When to Trust an Audience

You spend many nights performing your material. You need to know what's funny and what's not, and you've learned that the only way to find out is to try it in front of an audience. That's the first lesson in comedy.

One night, you get up on stage and try out a bunch of new material. You're not all that impressed with the audience response. You get off the stage, see someone you know, make eye contact, shake hands, and he tells you, "Hey, you did great." You're thinking, Really? I was planning to ditch that material and try something else, but if he thought it was great...

Ditch the material.*

You need to know what works, but there are times when an audience will lie to you. Have you ever gone to see your friend's band, perhaps performing for their first time? Did you tell them they were great, even though you'd rather be getting a root canal, because the Muzak is more appealing? This guy's doing the same thing. He's not trying to hurt you, in fact he's trying to help you. But he may be inadvertently harming your future comedy. Social pressure is the cause, and you have to keep it from affecting your act.

But if you can't trust an audience, then how can you ever know what's funny? The answer is, you can trust an audience. Sometimes. Here are some guidelines that I am coming up with as I write:

1. If someone goes out of their way, even a little bit, to compliment you, you can usually trust that. Any email, instant message, or text message, if unexpected and unaccompanied by another purpose (like asking for a favor), can usually be trusted. A stranger that walks across a crowded room to shake your hand can be trusted.
2. Someone who compliments you publicly, like posting on a forum, broadcasting an email, announcing on national TV, whatever, is staking her reputation. She can be trusted.
   
3. Anyone with something to gain by you being happy, like a business partner, cannot be trusted.
4. Some people are more trustable than others. Does this person compliment everybody? If you've never heard him compliment anybody before, then either he's hitting on you (see #2), or you've really done something good. Putting this rule in poker terms, respect the raise of a tight player.
5. If someone tells you that anything about your set sucked, then unless they're trying to pick a fight, they're telling the truth.
6. Anybody who's worked in a club for more than a few months knows what works, and generally will not lie. Trust them, even though they may fall into the #2 category.
7. If an audience is laughing during your set, trust it. If an audience is silent, they may still be having a good time, you don't really know (and you may want to ditch your material for some conversation). If an audience is leaving, you're sucking.
   

I'm bringing this up because I've gotten some very positive feedback from Spite Club. Friends I saw after the show said they really enjoyed it. I appreciate that, but I won't use it as information. I got an instant message out of the blue from my friend Kent, who said, "By the way, in case I forgot to mention it last night, I thought you did great." Okay, I must have left a very good impression. If I had sucked, and he had forgotten to compliment me that night, I'm sure he wouldn't have gone out of his way to lie the next day.

But I think the kicker has been that the host, John Rabon, broadcast an email, and then posted on the Velveeta Forum that Todd and I both kicked ass. That's awesome. He's not lying.

Conclusion: I honestly had a great Spite Club. What should I do now? These steps, in order:

1. Pat myself on the back.
2. Feel good for a moment.
3. Get it out of my head and do more writing.

Hope this helps.

--Dan


* Actually, you should only ditch the material after it has failed two out of three times, according to Austin comedy legend J. R. Brow. I agree. But for the sake of argument, say this was the second time you tried the material, after it had failed once.