With clubs closed, comedians turn to Zoom and Instagram to reach audiences
Contrary to his reputation as a sage of weed-based comedy, Ngiao Bealum appears a bit shell-shocked by the events of the last couple months. Reached by Zoom in his South Natomas home, Bealum repeated “it’s just so weird” a few times.
Bealum recounts how he was in Spain when the pandemic started to disrupt American life, with multiple shows booked and a plan to stay three weeks. He had to scramble to get home, only to also see another regular gig, his pot column for the Sacramento News & Review, end when that publication halted print on March 19 after 31 years in business.
“This is the longest time I’ve gone without something to do at night in 30 years. I’ve been a comic since 1988 and had a gig once or twice a week in all that time … it’s science fiction.”
He’s managed to find a paying online booking, headlining with nationally known comedians Doug Benson and Jackie Kashian for The Nowhere Comedy club, a new venture started by comedy veterans Steve Hofstetter and Ben Gleib.
Reached via email, Gleib and Hofstetter said an online-only comedy club was a natural fit for them, since they had already been doing Facebook Live shows and virtual reality shows, respectively. Once they figured out the “long and winding road” of the technology, things took off, and they just passed their 5,000th ticket sold (tickets fall mostly in the $10-$25 range).
They have managed to figure out a kind of fix for the awkward silence of isolated comedy that you may have cringed at in the network late-night comedy shows: They mic some audience members so that audible laughter can be heard by the audience and the comics.
Comedian Johnny Taylor, who has recently been hosting a Wednesday night show for the Sacramento Punchline comedy club on Instagram Live (and garnering national headliners such as Eddie Pepitone), echoes the feeling that these online shows are definitely “a weird vibe”.
“I’ve done some Zoom shows where some of the crowd has mics on but often you get someone’s kid crying in the background or some quarantine squabble coming through, or there’s some with no audio at all so you’re just telling your jokes into the ether. It’s super hard to tell. … I could be bombing my ass off and have no idea.”
He, too, lost a summer’s worth of gigs, starting with a string of Northwest shows with Brian Posehn (“The Sarah Silverman Program,” “The Big Bang Theory”). On March 12, he flew from Sacramento to Spokane only to have Posehn tell him the gigs were canceled and to fly back that same day.
Now he’s holed up in his midtown apartment, binge-watching TV and “chain-smoking” pot. Despite losing his livelihood, Taylor’s in no hurry to imagine post-coronavirus comedy. He names a club that has reopened already in Salt Lake City and says that some in Austin, Texas, (which he considers a second comedy home) are opening with 25 percent capacity, but he supports Gov. Gavin Newsom’s caution in reopening California.
“I’m not sure what it’s going to look like and I’m not even sure if it’s smart at this point,” he said. “I think we’re all itching to get back out there and do what we do... I’d rather sit at home for two or three extra months if we can prevent people from dying.”
Becky Lynn is also in no rush for comedy clubs to reopen. Based on her fresh smile and overall glow (not a Zoom filter), the comedian is thriving in lockdown. She has used the time to write new material, including a TV pilot, and reconnect with her creativity.
“When this first happened I was kind of grateful for the break,” she said. “I was feeling a bit downtrodden just with some shows I’d been having I didn’t feel like I was finding my voice … this is a good opportunity to re-center, to remember what is was like to be a person before I did standup.”
This positive outlook is inspiring, especially since 2020 was the year where a lot of hard work was starting to pay off for Lynn. It was shaping up as her “best year in standup” after five years of paying dues. Her outlook may be due to the fact that she’s also still working a day job from home, a safety net Bealum and Taylor lack.
Still, she is also missing the human connection that clubs and open mic shows (such as those at The Comedy Spot and Luna’s Café) provide in Sacramento.
”I want to make people laugh! That’s what I miss,” she said. “I miss talking to people after shows, connecting with people, cuz now I’m just scared of people!”
Bealum also notes that laughter and applause are why he got into comedy in the first place. Online comedy will do for now, but, he says, “It’s the methadone of social interaction, it’s still a high but it’s not the same high, but let’s all get our comedy fix.”