When I was in junior high school in 2015, I would secretly stay up past midnight after I stole my parents’ Kindle and watch movies and listen to music in the dead of night. We moved to Winterset that year to a rural area with limited internet that throttled our data very quickly.
However, at midnight, for whatever reason, like a switch, the throttle turned off, allowing me to consume media at an incredibly unhealthy time of night. I never told my parents this, so when they read this, I just wanted to let them know I also think it was bad idea in retrospect.
One of the things I did was listen to comedy albums available on Spotify, which is a lost idea nowadays as comedy has moved to Netflix specials or other streaming services as a more lucrative option.
As a kid I would try to memorize the routines of these charming comedians to recite to my friends to appear cooler than I actually was, which worked as I got my first friends at a new school this way. I burned through a bunch of comedians: Brian Regan, Pete Holmes, Mitch Hedberg, Demetri Martin, John Mulaney, these names provided me with comfort in a very alienating time in my life.
My favorite comedian then (and still to this day) was Mike Birbiglia, whose shows didn’t follow the traditional comedy hour format with batches of topics, instead following a narrative which builds emotionally throughout the show. He frequently digs deep into themes of human nature, relationships and death.
Birbiglia describes his comedy shows as being born from a habit of telling uncomfortable stories. Each of his shows revolve around some aspect of himself that came into conflict with the people around him. “Sleepwalk With Me” is about his sleepwalking disorder, “My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend” about the idea of marriage and “The New One” about the birth of his daughter as a few examples.
Birbiglia’s tone is his greatest tool, mastering vocal technicalities like volume, use of deadpan, tenderness, even something simple like letting his voice shake when describing pulling glass out of his body can be moving. It’s a rare control of emotion that most comedians are fine ignoring, but in Birbiglia’s case, it elevates the show to something resonant.
“Sleepwalk With Me” and “My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend” were the two I was drawn to as a teenager, and as more specials have released over time, I found myself coming back to his stories and the way he presents himself and the ideas he talks about because it was comforting.
Chronic social features like refusing to let go of being right and somehow making awkward situations more awkward were relatable to me, and he showed a path to personal acceptance that most people would never feel comfortable sharing. For as much as Birbiglia is a part of show business, there’s a sense of genuine openness that makes the shows that much more special.
Quotes have stuck with me (”One outfit, forever!”) even past my weird obsession of memorizing them, and it taught me how to be more existential about my own actions. It gave me a love of the more emotional side of storytelling – how stories can be presented.
Birbiglia is silly still to this day, using goofy voices and physical movement even in the most embarrassing situations. There’s gold to be mined from how much he enjoys the more uncomfortable aspects of life simply because no one talks about them.
It’s this openness that truly makes Birbiglia special in a storytelling context, where ego can force an emotional shutdown especially when talking about awkward topics. Birbiglia doesn’t need to be overly crude or swear heavily to be appealing.
This week, I watched his new special “The Old Man and the Pool,” and returned to his older material seeking some nostalgia. I can’t help but forever feel comforted by an emotional maturity that no one else in the comedy space is doing. As comedy seeks to rely on old ideas of offending as many people as possible, the emotional approach in comparison is far more rewarding.
I couldn’t tell most of Birbiglia’s material to my junior high friends, and I’m embarrassed to have stolen far more talented people’s material for such a selfish reason, but those days are special to me even still. Humor can be a strong medicine during alienating times.