Since 2000, Variety has been naming its annual 10 Comics to Watch — and watching them go on to impressive careers. We decided to invite a few notable alumni who happen to be performing at the Netflix Is Joke Festival this year for a conversation over Zoom. We were joined by comics Hannah Berner, Zarna Garg, Jay Jurden, Matteo Lane, Brian Simpson and Jenny Yang. This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity, space and to remove lots of random digressions.
•Who or what inspired you to get into comedy?
Zarna Garg:It was my kids who said, “Mom, you should do stand-up comedy.” And I was like, “That is not a job.” Then I went to an open mic — actually, Jay Jurden was in the audience the first time I ever stepped on stage. I remember looking around and thinking, “White people do this?”
Jay Jurden: I grew up doing theater, I got a BFA and MFA. I would say moving to New York, the inspiration was not only seeing queer comedians — like Matteo, having seen him on MTV and having seen him on Netflix — but also just the fact that you have so much more autonomy as a stand-up comedian than you do as an actor. As an actor, you’re begging for a job. As a stand-up, even if it’s just doing a mic at a bar that afternoon, you at least have the control and the power to do your job.
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Brian Simpson:I was in the Marine Corps for a little while and I was the only Black person there in my platoon for a bit. They had just gotten all the Black people taken out of their unit — no one ever told me the specifics of the incident, but someone had accused the commanding officer of racism. So everyone’s walking on eggshells and I start joking to relieve the tension. Someone pulled me aside and explained the situation. I was like, “Oh, I can say whatever the fuck I want to!” I wasn’t trying to be funny — I could just get away with saying it. Like, “Why are we standing in line to check out trench digging tools even though we haven’t fought a trench war since World War II?”
Hannah Berner: I love that Brian said “to release tension” — and I’m not trying to compare his racism he felt in the military to me playing tennis. But I was in like a really high-stakes, high-pressure athletics since I was like 7 years old. And the winning and losing was such a roller coaster, but laughter was the only thing that I found consistency with. I couldn’t promise to win a match, but I could make a joke to make myself or someone else laugh. Like Zarna, I never thought you could make money from being a goofball. It’s kind of this interesting time where you can monetize something that helps you cope.
Matteo Lane:What made me want to do comedy was my Aunt Cindy because she’s so funny. And then when I saw Joan Rivers — it opened a door I didn’t know existed. But I didn’t think it was available to gay men. I mean, I know they existed, but they weren’t available to me. There was no YouTube. So it was a revelation when I saw Bill Cruz at an open mic in Chicago when I was 22 or 23. And I realized, “Oh you could do stand-up and be gay and do it with everybody else.”
Jenny Yang:Everything Zarna said in terms of her attitude toward comedy is literally every single thing my mom said to me about comedy. “How can you make a living off of this? You could just be goofy.” No one tells little immigrant Asian girls, “You should be a comedian.” I was working for a labor union and I realized if I didn’t have a creative outlet, I was going to punch someone in the face. It was so stressful, the world was so wild that if I didn’t have the autonomy to talk about it without having to represent an entire labor union of 85,000 public servants, I will truly kill somebody. So I used to write poetry and perform it. And then I became a stand-up comedian because it felt so freeing. And you can get people to think about anything if you make them laugh. And comedy is great therapy.
Garg: And it’s cheaper than therapy. Even when an open mic paid you like $5, I felt like I was coming out ahead.
Simpson: Also, I don’t know anyone that’s finished therapy — has it fixed anyone?
Yang: Me! I mean, not all therapy for all time, but I finished therapy around the time I quit my political job. They were like, “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with you. You just don’t like your life. So just leave your life.” And it worked.
Garg:I have a friend who said he’s done with therapy. And I found out a week after he said he was done, he has two therapists because he was too scared to quit the first therapist. They hired the second therapist to give him the courage to get out of seeing his first therapist.
Lane: My therapy was usually after school — you’d watch Jenny Jones, Sally Jesse Raphaël, Ricki Lake and be like, “You know, things aren’t so bad.”
•The idea of doing stand-up comedy is so exposing — have you ever dealt with stage fright or had onstage appearances where you thought you wouldn’t recover?
Yang: As a lady you go through your share of “show me your tits!” hecklers and all that. But when I think about the most memorable, intense stage experience, it was having to do a college gig at UC Santa Barbara the week after there was a mass shooting. And it was the first time I opened up a set asking for permission to tell jokes and cry. It was a learning experience that comedy didn’t just have to be what you typically think — there could be pathos, there could be emotion. It was tough at first, but it went great because we all gave each other permission to have a good time.
•I’m sorry, I don’t mean to smile while you’re talking but I relate because I so often laugh at inappropriate moments, including funerals.
Simpson: That is my constant life struggle! I’m the best friend on the phone, but you come to me with a hard time in person — I might start laughing.
Jurden: Funerals are tough only because of the pretense that this person is in heaven. And for so many funerals. You’re like, “OK, so we’re starting off lying?”
Berner: It’s funny you mention stage fright because as comics, people are like, “Oh you’re so confident or strong on stage.” And some of us are, but then there are certain things that shouldn’t make me nervous that make me nervous. Like, I don’t always know how to act at a group dinner. Do I sit back, do I take charge? When it’s me with the mic, I know the rules. I feel calm, I feel free. There’s an artistic freedom where if something is holding me back, I can let it out and express it and other people can relate to it.
Garg: I’m reminded of a situation where I was booked to do a college show. And there were hundreds of kids in the audience, but they were all on their laptops. The next day was a big exam. As a comedian, I was, “I’m here for the show!” But as a mom I was like, “Focus on your homework! Don’t look up!” I remember being so conflicted. So I said, “You know what, pretend to listen to this like you listen to music and do your homework.” Because I wanted them all to get A-pluses!
Jurden:Sometimes when you do these college shows, they’ll tell you “It’s gonna be great, it’s at 2 p.m.” and you’re like — wait! We do comedy in the afternoon? These kids are supposed to be fornicating and smoking weed, they’re not supposed to be listening to me in the afternoon. And once you’ve dealt with a college show, going back into a comedy club setting is easy. You’re like, “I’m cooking with hot grease! I don’t have to deal with teenagers in sweatpants who should be fucking right now.”
Lane: Me and Lisa Trager co-headlined the worst clubs in America like nine years ago for a year. Every weekend we’re at like the HaHa Hut in Alaska. One time Lisa was onstage and a woman was heckling her and Lisa started fighting with her. Then the fire alarm went off and we all had to leave and the host was trying to get everyone to buy his mix tapes while we sat outside until the fire trucks came. Then 40 minutes later, we go back in and Lisa had to get back up on stage to finish her set and the woman still heckled her. That was one of those nights where you’re like: Is this worth it?
Simpson: I remember doing a fraternity show for the Q Dogs and it went well. So they hired me for a show for like their sister sorority but it was Founders Week so it was several generations, and half the crowd is older, church-going Black women holding fans who didn’t want foul language. Nobody told me there were rules.
Jurden: Oh, these are the kind of old Black ladies where you not only can’t curse but you can’t say the word “boob” in front of them, right?
Simpson: Exactly. And I went on stage and I forget what I said — I think it was something about weed. And they started booing. But they have their own booing sound, it’s like… [Simpson makes clucking noises]. This whole room just starts making this sound. And I said, “What the fuck is this?” But the moment I said fuck, they cut my mic. I was so embarrassed I didn’t even stay to get paid. I had to walk through them, it was a big banquet hall, with everyone looking at me. They’re judging me with their eyes and giving me the “You need Jesus look.”
Jurden: It’s fine you didn’t stay to get paid, they would have just paid you in peppermints and strawberry candy anyway.
•To be a comedian, you have to take risks and say the things other people might be afraid to say. And social media can be a necessary evil. Is it intimidating with so many eyes on you?
Garg: You have to go in with courage and with hope, there is no other way. I feel like everybody is going to get canceled at some point for a minute. Somebody will get mad at them and then you have to find your way out of it. But I can’t worry about everything. I believe that I’m overall a decent person — at least to most people, not my mother-in-law. And hopefully that’s sufficient to carry me through the fear that comes with exposing yourself in a big setting. After that, what’s 500 people in a room?
Simpson:I feel like comics are the creative equivalent of smelling something first, you know what I mean? You’re like, “Does anyone else smell that? Nobody else yet?” And maybe you can see it as a blessing and think of yourself as special or a philosopher or you can see it as you’re just a mutant. Some of you are lucky enough that whatever’s mutated about you is useful. And some people are just a warlock living in the sewers, they don’t have no power.
Lane:I will say on the healthy side that a lot of us are making our careers thanks to social media and the gatekeepers are melting away. And it feels less competitive with our peers because we’re not all vying for that same spot. Everybody here knows what it’s like to fight for a spot based off a casting director saying, “We need the gay guy.” So now we’re all fighting for one role. We can celebrate each other.
Jurden:I love that community and you get to see your peers just killing it. That’s why I love “Abbott Elementary,” you get to see Quinta [Brunson] reaching a nationwide audience and elevating people like Janelle James with her.
Yang:I sort of dropped out of social media during the pandemic and I’m just now trying to figure it all out. So I’m learning from you all. I know you have to move differently if you want to make a living as a comedian now, you just do.
Berner: If you look at the way the open mic scene used to be, there were so many hysterical people who walked in and maybe didn’t feel welcome and took it as a sign to never do comedy again. So the internet has been a beautiful place where someone might not feel comfortable going to bars at 1 a.m. in the Bronx but they start posting online and cultivating their audience.
Lane: Everyone who was giving out comedy specials said no to me — Netflix said no to me so many times I wanted to call my last special “Netflix Said No.” I had an hour I was trying to sell and it was Andrew Schulz who said me, “Cut it up and put it online.” And I did and it exploded and it allowed me to connect with a larger audience and continue the path of standup.