British comedian Russell Howard has that special knack for pointing out both the absurdity in the mundane and the ridiculousness in the terrifying.
He became a household name in the U.K. through programs such as the celebrity panel show “Mock the Week,” which is similar to NPR’s “Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me,” his own headline-riffing “The Russell Howard Hour,” and the rite of passage for all personalities willing to make fools of themselves on air by competing in hilariously ludicrous challenges — “Taskmaster.”
In his most recent special, “Live at the London Palladium,” which he released in January via his website, he notes that his wife Cerys Morgan’s job as a medical doctor means she saves lives. His? To think of funny ways to explain the difference between the words “out” and “down.” He also compares humans’ fear that artificial intelligence will take their jobs to the way goats must have felt when we invented the lawnmower.
His new tour, which includes an appearance at the Hollywood Improv on March 23, will again find new takes on some of stand-up’s most well-worn topics: parenting and politics. Howard and Morgan welcomed their son in May. And, despite his new responsibilities, he somehow found time to scour the news for fresh material.
Speaking in January over Zoom, Howard says he took paternity leave before heading to Canada to workshop material he had jotted into his phone during those early parenting days (and nights), some of which he freely admits might as well have been “hieroglyphics from a lunatic in a cave.” He says he’ll also frequently try out material at London’s Top Secret Comedy Club just to “throw s— at the wall and see what sticks.”
“Normally, to get it cooking, it takes me about six months, and then, like really simmered and turned into a nice casserole, it takes me about a year,” Howard explains.
He also adds that “I’m lucky enough that there are people who will let me know whether my feelings are correct by laughing. And if they do, it’s fine. If they don’t, OK, I’ll try it three or four more times to see if it works. … It’s about being ruthless, I think, with yourself.”
In an interview that has been edited for length and clarity, Howard elaborated on his process as well as his thoughts on the state of the world and how comedy podcasts can be mined for good.
Parenting is a well-tread topic of stand-ups. How can you still make it interesting?
It’s such virgin, fertile ground becoming a dad. You’re in it and loving it. And then humor naturally arises. … That’s the thing about stand-up. It’s the sidecar to the motorbike of your real life [and] there’s always something you can just pop in.
To nonparents, or indeed, parents, talking about your child is a bit like explaining what your tattoo means. Not that many people are interested. So it becomes a really fascinating challenge to see what is universal.
My stuff has been quite political and sociological in the last couple of years. This is quite emotional, I guess. It’s really funny, but it’s all done from a position of naivety and love and excitement. Just that feeling of being smiled at by somebody for having done nothing is an incredible feeling. As an adult, you have to try so hard to get a smile, and for it to just appear from somebody who looks like you and your wife, it’s pretty magical.
There was a real phase where, because Louis C.K. was doing this stuff about his kids, a lot of comics ended up kind of ripping him off and just saying “my kids are p—.” It becomes a very hack way of talking about “f— children.” And they become the new mother-in-law. I just don’t feel like that. I just can’t imagine ever describing my son as a p— just to make strangers happy for a nanosecond.
How do you tell stories like these without it sounding corny?
I think authenticity is key. There’s an awkward truth to every human being. I love watching videos of Deaf babies hearing for the first time [and] seeing the look of excitement when they can hear their mums. I also love it when I see drunk men who’ve fallen asleep on a train and their friends have written something on their foreheads.
My dad’s got this brilliant phrase. He calls it the Red Face test. If you can tell it to an audience or somebody without going red in the face, then it’s fine. He used it to talk about it for taxes and if you’re doing tax schemes. If you’re explaining it to somebody and your face goes red, then it is illegal.
Similarly, President Trump was constant fodder for comedians during his first administration. Is it hard to find new things to say about him now that he’s back in office?
If you talk about something with passion or interest, you naturally figure out when you’re boring on stage, or when you’re pushing people and your brain will say something funny to get you out of it.
Talking about the rise of [White House advisor] Elon Musk within the kind of cultural discourse is kind of fascinating to me. I’m an English guy watching a South African control an American president, and seeing him [also support] Tommy Robinson, who is a football hooligan from the U.K. It’s hilarious to me that he’s clearly an intelligent man — he can put a rocket in space and create an electric car — but he can’t do his research to know that Tom Robinson defended a Winston Churchill statue by [being part of a group that did] a Nazi salute. We’re not dealing with wisdom here.
The deeper you go, there’s always a layer of absurdity. It’s finding the absurdity within it and then getting big belly laughs once you’ve zoned in on your angle.
With Trump 2.0, it’s sort of that thing of how do you go a bit deeper? Do you even want to talk about him? In Europe, there’s a sense of resignation where people are just like, “Ah, really, America?” There doesn’t seem to be anger. There just seems to be this still sadness. It’s the observation of the machine because you see how everything is weaponized and everything is tribal. Even comedy’s become tribal in America.
I’ll tell you what audiences are definitely bored with is the just regurgitated “Isn’t Trump orange?” joke. … You’re trying to find the meat rather than the gristle. I think Trump is gristle.
You also have a podcast, “Five Brilliant Things,” that is much softer. You ask celebrities and comedians such as John Oliver and Stephen Merchant to tell stories about things that bring them happiness. How do you balance this with your stand-up persona?
The difference is you’re listening to people. That’s the skill of interviewing, isn’t it? It took me years to do that for my TV shows.
We’re taught that comedians are some of the most hardened people in the world. How do you get them to let down their guards?
I think that’s so lovely about the concept because you can put anybody on there and you’d see a different side of them [because you’re asking them] “What do you love?” It’s illuminating when you let somebody ramble about things they adore because they give away [sides of themselves].
It’s very easy to talk about things you hate. But it takes a lot of courage to tell people what you love and it doesn’t matter how dark you are.
That was the aim, really. I just wanted to do something that was forever funny or forever interesting. So it wasn’t attached to topicality.
Every comedian seems to have a podcast now. How do you choose which of your material will go on a podcast or social media and how much will appear in your stand-up?
Some people view podcasts as entertainment and some people view them as religions. That’s the big thing, isn’t it? What do you take from this? Is it a long radio show or is that person a prophet? And I definitely think it’s a hang.
What’s great about a podcast, and why people have such a strong relationship with them, is because this [person] goes to work with you, is in your ears when you’re on the train. There are people who feel like they’ve had a chat or a voice note from Marc Maron from [listening to his “WTF” podcast].
As a consequence, he can probably go deeper to his fans at a gig. His last special, [“From Bleak to Dark,” which was about the death of his partner, Lynn Shelton] was obviously dealing with something horrific. But it was a really honest assessment of devastation. He probably couldn’t have done that if he hadn’t done the podcast because that gave him the space to have that kind of role.
