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Interview: Daniel Sloss brings a renewed love of stand-up back with ‘Hubris’

Photo Courtesy of The Wilbur

Following the popularity of his past three tours, Daniel Sloss found himself not only climbing the ranks in the comedy world at an exceptional rate, but also becoming extremely burnt out as a result of it. So, with his new show, he’s going back to square one, whether you like it or not.

Bringing his new show Hubris to The Wilbur Theatre tonight (October 13) and then returning on October 26, the Scottish comedy phenom set out with a purpose of falling in love with stand-up again, by stripping the narrative aspect of his critically acclaimed shows like Jigsaw, Dark and X, and replacing it with straight-out, old-school joke telling. Now, after 18 months of performing the show in different parts of the world, as well as a myriad of venue settings, he’s happy to admit that he’s reached that point of a rediscovered love for the art form. While his storytelling abilities have gained him global recognition, and sold-out shows around the world, Sloss is looking forward to returning to stages in America, regardless of our unwavering sense of nationalism, and helping to give everyone a bit of a break of being locked in not only our own houses, but our own heads, as well.

We caught up with comedian and author ahead of tonight’s gig to talk about the new show and getting back out on the road, and in true Daniel Sloss fashion, it was a whole hell of a lot of fun. 

Check it out.

Jason Greenough: Well, it’s been a wild ride over the last year and half, and it’s great to see you’re coming back to town with a new show. First and foremost, how are you holding up as we get back into the full swing of things?

Daniel Sloss: Better than some, worse than others, which I think is true for everyone. It’s a difficult thing, because we’re always taught not to compare yourself to others, but some of us get into the way of not comparing ourselves to people that are doing better than me, because that’ll just make me feel worse, which I feel is a fair point. But you should never compare yourself to someone who is doing worse, because then you feel like you don’t have a right to complain about things. That’s how you get people who don’t think they should be sad because there are people out there in worse positions, and I’m just like ‘motherfucker, no. We’re all going through our own shit.’ Just because someone is having a shit time somewhere else doesn’t minimize your struggle.

But I’m doing good, man. There were parts of lockdown that were really rough, and now being on the other side of it, I think I’m better for it. It was sort of a forced break, and I feel way better than I did two years ago. I’m happier about everything, and I think my priorities are better now, and I’ve definitely calmed down a fair bit. Nothing destroys your ego better than a fucking pandemic.

I feel that. It’s like you just keep pushing, and you’re riding high, then something stops you in your tracks to remind you that you’re not hot shit like you thought you were.

For three years in a row, ever since I did Netflix, I was walking around like ‘I’m Daniel Sloss, international comedian, and I get to travel around and sell out theaters literally all over the world,’ and then I was just Daniel, and he’s a real boring cunt who has anxiety. Then it hit me that the ‘Daniel Sloss’ thing is just a facade of sorts, just a heightened version of myself or at least who I think I should be.

Do you feel like that aspect of lockdown, where you had to take that step back, has affected your creative growth going forward, and in coming up with Hubris?

The difficult thing about Hubris is that I wrote it pre-pandemic, in January and February 2020 before bringing it to LA and New York. I did that for about three weeks and got it into reasonable shape before the pandemic kicked off. So, I was doing some shows during the pandemic, when the UK would open up even slightly, and we would do shows in car parks and pub gardens because I like being on stage. I like my job, and it was nice to go from a worldwide tour in theaters and arenas to playing to seventy people in a pub garden, and it helped me to remember that part of my career, and how fun and exciting it was. It was a bit more raw and genuine.

When I initially wrote this show, it was all jokes. That’s all it was. I just wanted to do an hour of stand-up, with no message or deeper bit. I know people kind of expect that from me, but I don’t want to be predictable, and I don’t owe my audience anything other than what I want to give them. So, this was just going to be jokes, and after the pandemic, it was perfect, because I didn’t want to think about anything deep. We just had a year and a half of being in our own heads, being isolated and overthinking things. There was just no point in having a message. We’ve all learned our own lessons, and we’re all slowly recovering from a very weird time in life. I’m not going to go on stage and preach because I don’t know my thoughts on most things, and I don’t have any important opinion that I think is valid or accurate. I don’t trust my judgment, or at least I didn’t then, so it’s nice to write a show that is just fuckin’ jokes, where I can piss around and laugh, and go back to what I used to do as a stand-up.

Now that I’ve done the show a fair bit, I’m very excited to be bringing it out to America, but I do know that after this, I’ll have something to say again. So, with the next show, I’ll write it out more, but I’m really enjoying just being a stand-up again, because it’s been awhile since I got to do that, and it’s a nice costume to wear.

Right on. Now, as you bring this show to Boston and The Wilbur, but what’s the overall feeling as you bring the show further out into the world, and more specifically, to the Boston area?

The Wilbur is just such a famous venue. It’s one of those places where, when you play it as a comedian, you know you’ve made it. It’s undeniable. It’s like The Beacon or the Palladium, or the Sydney Opera House, it’s just one of those venues where once you do it, you’re there. Not only that, but I heard about it for years from listening to Bill Burr and his podcast, and so many other comedians that I love. Playing it last time was great, because it had a real feeling of ‘here we are,’ and I’m just excited to get back there.

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You mentioned how the lockdown kind of knocked you down a rung. With a name like Hubris, did the inspiration for that name take on a different evolution after that knockdown happened?

Well, I originally called the show Hubris because I knew with the last tour with X, I can look back now in hindsight and remember so many positive memories and it was a dream come true in many aspects, but I wanted to die for seven months of that fucking tour. It was just too much. I was on the road constantly, I was never home, and because of the content of the show, I had to perform it the same way every night, and I lost my fucking mind doing it. I didn’t feel like a comedian or a person. I felt like a dancing bear that just toured the world and was electric shocked onto the stage and told what to do. I hated feeling that way, because it was the stereotypical idea that my dreams had come true, but I wasn’t enjoying myself. It made me feel like ‘ you ungrateful piece of shit, anyone would kill for this,’ but nobody lived what I went through, and I wanted to make sure I never felt that way again. I’ve always loved my job, and stand-up comedy is the greatest job in the world, and I’ve never taken it for granted. But for a large portion of that tour, I fucking hated doing it, and I never want to go back there. 

I just can’t ever be that busy again, and I really just wanted to do a show where I could do anything I wanted. Not that I would, because I’m not an improv comic, but if I got bored of a joke then I could drop a joke, or if I wanted to change the end of the show, I could, and that sort of felt like I would be cheating my audience, because I had just come from doing Dark and Jigsaw, and also the X tour which was me doing three shows where I would do 45 minutes of stand-up, and then at the end I would stop the ausince from laughing with a sad or serious moment, but also with jokes in it. That felt a bit predictable after a while, and I didn’t want to be known for that because that’s not my shtick. I’ve gone that way a couple of times because I enjoy telling stories that way, but I wanted to do something different, and that’s Hubris. To do something different from what made me successful, and also because I used to be an arrogant piece of shit, so it made sense to call it that.

Now, I feel like the title is a bit more tongue and cheek, where my arrogance and confidence is still occasionally there, but it’s more notably an act at this point.

I’ve always enjoyed your ability to balance the poignant with humor, but being able to shut it off and go to left field with it is commendable to me.

I’m glad you say that, because when I wrote Dark and Jigsaw and X, I didn’t really know what they were going to become, especially Jigsaw. It was just a stand-up show about my break-up and how I preferred to be single after coming out of this toxic relationship, and it turned into this whole thing. And Dark spoke to people on a different level that I never really noticed before, especially to people with family members who are disabled, or who are disabled themselves, or experienced death in their families. These shows really spoke to people and connected on such an emotional level, and then with X and what that was, where survivors feel so connected to me and the show, and people will watch my shit over and over again, and then they come to this show and I’m just doing stand-up and they still enjoy it, but part of me fears and worries in the way that comedians do, that I’ll find the one person in the audience that isn’t laughing. I’m always looking for the person who is disappointed, and I’m sure there are people that feel that way, and they’re entitled to feel that way, but this show had to make me fall in love with stand-up again. It’s a palette cleanser for me. 

For nine years, I was grinding on the circuit doing stand-up and having the time of my life, and then I started doing these narrative shows, and having done Hubris for 18 months now, and being able to fuck around a bit, I know, if I’m being honest with myself, that I do prefer the storytelling aspect. I can feel this sort of energy inside of me that wants me to do the next show as mostly stand-up, as it always is, but I think I want to talk about what I want to say. I’m taking notes, but I’m enjoying stand-up so much again that I just want to do this show before I lock myself into a place where it has to be a certain way.

Above everything, what are you looking forward to most about bringing Hubris back to the states and to Boston?

I’m really looking forward to the atmosphere, man. I will happily and openly criticize America because I love it, and my insults and criticism come from a place of love. I want you guys to be the country that you think you are. My country is shit too, but I don’t yell at people that my country is the best. America is the only country in the world where the people who live there think it’s the best country. You ask any Scottish person what the best country in the world is, and none of them will tell you Scotland. Same with Australia, but the funny thing is, all the people in these countries aren’t voting for America either. [laughs] I do legitimately love the states, because I think you’re such a comedy-savvy audience. We can make all the stereotypes we want about how Americans are stupid and all that shit, but comedically, you’re such an intelligent audience, because you’re the masters and home of stand-up. 

You’re given comedy so often that you create some of the best comedy in TV shows and stand-up, and every state in the country has at least three comedy clubs. It’s a big thing there, and of course, you get shitty audience members that get offended, but by and large, you understand comedy at a profound level, and it’s fun to perform there for that very reason.

DANIEL SLOSS: HUBRIS :: Wednesday, October 13 at 7 p.m. and Tuesday, October 26 at 7:30 p.m. at The Wilbur, 246 Tremont St. in Boston, MA :: $51 to $74 :: Advance tickets and venue info

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