The fact that Mitch Hedberg died of a drug OD in 2005 makes some of the jokes on this album a little creepy and sad. The loss of this genuinely creative and actually funny comedian is tragic, because there are far too few truly funny comedians around. His jokes had no agenda; he just played with the idea about what comedy was, and brought the audience along for the ride.
Dave Attell's raunchy, no-holds-barred humor isn't for those easily offended. In fact, more often than not Attell will let an outrageous punch line fly and then slyly ask, "Oh, was that over the line?" So if a joke about having sex with your cousin, various animals or the Amish is your type of thing, Dave Attell is your man.
Like a less disturbing but equally adept Dave Attell, Todd Barry traffics in a barrage of traditionally constructed jokes that reveal a taste for left-of-center punch lines. Delivered in a laid-back, conversational tone that belies his acerbic viewpoint, his set rolls past easily with at least a chuckle at the end of every routine, if not an outright laugh. Super Crazy is Barry's fourth album, and shows that he's an able stand-up; a big draw is simply in watching (or listening) to him work, but you also get the distinct impression that he's as funny offstage as he is on.
Silverman is so adept at tying culture and politics into a Gordian knot of post-modern irony and non sequitur ridiculousness that it's easy to forget she's a fairly traditional entertainer. Which is where Jesus Is Magic comes into play. The soundtrack to her 2005 film, it's a one-woman show of songs, skits and stand-up that speak to her multi-faceted (and all too outré) talents. She's a great storyteller in particular, the best example being "Racist?," a faux-confessional about a failed relationship that devolves into satirical commentary on Mexicans, African Americans and, of course, Jews.
The brilliance of Louis C.K. is how effortlessly he can put everyone (especially himself) in their place. He makes light of death, divorce, "white people problems." He reminds us how good we really have it, how miraculous such phenomena as airplanes and cell phones are and how unappreciative we are of it all. (Next time someone complains about their cell, quote this: "Give it a second; is the speed of light too slow for you?) He says the things we all wish we could say ("When people are boring I want to kill them, and that's not fair"), and without a doubt deserves the title "hilarious."
Super dry and devastatingly insightful, Tig Notaro is an adept stand-up comic as equally effective with telling stories as delivering a razor-sharp punchline. Good One, released in 2011, is her first record and finds her mostly playing an incredulous straight man surrounded by idiocy, and it really works. In 2012, Notaro was diagnosed with breast cancer, and a live set she performed at an L.A. club shortly after announcing she was ill quickly became the stuff of legends, with the Hollywood comedy elite counting it among the best stand-up sets they'd ever seen.
When standup star Joe Rogan turns screechy ("Pulling Out Doesn't Work"), he channels Sam Kinison; when he dips into satire via caricature ("Dr. Phil and His Sh*tty Advice"), it's Bill Hicks. But make no mistake: Dude is a true original, a trash-talking, East Coast goombah in love with psychedelics and mixed martial arts who is far smarter and more radical than he seems. And like his hero, Hunter S. Thompson, he's a moralist at heart, one dropping wonderful nuggets of truth, like the bit towards the end of his set equating zoos with prisons and how humans are deluded if they think otherwise.
Oswalt may be the funniest and most incisive comic of his generation, and this second concert album further makes the case. Because he's received markedly increased exposure since his last comedy release, some of these jokes may sound familiar -- although his send up of KFC's Famous Bowls never gets old ("America has spoken -- 'Pile my food in a f*cking bowl!'"). Sharp as ever, the new material includes rants about stuff like getting fat, hanging with Brian Dennehy, marriage, kids and Cirque du Soleil, which is "wet and French and gay and on fire all at the same time!" Good stuff.
The comedian's third proper album, Unwanted Thoughts Syndrome is highlighted by Bamford's genius-level talent for voices that range from hilarious to genuinely creepy (her Baby Jesus is memorable), and impersonations of various family members. Bamford's jokes often veer off into completely bizarre territory and are almost always geared toward storytelling rather than the more traditional joke-centric standup style. Bamford is one of the most creative and inarguably funny comedians in the Patton Oswalt-style "cool-kid" crew, and as such, brings legitimacy to that scene.
Birbiglia's third album, Sleepwalk With Me Live, is also, in book form, a New York Times Bestseller as well as an intended film. A showcase of Birbiglia's self-deprecating humor, in which he puts the focus on humanity through the hilarity found in everyday life. His discussion of a brush with death (a malignant tumor in his bladder) makes you think as much as chuckle. Birbiglia is the rare comic that can go into serious territory without losing the most important part -- the laughs.
Recorded a year before his death, Midlife Vices is the set that was, unfortunately, Giraldo's only Comedy Central special. Featuring the comic's double-barreled talents for non-gimmicky ranting and hilarious confessionals, Midlife Vices charges over the listener with equal parts pinpoint political insight and flagrant offensiveness. No matter how offensive Giraldo gets, however, the punch lines always land and there is no question he is both intelligent and highly adept as a comedian. He somehow gets away with talking about being sexually attracted to koala bears.
"I go onstage and it's like I'm leading you into battle," explains deadbeat hero Doug Stanhope. "You're not all going to be here in the end... eventually, I'm going to hit a subject that you're going to be queer about." Indeed, the guy is one of stand-up's most relentlessly graphic practitioners. Case in point: disgustingly surreal talk about sex with an "under-developed" two-headed woman giving way to a confrontational harangue about post-911 "hero p*ssy." That said, there's more to his battle metaphor. Stanhope is so honest, unswerving and intelligent that you can't help but to follow him.
Bill Burr's barrage of incredulous sarcasm is a welcome return. This live set finds the Massachusetts-bred stand-up/actor delivering an hour of uncomplicated, un-theoretical humor. Burr is often called a "comedian's comedian," but thankfully his routines are not a conceptual statement about comedy or the construction of jokes; he's just funny. That's not to say Burr traffics in comedy for dummies; it's just that his social insights are so below the surface that you only get glimpses into his high level of intelligence.
Outsider comedian Rick Shapiro is a cyclone of vitriolic insight delivered in a machine-gun spray of cartoon voices and damaged characters. If Robin Williams had ever been a heroin-addicted male prostitute and Denis Leary were even more pissed off -- and the two of them had sired and then abandoned a baby Mel Blanc -- the product may have come close to this Tasmanian Devil of unhinged stream-of-consciousness semi-comedy. Once a hilarious regular on Louie C.K.'s brilliant but short-lived HBO sitcom Lucky Louie, Shapiro is every bit as outta hand as his onstage persona.
Initially offered as a $5 download similar to albums from Louis C.K., Jim Gaffigan, Bill Maher and others, Dangerously Delicious remains an excellent deal, as Ansari's ultra-personable set is not a lot different from hanging out with the funniest person you know as they tell you about their day. Occasionally Ansari will deftly throw in a gag (that always works), but the majority of his material is real observations of others', and his own, stupidity. A refreshingly uncool "cool" comedian, Ansari is at his best when he tells stories about life among celebrities ("50 Cent Grapefruit Story").
