Join local comedy miscreants Jimmy Pardo, Paul F. Tompkins, and Jen Kirkman for the debut of You're Welcome, the self-proclaimed "Most Important Show in Show Business," at the Meta Theatre on Melrose. After the laughs subside, hit their post-party at Genghis Cohen.
An anonymous kinda fella was good enough to send along this fantastic show recap of the You’re Welcome! show from last night. It’s so great in fact, it makes our previous one look like shitty goth poetry. Enjoy.
Meta Comedy at the Meta Theater
Lineup:
Drew Droege
Jarrett Grode
Josh Fadem
Patton Oswalt
Joe Wagner
Chris Fairbanks
Brent Weinbach
Andy Kindler
You’re Welcome concluded it’s first month of shows with a bang. It’s often said that Andy Kindler is a “comedian’s comedian,” which always bugs the crap out of me because it infers that the rest of us don’t get him at all, and nothing could be further from the truth. It was appropriate that Kindler closed what ended up being a real comedy show for real comedy fans. Since there were apparently fewer a capella groups touring LA this week, the crowd was made up almost entirely of CDR regulars/junkies who enjoyed a night of “comedians’ comedy.” Patton Oswalt looked out at the crowd of diehards and remarked, “it’s a Kindler!”
Jarrett Grode did the only thing resembling an actual comedic set of prepared material, which consisted entirely of only his most racially-questionable jokes. Josh Fadem had an inspired set of intentionally awkward Kraftwerk, I mean crowd work, and Brent Weinbach amazed with his ludicrous physical inventions. Drew Droege hosted as a fetching Chloe Sevigny trying out a comedy act for the first time. Chloe’s best moments came when she did impressions based on crowd suggestions. “Isaiah Washington!” yells someone in the crowd. “You faggot!” yells Sevigny. “Hitler!” yells Kindler from the wings. “You faggot!” yells Sevigny.
Patton Oswalt was Patton Oswalt (say no more), and Joe Wagner had a set of whispered, internalized rage that segued beautifully into a moment when he ran to the fake window of the fake set of the fake Meta Theater, opened it and yelled “I’m not going to take it anymore!” Comics tonight referenced Network, the Beatles, Fibber McGee and Molly, and even the Ted Mack comedy hour and somehow the audience in 2007 ate it up (thank goodness for Kindler providing some balance with up to date YouTube and James Blunt references).
The jokes of the night were jokes about jokes. At one point Weinbach did a bit within a bit within a bit that I’m still trying to work through in my head.
So was it a comedy show, or was it a riff on a comedy show? That is the meta-question of the night. What hath Kindler and his disciples wrought with his deconstruction of the artform? Watching so many comics play with the structure and content of the standup act, it occurred to me that we in LA are a bunch of effete fucks. We laugh at comedy and we also laugh at Comedy. If that makes any sense, metaphysically. It’s a Kindler, alright. And I’m Okay With That.
There’s an Oswalt line about imagining Kindler as Ben Franklin that needs to end up on a bumper sticker, it’s so fucking great: “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and a third thing.”
Wednesday: Thank you
A newcomer on the scene, "You're Welcome," at the Meta Theatre on Melrose, began earlier this month under the guidance of comic Nadia Bacon and stand-up fan Sean Ingram. The latter is better known as "Jouster," a moderator on the increasingly prominent site A Special Thing (www.aspecialthing.com), dedicated to shining a light on underground and alternative comedy. A Special Thing's name is in the air at many of the week's shows, but "You're Welcome" is the 24-year-old Ingram's first venture into production.
"I go to a lot of shows and always thought the talent was here, but the shows sometimes weren't good, like maybe they were poorly attended or had poor acoustics," Ingram explains. With Bacon's contacts, putting on a show of their own was the next natural step.
Though mostly promoted through A Special Thing and MySpace, "You're Welcome's" debut fills up quickly with vintage-clad twentysomethings, so many that an extra row of seats has to be added at the front of the stage. The promise of free beer can't have hurt, but the reverent audience is serious about its comedy.
Though younger acts such as guerrilla sketch troupe Hendershaw give the crowd plenty to laugh about, it's Largo vets Jimmy Pardo and Paul F. Tompkins who steal the show. Acting as the night's host, Pardo pulls much of his material from the audience, lecturing a woman in the front for text-messaging during his set one minute, ardently appreciating a nearby man's sweater vest the next. By the time headliner Tompkins takes the stage, the crowd is ready to follow anywhere he leads.
At the start of Tompkins' set, he and Pardo pause to interview each other on the stage's well-worn couch, goofing off and comparing notes, seemingly oblivious to the hysterical crowd. After a few minutes, Tompkins finally catches himself: "Does this interest anyone?" he asks. The entire room erupts with applause.
