Greg AckermanOpinion

Austin Comedy: Inside the exploding new Austin scene

Editor’s note: Today’s story on the exploding Austin comedy scene comes from our opinionated and talented friend, Robert Dean who has been immersed in the local comedy scene since it began morphing into the “Third Coast of Comedy” last year. Dean’s work has appeared in Consequence of Sound, The Austin-American Statesman and countless other national and local publications. Find him online here.

If there’s any phrase that’s ubiquitous to the Austin lexicon, it’s, “man, you never saw the old Austin.” No matter when you moved to town, someone who’s lived here longer than you will mention this. I should know. I’m guilty of it, too. I remember when the east side still had sketchy, unpaved parking lots, murder warehouses, and garden centers. Now, we’ve got places that sell artisanal fucking tacos dusted with pig eyelashes that equal the cost of a tank of premium gas. The old Austin is this thing of lore, though. It’s become canonized, this precious time when houses were cheap, and Willie Nelson stood on the street corners handing out joints to every man, woman, and child. But the post-pandemic Austin, whatever this place is evolving into, it’s an entirely new beast – one with “gourmet” hot dogs, but it’s also funny.

Everyone on the planet knows we’re the magical, cool, cowboy city, wrapped in the bumper sticker phrase of “The Live Music Capital of the World.” Live music is our thing. It’s what built this city, one shit kicker at a time. When we get shows happening in full force again, it’ll be fantastic for the soul to hear the twang of pedal steel drifting down Congress Avenue. I can’t wait to have one too many cold Lone Star beers in a packed Mohawk, which will be nothing short of a dripping wet, Christ-like orgy of good timin’ (with or without the lube. We’re not here to judge your kink.) But, as we’ve crawled out of the universal hell that was the coronavirus pandemic, Austin became the centerpiece to a boom no one saw coming: Joe Rogan, the hugely popular comic and podcast host, moved to town, and with him came the clown car. Almost overnight, some of the genre’s biggest names left Los Angeles and New York for the fresh, new, fertile soil of Texas’ capital city. 

When things were normal, we were not a comedy hot spot. Yes, we’ve got the tunes, tacos, and pretty girls in sundresses and cowboy boots. When it came to comedy, Austin had Cap City, the Moontower Comedy Festival, and whatever headliner could carry a big room like the Paramount Theater. We had a few open mics that dotted the landscape, but those who showed up were usually slugging along an acoustic guitar rather than jokes about poignant emotional pain. 

                         

Today in Austin, comedy is everywhere. From Creek & Cave to Sunset Strip, the Green Jay (formerly Beerland and much nicer now, btw), Dave Chappelle, and Rogan did a string of sold-out shows at Stubbs. Vulcan Gas Company has evolved into Austin’s version of the legendary Comedy Store out in Los Angeles. Rogan recently announced his purchase of the One World Theater, which will become a destination for his legion of fans, while more clubs are planned in this once vacuous comedy landscape. What Austin has acquired, out of the blue, is adding a new layer of artistry to the complex ecosystem of creatives looking to make their mark. 

New transplant, Trevor Keveloh has been hitting the stages, working the rooms and booking shows all over town, “I believe this is the third coast. It makes too much sense being in the middle of the country, but this city and how it operates feels uniquely different than either LA or New York.” And he’s not wrong, considering Austin revolves on its own weird, (for Texas) wobbly axis. We don’t care about what’s happening in California, and we’re better off for it, considering this scene is built on folks actually being funny rather than trying to huff the ass fumes from agents and managers slithering their way through LA’s comedy scene, looking for fresh meat to chop up and serve on basic cable. “When I lived in LA, I saw a lot of comics who deserved a shot get passed over for the wrong reasons. Here, the comics who deserve to rise, are getting the love and respect they need and it’s awesome.”

The Green Jay
The Green Jay bar courtesy of Yelp Austin

While COVID cases shoot skyward and fall, people are nonetheless getting vaccinated. Things are being put into perspective. The comedy scene has made the socially and emotionally disastrous pandemic easier to swallow. We’re collectively sick of wearing masks, standing six feet apart, not hearing live music, and we’re sick of people dying. Culturally, we’re over everything. Hearing a trained moral assassin like David Lucas or Tony Hinchcliffe rip the entire situation apart with their signature sardonic wit and lightning-fast hot takes acts as the nourishing salve we didn’t know we needed. For months, we were trapped in the house, our streets nationwide were silent, and all we were doing was keeping our local liquor stores and Porn Hub in the black. Big Laugh Comedy CEO Brandon Lewin has been booking shows at Vulcan Gas Company while expanding the brand’s reach into San Antonio as well, “comedy has arrived in Texas. A comic can book a tour and hit five or six cities in the same state, all within driving distance, while making this their home base. I love what we’re seeing and experiencing right now. This is the golden age and we’ve got a front row seat to seeing Austin turn into a serious comedy destination.”

The people are coming to the shows. Every weekend, and multiple nights during the week, the venues are selling out. Some of the biggest names in comedy are dropping into the shows unannounced, giving anticipated magic to the experience of seeing someone like Ron White or Tom Segura (both who’ve moved to Austin full-time) make an appearance. The allure of so many comedy shows is making for an exciting situation where because most music shows finish early, you can throw a comedy show late at night. When everyone already knows that some of the most anticipated tours will always have an Austin date, they now know that if a comic is working on some new material, there’s a good chance you’ll catch them working out some bits around town. 

What does all of this mean for Austin’s culture? Comedy is the last thing we need to worry ourselves sick over based on the “new people moving to town and how will this affect my life” scale. The art form is a beautiful addition to the city’s long history of creatives finding a way to be impactful and stand out in this city brimming with creative talent. The music is coming back, that’s a given, but with the news of our beloved venues opening back up and the bars starting to stock the bottles of Tito’s Vodka again, it’s a welcome distraction to get out and laugh about what garbage 2020 was. Now, we can do it while vaccinated and laughing our asses off. And perhaps with less stress than the weirdness that was beginning of the pandemic. This city was built on the back of names like Willie Nelson and Townes Van Zandt, but never forget, it’s also the place that gave us Bill Hicks long before anyone with a Netflix special moved to town. 

Featured photo: Drew DeGennaro for Do512

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