get ahead in the game and I in turn am asking seasoned comedians about how to move along. The answers I keep giving and receiving boil down to this. There are two Greek tragedies that 99% of new comedians have to face: bringing and barking.

Barking is the comic’s Charybdis. It involves a comedian standing on a street corner and cat-calling potential patrons, not unlike a prostitute. He now has to spend upwards of 2 hours dealing with hundreds of people walking by him who are alternately annoyed and harried and don’t have the time or energy to listen to you talk up a comedy show that he and a bunch of people they’ve never heard of are a part of. The constant street rejections sucks him into a vortex of self-doubt and rage that is nigh impossible to swim out of. By the time he makes it to the stage, he’s so pissed off that he rarely gets a chance to perform at his peak.

Bringing is the comic’s Scylla. This involves a comedian begging his friends, family, exes, old teachers, co-workers, and classmates from elementary to pay $40 to see him perform. Now this comedian has slightly resentful people in a room with other equally resentful acquaintances of the other comics. He now has to perform in front of a multi-headed attitudinal mass of strangers unwilling to listen to you or entertain your opinions because they were dragged to an expensive club. The comedian then realizes that he has brought in $300 worth of business that he will never see. And the multi-headed monster harps on about how overpriced the show was, how overrated the performers were, and how rude the wait-staff acted.

The major question is “Are these routes worth it?” The short answer is “I don’t know.” Considering the fact that most fledgling comedians end up not getting passed at a club in this way, I would say “No.” Considering the fact that it is a foot in the door provided you talk to the right people, I would say “Yeah, maybe once.” There are small advantages to both.

Barking lets a comic flex his creativity muscles and teaches him how to sell himself in 20 seconds or less. Personal example: I now know I can sing in a high falsetto as well as a deep alto about why a passerby should pay to see me perform. And I can do it to the tune of Beethoven’s No 9. Also, most clubs are fond of good barkers. By barking, a comic can potentially get up 6 times a week in front of a live audience (which is a vast improvement on doing open mics in the city, which may have at best 1 real audience member).

Bringing is a great self-esteem boost if the comic’s material is strong enough and if he can work a room (even one with an embittered crowd). As long as he does well, he will receive praise from his peers and water-cooler bragging rights for a week.

A comic’s mileage may vary with either choice but remember that comedy is an odyssey and like Odysseus, a comedian has to choose what to sacrifice, either his friends or his dignity. I can’t make a preference choice for anyone, but for all the young ladies and gentleman out there, whatever route you take, make sure you don’t lose the whole boat in the struggle to negotiate the two evils.