Last night I performed on a show at Skully's, a music venue in Columbus, Ohio. I was invited to do the show by Mike Twice--a drummer in the Columbus-based band, Forest & the Evergreens (which, sidenote, is a great band that is totally worth checking out).
The show was Mike Twice's birthday show. The show had 5 bands on the bill and myself, doing comedy. The show, from the audience point of view I had taken most of the night, was a lot of fun. Good music, good friends, overpriced-yet-refreshing booze--all the things that make live performance a good time.
Around midnight-ish, Forest & the Evergreens closed out their set to a very happy crowd, and following their performance, Mike, the drummer and birthday boy, took the mic to announce that I would be coming up next to do a little comedy before the last band of the evening. Awesome. While I was nervous to take on a crowd of people so rocked by music, when all I could offer them was a man talking, I was intrigued by the overall positive energy of the room.
I walked over to the stage, told the guys in the band great job, and the singer/guitarist asked me if I wanted to just go up now. I said sure, let's just do it. He said he'd bring me.
He didn't want to let a performer go up cold. Good man.
I took the stage. The crowd was a little sparse as it is generally the in between band rule of thumb to grab a beer, piss, and/or smoke in that gap. Also, the now musicless room lent itself to some chatter among people still in the show area. I started off with some jokes that lent themselves to a little bit of audience interaction. I figured this could draw people in/make them aware that something was even happening on stage. It went fine. A few people turned toward the stage. A few people even drew closer, maybe to hear what I had to say, but probably just to support the guy up there that was trying his damnedest to squeeze some entertainment value out of the 10 minutes of stage time he was graciously given.
Around the time my mental clock hit the 8 minute mark, I figured I'd tell one more joke, thank the crowd, and then yield to the last band of the evening. A little over halfway through my final quip, a man came up on the stage--he came in from the side, where the acts walk up, so I didn't see him until he was about right next to me--unplugged the XLR cable from the base of the mic (it was just sitting in the stand at this point) and then turned around and left.
I was pretty confused. I assumed maybe a pushy staff member who was trying to shut the bar down before last call. But honestly, I didn't really know what happened. I, non-amplified, yelled out a thank you to the crowd and left the stage. I walked off from the stage to groups of people that were shocked and angry--frankly, more angry than me at the time. I was informed that it was not a staff member, but a bassist from one of the bands on the show, that unplugged my mic and scurried away.
I have to say, I was pretty dumbfounded.
First, the obvious thing that you're probably thinking while reading this, and that I'm sure most of the people in the audience were thinking watching this. Dick move. It's straight up should-have-learned-that-in-kindergarten rude to do something like that. Also, who are you, who is anybody, to take on the decision of the group that we are not listening to this anymore--even if that group is 15-20 people? Who gave you that right? And who are you to think that you'd ever have that right?
But really, the only thing that really bothers me is who it is. Another artist.
Someone that knows what it's like to go up on stage in front of people. And then bare your insides to said people. Someone of the performance brethren. For someone like that to engage in an act of such blatant, and cowardice, censorship is maddening.
And the joke I was engaging in wasn't even anything controversial. It was about unemployment. Now, I guess any joke that touches on a social issue could sway towards controversy given the right ear to fall upon, but, while newish, I have been telling this joke for about a month now. It has, from inception, been a solid-hitter that quickly made its way into my rotation and has done exceedingly well in front of at least a dozen separate audiences.
But that's really not the point is it? I only say the above to illustrate that I was not ranting or raving in the realm of rape, homophobia, racism, or some other harder to justify topic subgroup. The point is, it doesn't matter what I was saying. We, as artists, have been fighting for the right to say what we want, what we think is important, for the length of our existence. People have been sued, jailed, and even killed for that right. And for that right to be infringed upon by someone who benefits daily from those sacrifices is sickening.
And by the bassist from a metal band no less. You could only be selling out more if you ripped out that mic cable while doing a Bud Light commercial.
I don't want to venture into the hyperbolic, but I just want to assert the point that this is inexcusable. I've had bad shows in my over 6 years of comedy. Some really bad. Some life questioning bad. That happens. I'm not mad because I had a bad show. I'm not mad that the loss of amplification destroyed a joke I love as it was building to fruition in front of an audience. I've had all that stuff happen to me--and more. I've built quite a sloped shoulder over the years that allows for most all things to roll right off of it. But the subtext. Artist on artist censorship. That's what's frustrating. That's what's regrettable. That's what's worth writing about.
I assume that this bassist probably has written or performed material that people did not care for. I'm even more sure that at some point he's likely been quite shitty at his craft as most artists, including myself, are in the beginning. But I'm also quite sure that no one has ever yanked the cord out of his amp while he was doing this. Because no one has the right to do that.
On two positive notes to close: Thanks to the audience that night. I have to admit, through hecklers and even just the antagonistically ambivalent, audiences are usually the ones I'm doing battle with from time to time. But the crowd that night was not only nice enough to listen to me while on stage, they were nice enough to come to my defense after the incident and encourage me in my future. I even handed out a few business cards to people I hope to see out at future shows around the city. If there's anything a bassist in a metal band should know, it's that when your parents tell you you shouldn't be listening to something, that's when you want to hear it even more.
And of course, thanks to Mike, and the whole F&tE crew for having me out. I still had a great night overall and you guys killed it as usual.
And yes, more than anything, I really just want to call that guy a cunt. Still a comic. ;) Wink.
