Bruce Morton: The state of the nation's comedy

Aspirant stand-ups are everywhere these days. The place is hoaching with them. Some days, you can’t get parked. For them, the blue-chip gig is Red Raw at The Stand which is currently running a 14-month waiting list. For a 5-minute unpaid gig.

It invites this question – where are the other gigs that these jokesters hope to play? Recent noises from the London comedy circuit bemoan the growth of comedy clubs charging nothing and paying nothing to the performers. How do you compete with that, as a professional?

And the new arrivals keep on pouring off the boat, sometimes lighting up the scene, sometimes diluting the pool and, at worst, spreading a lowest-common-denominator expectation in the minds of comedy audiences. A generation of comics now are imitating comics, doing what they think it is that stand-up comics do. Familiar with style, they give second-billing to substance. To paraphrase Big Div – hip-hop guru from Paisley – “if you’re not in it for your art, that’s when things fall apart.”

Here’s an example of a recent trend. Experienced comics mutter about the recent rise of a breed of nasty comedians: people influenced by Frankie Boyle’s success, blind to his cunning and concision, ignorant of Frankie's intentions as the tabloids they'd aspire to satirise. Will Durst once said that he plans his satires by looking at the news story and wondering how it makes him feel. I have a sense that many new comics wonder how it would make Jimmy Carr feel.

Enough. To the positive. There is a small but significant shift in the Scottish scene. There are what my friend and collaborator Andrew Learmonth describes as “niche comedy” events. Born from ennui or from imagination, what’s happening is collaboration, cabaret, sketches, improv; people getting together for the sake of making something other than money or fame.

Sketch crews like “How Do I Get Up There?”, a talented three-man team including James Kirk who became a legend in our community when, having won the prestigious So You Think You’re Funny competition, rebuffed the immediate and myriad media offers by saying, “Get real – I’ve only got ten minutes (of material)”. At 21 years old.

Other sketch crews in Scotland: Stockholm Syndrome, Broken Windows Policy, Jo Caulfield’s Comedy Collective.

The Improv Dogs. Putting together a sensational two-hour gig every month featuring not just improv, but original comedy songs and sketches. And for all this effort the seven performers share a door-split.

Enterteasement. Combining burlesque, magic and stand-up and filling a room every month in Glasgow.

Endemic. Writing, performing, filming, editing and posting online short comedy sketches.

The Bright Club. Science comedy. A show by science students and academics featuring brainy people riffing about their field of study.

The Greater Shawlands Republic. Satirical political movement running monthly gigs of live music, close-up magic, audio visual content and uber-hi-quality stand-up comics.

Soft Play Area. A GSR off-shoot, providing an occasional, Sunday afternoon, profanity-free comedy gig for mums and dads and their new babies and who rarely get to go out as a family.

Neil 'The Wee Man' Bratchpiece and Billy Kirkwood act as hosts at wrestling matches and The Wee Man also organises rap battles between rappers and comedians.

Those few mentioned above contain award-winning comedians, actors, musicians and disparate performers bringing new comedy ideas to arts centres, bars, theatres, websites and basements near you. From somewhere in the Scottish scene, an energy has become apparent – driving performers to take their talents down alternative routes, to shake hands with like-minded souls. To bring different flavours to the table.

I’ll drink to that. And anticipate the glass being filled again in 2013.