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Lizzy Cooperman

The first time I saw Lizzy Cooperman was in December when she hosted “Super Tight Holiday Party” at The Lyric Hyperion. Her set was short, as everyone had around five minutes, but she was unforgettable.

I had the pleasure of going to her first album recording last Saturday at the very same theater I’d first seen her perform. It was the perfect venue for her, intimate in a way that the more socially anxious would find uncomfortable, but that’s exactly where Cooperman wants you.

Watching Cooperman perform is witnessing someone push different boundaries while also respecting “tradition” in terms of stand-up comedy. She has one-liners, clever word play, and excellent storytelling that feel familiar, but at the same time she wraps her entire piece in incredible experimentation. From her vocal range, use of an electric keyboard, to her physical movements and contortions, Cooperman isn’t fucking around when it comes to her twisting the traditional experience.

It’s impossible to do an impression of Cooperman without severely straining your vocal chords. She uses a variety of tones, pitches, and dips without any warning about which will be next. There are points when her delivery sounds less like a comedy show and more like a horror movie that has her crawling backwards up the wall. Her control over changing so quickly from sounding like she’s being exorcised to a calm everyday voice is a one-two-punch, leaving everyone dizzy and not knowing what to expect.

She utilizes an electric keyboard, sometimes as a punchline, sometimes as a delicate accent to a delivery, and sometimes she simply drapes her entire body across it, smashing the keys as the ultimate end of a segment.

Does she require a huge dissonant smash after her voice raises to a crescendo? How about a playful drag of a finger across the higher keys, a deceiving feeling of whimsy before she leads us somewhere darker? Or maybe something simpler, an object that she can abuse that will wail in response? She manages to turn a simple instrument into a multipurpose tool.

Exploring different avenues of comedy is spoiling me in terms of comedians being physically demanding of themselves. Traditionally, a comedian might pace the stage, microphone in hand, maybe using some simple gestures like we do when we’re having a conversation.

Not Cooperman.

She often hunches her shoulders, rolling them inward and hunching over when she’s being particularly percussive on her piano. But when she strays away from her keyboard, microphone in hand, she is rarely seen standing upright. Her shoulders will continue to roll, her back will arch or hunch, and she’s often crouched low only to spring back up. When she stalks along the audience in such a small venue, it’s exhilarating, uncomfortable, and unique.

Her bread and butter is reveling in the inherent discomfort and social anxiety that we all experience as members of the audience, yet it never feels aggressive or mocking. When she plays Truth or Dare with the audience (terrifying for me both times), it could have easily been made into a humiliation game for whomever she chose.

Instead, every demand, whether the player picks truth or dare, is so absurd yet at the same time impersonal. Cooperman isn’t picking on anyone, it’s more of a mockery of the narrative that she constructed. If she picks you, it’s understandably terrifying, but know that you’re in good hands.

When it comes to bringing these different techniques together to tell a story, Cooperman handles it with ease. She is precise in her wording, whether it’s for a quick quip, or the slower road for a longer story. When she talks about sleepovers and the girl with fingers covered in cheeto dust, we all know exactly who she’s talking about. It’s this attention to detail that solidifies Lizzy Cooperman as someone who is clearly relentless in her craft.

After a brief look into her background, it wasn’t surprising to see that she’s worked on The Eric Andre Show. There are ripples of that same craving of discomfort and dissonance, but Cooperman brings her personal voice to it.

Even though I’ve only seen her once previously, I knew Cooperman was someone I wanted to experience again. Her performance is deliberate, physically and vocally unique, and a beautiful blend of traditional tent poles that support a brilliantly experimental structure.

Trying to predict a performance by Lizzy Cooperman is an impossible exercise, which is one of the many things that makes her incredibly breathtaking.

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Josh Fadem

The first time I saw Josh Fadem live was three years ago at “Performance Anxiety.”

If you’ve never been to “Performance Anxiety,” I highly recommend attending. It’s hosted by Eli Olsberg and located at the Pleasure Chest in West Hollywood.

Admittedly, it’s a challenging venue. It’s brightly lit, there’s not a separate room for the performers, only a roped off space with the registers behind the seats, and any shoppers are easily heard. Even a comedian on the top of their game would struggle with an audience afraid to be seen laughing because they're trapped under bright lights and surrounded by sex toys.

With such an intimidating venue for both the comedians and audience, if anyone bombed I wouldn’t hold it against them.

I had just moved to Los Angeles and forced myself to go out to acclimate and not get homesick. The Pleasure Chest was a short walk away, so my roommate and I thought we’d give it a go. The only name I recognized on the bill was Fadem’s and lucky for me, he was the opener.

I’d previously only seen him in Nathan Barnatt’s trailer for Youth Large, a pilot Barnatt pitched to Adult Swim. Fadem was cast as a supporting character who was somehow so much of a loser that even the trio of freakish protagonists didn’t want to hang out with him. I remembered him because of his physical commitments, from his eyes down to how he’d press his back against a diner seat for maximum awkward body posture.

Most people would not consider Fadem’s performance at the Pleasure Chest a success. He didn’t get many laughs, and after a few minutes of fumbling with the microphone he was gone, making way for Olsberg to introduce the next comedian. I noticed that Fadem stuck around, watching when people would laugh at jokes about dating or just pointing to a dildo on the wall. People weren’t necessarily laughing because it was funny, but because the level of discomfort demanded it.

I saw Josh Fadem again recently, this time performing in “Super Tight Holiday Party” at the Lyric Hyperion Theater and Cafe in Silver Lake. The performance space was dark, small, and very intimate. If you attend be prepared for interaction with the performers.

Fadem was spectacular. It had been years, I knew that he was capable, and still I was pleasantly surprised to see how he’d grown.

If you’ve never seen a Josh Fadem performance, go now. Stop reading this, google his name, and figure out when you can work him into your schedule. I promise you won’t see many people like him. I don’t want to spoil his performance style for you, so if you’re the least bit curious, please stop here.

And back to those of you still reading:

It is impossible to summarize Josh Fadem without speaking (admittedly briefly and broadly) about stand-up comedy and its evolution. The styles that have survived, been watered down, splintered off, and recycled offer people a safe assumption about the kind of show they’re getting into. People who study the craft will fall back on rules of three, hard K words, and timing the perfect usage for expletives if that is indeed their thing. Rules and rituals were created for a reason and I’m not knocking it.

However, as with all art forms, rules are meant to be broken, reshaped, reworked, and shattered all over again. It takes a lot of guts to break the rules.

Josh Fadem has fucking guts.

The Lyric Hyperion was a cozy space, the lighting was minimal, and the room was separate from the cafe which was the perfect amount of isolation needed. A previous performer had broken sugar glass bottles on the floor, and there were three microphones available.

Without having to say a word it was clear that Fadem was doing something different. He walked out on stage in loose fitting pants, a neon orange sweatshirt with the hood up, and a comically bulky suit jacket that went down to Fadem’s knees. Already Fadem was playing with his shape. He didn’t have to say a word and people were laughing.

Fadem didn’t limit his experimentation with clothes. His jokes will never be standard, average, or formulaic. Fadem will never deliver an “I went on a bad date” story unless he shrieks those words into the microphone before throwing himself onto the floor to transition to a new topic. He appears to be a man fascinated by all facets of comedy. Whether it is clever wordplay, audience interaction, improvisation, and of course physical movement, Fadem has his own perspective to share. He was comfortable with unexpected changes to the space as he stomped on the sugar glass and whined “I’m sorry, baby, please don’t leave me, baby,” into the microphone.

Classic stand-up comedians will spend their days working on the perfect transition from one anecdote to another. There’s an art to that subtly, but it’s not one that Fadem cares about. If Fadem is going to switch gears and go in a new direction, he is going to get there with his body.

By that, I mean several times that night Fadem knocked over microphones, tangled himself in wires, or just threw his body to the floor to milk every physical tic he could to get back on his feet. Fadem never let any of his surroundings go to waste, if he was adjusting the microphone he made sure to push it too hard so it slammed into his chin.

Watching him use his entire body in his performance was inspiring.

Josh Fadem is a comedian worth seeing. He’s in Better Call Saul and had a wonderful role in the Twin Peaks revival. Clearly other people are seeing his appeal and he’s only going to get bigger. He not looking to make anyone comfortable and that’s what makes him so great. Josh Fadem is breaking the rules, but is doing so with such care and precision that it never comes across as arrogant.

Years ago, when I was sitting in the Pleasure Chest watching Fadem watch other comedians, I wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t worry. The venue was a challenge. But even more apparent was that the other stand-up comedians that night were following the rules. When he watched them, I wanted him to know that their style didn’t apply to him.

Josh Fadem is chaotic. When you see him live it is charged, uncomfortable, and an absolute delight. While he twists his voice and body, his eyes remain calm with unwavering assurance in who he is.

He is unforgettable.

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First Post!

I’ll be making a formal review soon, but this will just be a collection of things I find interesting enough to write about them in detail. Sit back for a lot of comedians, Los Angeles sights, and tips!