Having time away from the grind of global touring is one thing, but after two years and two postponed world treks, a respite is the last thing Russell Howard is looking for.
Bringing his “Respite” world tour to Allston’s Brighton Music Hall on Friday (March 18), the all-star English comedian is looking forward to returning to the city to after a few postponements due to the pandemic, with a brand new hour in store for the sold-out crowd. Having performed for crowds of all sizes all over the world, the Good News host is excited to get back to the states for the more intimate gigs he’s booked here over the course of his 20 years in stand-up, and with the added excitement of a fresh special on Netflix (Lubricant, which dropped back in December 2021) as well as its accompanying documentary, Until The Wheels Fall Off — which took on a different than originally intended due to the nature of live shows over these last few years — Howard is just aiming to continue his mission of processing the madness of the world around him, while helping crowds do the same through the remedy of laughter and community.
Vanyaland recently had the pleasure of connecting with Howard, where we talked about everything from getting back to global touring, kids with head lice, and why it’s so important to him that he helps to usher in a “societal orgasm” through his art.
Check it out.
Jason Greenough: Jumping right in, we’ve got a big show coming up at Brighton Music Hall on March 18, as part of your “Respite” world tour. After two years and two rescheduling, how does it feel to finally be coming to Boston for this tour?
Russell Howard: It’s incredible, really. I can’t wait. I’ve always loved that room, because it’s just this pulsating little gig, so to be able to perform there again is amazing to me. What’s strange is that’s a completely new show from my Netflix special. I was supposed to tour that show before shooting the special, but of course, I had to release that, so it’s nuts that I had to miss out on an entire leg of the trip in the U.S. and Europe since I could only gig in the UK.
So, it’s just nice to be able to perform outside of the country again, because you get such an amazing perspective on the world and your country when you perform in other places.
Absolutely! Going off of that, you’re going from playing theatres and bigger venues in the UK, to smaller venues in the U.S. Especially with your conversational style of comedy, whether it be in terms of your stand-up, or Good News, or whatever it might be, is there any sort of different preparation that goes into performing for more intimate crowds?
Oh yes. If you’re doing arenas in the UK, there’s about 15,000 people there, so the show has to be this sort of all-powerful monologue. But, I do small rooms to work this stuff up, so kind of the same. When you perform in a smaller room, like 400 or 500 seats, there’s a nice intimacy that allows it to be more conversational and you can throw more ideas out to the point where it can become more interactive. That definitely happens in the U.S., because you’re a bit more chatty, and I don’t think American audiences realize how good they really are, and how responsible they’ve been for great comedy over the years.
Generally speaking, American audiences fill in the gaps because you’re so happy to be there. When you gig in England, there’s a deep desire within us English people for everything to go badly. We want the comedian to fall flat, and to write ‘help me’ in their own shit. That would be a terrific night out for us, whereas in the U.S., you genuinely seem to want the night to go well, and do your part while unwittingly allowing comedians to go further and get funnier, because you’re such a positive audience. It’s amazing. I feel like whenever I gig in the U.S., I feel like I’ve been raised in Mordor, and now I find myself in The Shire.
Well, I’m glad we could help you feel not necessarily at home, but still ‘at home.’ With Lubricant still new and fresh out on Netflix, how does the feedback or reaction you’ve gotten as a result of that body of work play into the excitement of starting from scratch with a brand new hour?
It’s so great, because it means you’re lucky enough to have recorded a special on Netflix, and it means you can sell tickets in America or Europe. So it means you’re going to have people there, or at least more people than you would have had you not recorded the special. It also gives people an indication what you’re about, I guess, so that’s what is most exciting about it. Also, because I recorded the special in October, I’ve been working on stuff since then, and the set that I have now is still in a constant state of flow and flux because the world is just so mad by the minute.
There’s a war going on in Ukraine, which is obviously a big thing in Europe and the UK, and you can’t just not talk about it, but what’s fascinating about it is that I’ve been on lots of bills in the US and nobody is talking about it, really. It seems strange to be chatting about your girlfriend or guacamole, and that is just culturally fascinating to me as something of an outsider. That’s kind of what part of my set is about at the moment, where you can’t quite believe that you’re lucky enough to travel the world and perform when there is a comedian who is now running a country, and has to stand and fight against a dictator. It just seems insane and fascinating all at the same time. What’s also great is that I’ve only been doing it in small sets around New York and stuff, and the crowds have really responded to it.
Just as a matter of reference, how long have you been doing stand-up?
I’ve been doing stand-up for 20 years. When I released Lubricant, I released a documentary along with it called Until The Wheels Fall Off, and that was meant to be this project that follows me around England, Australia, Europe and America during my twentieth year, and then obviously, the pandemic hit, so it became this documentary about trying to make a special in the time of COVID where I’m gigging in car parks and woods, and alleys and lay-bys.
So yeah, I’ve been doing comedy for quite a long time, and I think a lot of people felt that sense of falling in love with it again, because when it was taken from you, you realize just how vital and important it is, and how much you miss it, and how much audiences just miss being in a room where you can talk shit and laugh together. That sense of community is really important, especially in times of division. There is something incredible about laughter, and that’s why the tagline of the special is ‘laughter is the lubricant that makes life livable,’ and when you’re lost in laughter together, it’s like a societal orgasm where you’re taken outside of yourself.
The only reason it seems that comedy is in the news at the moment is when it’s a headline that reads something like ‘Comedian says something that shocks crowd’ because three or four people are upset with a joke, while the vast majority enjoyed it. The headlines don’t read ‘Went to see a comedy show last night, really enjoyed it, can’t really remember what comedian said but had a good night.’ It feels like laughter has been weaponized by a media desperate for clicks.
You mentioned the tagline for Lubricant and how laughter sets off this “societal orgasm.” Even with the new special out now as its own thing, how much of your message, or your intention remains in hopes of sustaining that?
It’s always been my mantra really. If you can be in a room full of people, and you can make them laugh, that’s not for nothing. We have those amazing nights with friends where you’re laughing, or you laugh with a comic, and it’s just really good for you. It’s a way of figuring out life, at least for me anyway, and people who are into comedy.
It’s not for everybody, but in the way that I’m not into Dancing With The Stars. I don’t get anything from it, but I would get upset with people who really enjoy it. That’s what it feels like when people get upset about jokes. Maybe you prefer your porridge a different way, and that’s fine, but it seems like we’re consistently losing the ability to disagree. There is something tangible about laughter that when you laugh, it’s cosmically correct because it means your message hasn’t gotten into someone’s brain and made them feel good. For me, it’s a really important thing, because whenever I’m laughing, I’m momentarily taken out of life. It’s nice, especially with going on in the world between the pandemic, and the wars, and the overall all-time lack of trust in politics and authority, being able to sit and laugh sometimes is a very valuable thing.
In terms of a vibe or attitude, what can the crowd expect from this new batch of material when you come to town?
Laughter, confusion, empathy, silliness, stupidity, wisdom, and a lot of stuff about love. And children with head lice.
We call lice ‘nits’ in the UK, and I live next to a nit clinic, which rightly or wrongly, provides endless amounts of entertainment. I’ll just find myself in my back garden laughing at kids with lice.
With the inability to come over to the states to do your thing for so long, what are you looking forward to most about coming back to Boston?
I just love getting that sort of street-level knowledge that you get when you make your way to a different part of the world, because you get a real feel for the place. Instead of reading about America through the news, or China, or India, you get that real sense of what a place is all about. You get a better understanding. That’s what I love as a comic, where I can just put my feet on the ground and wander around a city. The thing about touring in America is that there’s so many different Americas, and it feels like a big field study whenever I’m there.
RUSSELL HOWARD :: Friday, March 18 at Brighton Music Hall, 158 Brighton Ave. in Allston :: 7 and 9:30 p.m. :: Venue event page and ticket info