You ever watch a comedy show so bad you start questioning your own taste in friends for inviting you? Like, “Damn, did I really go to college with you and sit through this set where a guy just lists types of soup for five minutes?” That’s not just a bad night. That’s what happens when mediocrity becomes the norm. And let me tell you, in comedy, mediocrity isn’t just tolerated—it’s booking gigs.
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 Dawn Ford performing at Comedy on Mackay. Sometimes as comedians, we walk away from a show where everyone bombed — the comics, the crowd work, the energy in the room — and we console ourselves by blaming the audience. “Tough crowd tonight,” we say, nodding in solidarity, as if we were all helpless passengers on a sinking ship.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: sometimes, it’s not the crowd. Sometimes, the root of that flat, uncomfortable, or low-energy night comes down to how the show was hosted.  Photographer: Eric Spicely (@spicewonder) One of the best things about stand-up is that there’s no one way to be funny — and thank God, because if I had to write like Seinfeld or shout like Sam Kinison, I’d have quit ages ago.
Still, I meet so many new comics who ask, “What’s my voice?” like it’s something you pick off a shelf. The truth is: voice comes from trying, failing, and figuring out which style of funny feels like home. So let’s talk about the different kinds of comedy styles out there — and what it actually means to “have a voice” in stand-up.  Saba Jakeman, co-producer and co-host of Comedy on Mackay with audience members. There’s a unique kind of anxiety that creeps in five minutes before showtime when half the chairs are still empty. For comics, that silence hits differently. We start doing mental math: Did I post enough? Should I have made a reel? Did my followers ignore this one? Is this my fault?
 "You're doing great."
I hear it a lot. From comics, from audience members, from people who genuinely love what we’re building at Comedy on Mackay. And I know they mean it with love. They’re rooting for us. But what people don’t always see is that ‘doing great’ often means doing everything.  It’s a question I keep coming back to.
What is good comedy? Not just funny comedy. Not just crowd-pleasing, brand-safe comedy. But good comedy — the kind that lingers, that stays with people for the right reasons. The kind that respects the room without playing it safe. The kind that hits you in the gut, but still makes you want to come back for more. |
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