“Imagine what Adele would sound like if she had dabbled with GarageBand instead of picking up the guitar, and you’re halfway to Lapsley. Like that global star before her, the English singer-songwriter born Holly Lapsley Fletcher released her first album at 19 and dazzles with a smoky voice that carries the weight of a life not yet lived. But that’s where the comparison ends.”
The basement of the Big Hunt is nicknamed Hell’s Kitchen, thanks to its devilish decor, claustrophobic ambience, and red-light glow. The name was especially fitting on a recent Friday night.
A capacity crowd was there for an alt-comedy show, but the mood was tense, as if the people assembled didn’t sign up for an evening of absurd, surreal, and awkward bits about parental sex and nuclear winter. For some, it was comedy nirvana; for others, comedy hell.
“It felt like a lot of first dates were going bad in there,” says comedian Jamel Johnson, who performed that night. “Generally there are two kinds of audience member: one that wants to laugh and another that challenges you to make them laugh. You see the latter more often at local shows. Fools just act different when they’ve never heard of you.”
The audience might not have heard of Johnson before, but that will probably change soon. The six-year veteran is on his way to Los Angeles, where he’ll be one of a number of growing fish who have fled the District’s small-pond comedy scene for better opportunities in L.A. or New York.
For decades, the District has been a proving ground for comics on their way to bigger and better things. Mike Birbiglia, Dave Chappelle, Martin Lawrence, Patton Oswalt, Rory Scovel, and Wanda Sykes are just a few of the comedians who have started their careers here. In recent years, rising talents Aparna Nancherla, Seaton Smith, and Brandon Wardell have followed.
That tradition was the focus of the 202 Comedy Festival, held in April. “We wanted to have a festival to celebrate all the great comics who have developed in D.C. over the years and to get everyone back in one place,” says Sean Joyce, the comedian and promoter who co-produced the festival, which featured more than 100 comics across 18 shows on four days of programming.
But while the festival had a decidedly local bent—about three-quarters of the festival’s talent was based in the D.C. area—its opening and closing shows were headlined by some of D.C.’s most successful recent exports. That comics have to leave D.C. before they become a headliner at a local festival says something about the state of comedy in the District, but it doesn’t paint a complete picture of the local scene.
The 202 Comedy Festival was the culmination of Joyce’s groundwork: Under his Underground Comedy banner, he produces stand-up shows every night of the week and has built a new infrastructure for D.C. comedy. With shows held primarily at the Big Hunt and Bier Baron, his mini-empire provides local comics with much-needed stage time at places besides the D.C. area’s establishment comedy venues (the D.C. Improv and Arlington Drafthouse).
“Thanks to Sean Joyce, there’s this whole level of comics that can get up every single night and really try to do unique and interesting stuff,” says Brandon Wetherbee, the host of the You, Me, Them, Everybody podcast and managing editor of Brightest Young Things.
Nancherla left D.C. for L.A. in 2010, and recently returned to headline 202’s closing show. The District’s comedy landscape now looks different from when she left it, she says, but the spirit remains the same. The McLean native, who has written for Late Night with Seth Meyers and Totally Biased with W. Kamau Bell, says that D.C.’s DIY attitude is what makes its comedy scene great. “Whoever is active in the scene helps structure which shows are going on,” she says. “A lot of the stage time would be people putting on their own shows.” But eventually, playing the same circuit felt “stagnant,” and Nancherla felt the itch to move.
“When I started here, there were a lot of people that I felt were upperclassmen to look up to,” she says, “but when you feel like you’re the upperclassman, then it’s time to leave.”
Johnson is the next D.C. “upperclassman” whose time has come. He has earned a reputation as one of the best comics in D.C., whether by himself or as part of his “avant-garde musical comedy band and variety show” Romane & Lettuce.
“Jamel Johnson is the funniest stand-up comic in Washington, D.C., in terms of consistency and quality output,” says Wetherbee. “Even when he’s performing stuff I’ve seen a dozen times, I still enjoy watching him.” He adds that Johnson’s intangibles—his ability to read a crowd and play any type of room—have made him the “litmus test” for D.C. comics.
Johnson, a 28-year-old Woodbridge native, works relentlessly, performing at eight or nine shows a week. Not only was he on four bills during the festival, but Johnson was coming off a major week: He opened for Louis C.K. at the Lincoln Theatre and was part of a show Kevin Hart filmed in D.C.—a new Comedy Central stand-up showcase called Hart of the City.
“The Kevin Hart thing was very unexpected,” Johnson says. As part of the show, he filmed both a stand-up set at the Big Hunt and a conversation with Hart at Ben’s Chili Bowl. “I didn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with the man, but he was very chill and definitely about his paper.” (That’s an understatement: In 2015, Forbes calculated Hart’s one-year earnings at $28.5 million.)
The bookings were the most recent in a string of shows that have put Johnson on the path to L.A. He started performing there back in 2014, an experience he compares to “seven people talking about what award show they wrote for, and your boy.” But despite his outsider status, he was able to get on shows like The Meltdown, the popular stand-up showcase hosted by Kumail Nanjiani and Jonah Ray that has spawned a Comedy Central show of the same name. After gigs like that, Johnson knew a change in location would soon be in the cards.
“When I went to L.A. and had success getting on shows, I was like, ‘fuck, I’m gonna do this here now,’” he says. “It wasn’t because of the ceiling [in D.C.]—the reason was because the money aspect. I feel like six months in L.A., if you’re really grinding, who knows.”
Johnson says he has “no goal and no plans,” but has “never been this busy before in [his] life.” And while the move will mean leaving his hometown, he seems excited for a new set of challenges in a place that appreciates the novelty of a “new guy” on the scene.
Even as D.C. prepares to graduate one of its best, the city has no shortage of underclassmen ready to fill the void. A handful of “the city’s brightest 20’s-ish comedians” were the focus of It’s Lit, a show hosted by Shelley Kim (she originally wanted to call the show Fuckboys and Poets, but decided to go with the more marketable name). The 23-year-old started doing comedy during college, and even though she’s not seasoned enough to make a move yet, Kim sees one in her future. “I think it’s possible to have a comedy career outside of L.A. or New York, but those cities just have more opportunities to do comedy full-time.”
Apparently, no matter how long you’ve been a comic in D.C., the twin sirens of the coastal capitals are irresistible. But that doesn’t mean D.C. must suffer as a second-class comedy city. In fact, the District’s status as a feeder system for the big leagues keeps the scene from stagnating, offers audiences a wide variety of styles, and lets comics find their voices away from the eyes and ears of industry professionals.
Plus, there are more opportunities to perform and watch comedy in D.C. than in recent years. “In the late ’90s and early 2000s, if there was one open-mic location a night, that was a lot,” says D.C. Improv owner and manager Allyson Jaffe, who has seen the D.C. scene grow during her nearly two decades at the Improv. “Now there are multiple places running open mics every night of the week.” The club is still the preeminent venue in D.C. for national headliners, many of whom now bring their own opening acts. That’s led Jaffe and her team to get creative with their programming, booking local comics for weekend showcases in the lounge and mid-week shows in the main room.
Bars like Wonderland Ballroom feature long-running shows, theaters like the Howard and Lincoln nab marquee names, and venues like the Black Cat and 9:30 Club are booking more comedy shows than ever. In April, Arlington Drafthouse opened a downtown D.C. location modeled after the legendary Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. And while the 202 Comedy Festival offered a hyper-local approach to booking, Brightest Young Things’ Bentzen Ball has given national comics a reason to visit every fall, with about a score of slots reserved for local comics each year.
“People don’t necessarily think about D.C. as a comedy town, but the audiences are really smart, passionate about the world, and well-informed, and they make for good comedy audiences,” says Nancherla. “The scene has been active in various forms for so long that it just sustains itself in different iterations.”
Many of those generations were on display across the 202 Comedy Festival’s four days, often in the same show. Johnson opened for D.C. success stories like Nancherla and Smith at the Black Cat, and relative newcomers like Kim opened for new successes like Wardell in the Big Hunt basement. It was a winning formula, with several shows selling out and packed houses every night of the festival.
“It was more than we could have asked for,” Joyce writes. “We would be crazy not to have another festival next year.” And if history is any guide, some of the names will be familiar—even if they had to leave D.C. to get that way.
Five years ago, Kristy La Rat and DJ Mafe were in a car on their way to New York to interview and see Oakland-via-Panama rap duo Los Rakas, lamenting the fact that independent artists like that never made it to D.C. Inspired by the show’s energy, Kristy and Mafe decided they would start booking the artists they loved, and Maracuyeah was born. And as the DJs and organizers of Maracuyeah celebrate their fifth anniversary tonight, it’s only fitting that the show will be headlined by Los Rakas, the duo that started it all.
Maracuyeah is many things: a DJ collective, a roving party, a talent booker, a community-building safe space. And for five years, Maracuyeah has been responsible for some of the best dance parties in D.C: inclusive celebrations by and for people of all races, countries of origin, genders, and sexualities—sweaty and sexy tributes to Latin music’s past, present, and future. Or as Mafe describes it, “the original Latin undeground tropical love party.”
“If Beyoncé’s 2013 self-titled album was the proof-of-concept for the “surprise visual album”, then Lemonade is its apex. That last effort felt like an anthology of music videos. Not Lemonade, premiered in full on HBO on Saturday night. A sophisticated hour-long art film that uses movements and motifs, not just tracks on an album, its breadth and depth see it surpass similar pop soundtrack films like Kanye West’s Runaway and Lana Del Rey’s Tropico, which now seem quaint in comparison. Lemonade is in a league of its own.
It’s a hero’s journey through grief. If her self-titled album was micro – a personal exploration of feminism, career and self – then Lemonade is macro – an exploration of those themes across time and place. And while the album is stunning on its own, it’s in visual form that Lemonade truly comes to life.”
“For nearly two years, Jon Jones and Daniel Cormier have given UFC one of its most exciting and personal feuds. Their interactions have resulted in a Las Vegas brawl, death threats on a hot mic, internet insults, and one brutal title match. As they prepared for a (now delayed) rematch to decide the rightful holder of the Light Heavyweight Championship, the shit-talking has continued: UFC’s last media day culminated with Jones giving Cormier a “suck it” crotch chop, a move popularized by the WWE’s D-Generation X.
That’s not the only thing the feud has borrowed from the world of pro wrestling. As an infuriated Cormier asked Jones last month, “Is this not real now? Are we pretending again?” It was a question that underscores what makes their feud so telling: like a WWE wrestler, Jones is forcing the audience to question the reality of “real” fighting.”
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On Friday night, singer-songwriter Charlie Puth opened his set with his debut single, “Marvin Gaye.” The doo-wop throwback turns Gaye’s name into a clumsy come-on — “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on” — and on the anniversary of his death, one couldn’t help but feel that the soul star was rolling over in his grave.
Unlike the controversy that swirled around Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines,” the most offensive thing about “Marvin Gaye” is how inoffensive it is — a bland rehash of a sound that has been pillaged by blue-eyed soul musicians for decades, with a breakdown that nods to hip-hop. (On the recording, that’s where Meghan Trainor adds a verse; in concert, Puth beat-boxes.) The song resembles the rest of Puth’s music in that it is pleasantly familiar and particularly forgettable.”
“The best professional wrestlers know how to make an entrance, whether it’s Stone Cold Steve Austin’s shattering glass, the Undertaker’s church bell “gong,” or the Rock’s “If you smell what the Rock is cooking.” That’s certainly true for the WWE’s three-man tag champions the New Day, who have turned their entrance into a spectacle unlike anything else in the company.
The scene plays out on nearly every episode of WWE programming: “Don’t you dare be sour. Clap! For your world famous, two-time champs, and feel the power!” bellows a voice over the PA. “It’s a New Day, yes it is!” The group’s contemporary gospel theme song—somewhere between Kirk Franklin’s “Revolution” and “I Smile”—hits, and three black wrestlers in bold neon spandex enter the arena. Fans clap, and cheer “New Day rocks!” or “New Day sucks!” depending how they feel about the often-villainous group. It’s one of the biggest reactions of the night.”
“It was a chilly, sleepy Monday night in the District, but D∆WN was ready to party. The artist formerly known as Dawn Richard took to the small stage of DC9 wearing a barely-there outfit of red-sequined hot pants, a sheer top and knee-high stiletto boots. When she asked, “So can we have some fun tonight?,” the question was clearly rhetorical.
After an instrumental introduction, Richard launched into “Faith,” a 2012 cut reminiscent of Drake and Rihanna’s “Take Care” that found her belting out “You never lost faith in me” over synth chords and a galloping club beat. The lyric is telling — it seems to speak to fans that have never given up on the singer, despite the winding path her career has taken.”
“Classical Trax is a global DJ collective, but that’s selling it short. The music that its members make, mix, and mutate can be grouped together under the increasingly amorphous designation of “club music,” with influences drawn from Baltimore and Jersey club to Angolan kuduro, and from U.K. grime to Chicago juke and footwork.”
“On his debut album, Rome Fortune raps that he refuses to be pigeonholed.
It’s a straightforward message, but also something that has been evident in his ever-growing body of work. When he broke through in 2013 with Beautiful Pimp, Fortune unspooled his laidback lyricism over beats by Atlanta’s then-dominant Hoodrich Production Group (Dun Deal, Childish Major, DJ Spinz, C4) and established himself as part of the “New Atlanta” wave that was redefining the city’s rap scene. And while he’s at ease collaborating with the likes of Young Thug, iLoveMakonnen and OG Maco, he’s consistently looked outside of his city — and rap entirely — for collaborators, recording with Four Tet, Toro y Moi, Suicideyear and others…
With Jerome Raheem Fortune due out on February 26 via Fool’s Gold, we caught up with Fortune about the album, his unique relationship with his fans and his plans for a life after rap.”
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