Fox Klein

Tron, Depeche Mode and Fox Klein (and SF stuff at the end)

Thursday. Another dull day at the sausage factory. Cut, paste, upload. Repeat. And then Sean Williams, bless his love of 80s electronic music, sent me this. It is essentially a trailer for Tron, set to one of my favourite Depeche Mode songs, Suffer Well. And done very nicely, too.

And where does the comedian Fox Klein fit in? Well, nowhere, except that he, and the two Coronas I had with dinner, were the highlight of the evening at the Sit Down Comedy Club. A charismatic comedian, offering a storyline or at least a consistent theme with moments of absolute cleverness, and lots of relationship/sex talk without resorting to smut.

Which goes to show how music, fantasy and a sense of humour will overcome - Jason Nuhrung

I was just told through the electronic laugh-vine that a popular Melbourne comic is moving Stateside to "make it" in Los Angeles.
Now, you know what this means, don't you? You must; it's Newton's Law of Comedic Conservation. If one comedian comes in, then another of equal size and merit must go out.
If this scientific (and not at all contrived for the sake of this article) law said that we could let just any comedian go, I would, of course, be onboard with sending Pauly Shore to sea without a floatie, but this law explicitly states "of equal size and merit" so we have to look beyond mere desire and more toward deductive logic.
If this age-old theory allowed us to cut loose just anyone within the general realm - you know, of similar age and in sort-of-the-same business, I could easily toss back into the water John Mayer. From what I've heard (and hearsay is my proud business) John Mayer pretty much eats women. He gobbles them up like those tiny Amos cookies and then spits them out all confused with mouths still agape. And, afterward, he is apparently still famished. We could send him to Australia to eat their women and watch his face contort with confusion when they exit and swirl counter-clockwise down the drain, and we could watch his record sales do the same because no one likes an immigrant woman-eater. (Except for maybe Lindsay Lohan.)
So, back to Fox Klein, the Aussie who's coming to town. In order to find someone of Fox Klein's caliber - replete with cool, seemingly made-up and succinct but still Jewish-sounding and hence credible moniker, I have had to search long, diligently and wide.
I am down to three.
Perhaps you can help me choose which one is the most Klein-esque (yet not quite as groovy) and therefore worthy of getting rid of, so that this new guy with a name for fame and an accent that is distinctive (it sure would make game night featuring "Taboo" a challenging treat) so that he may enter without disrupting LA's oh-so-natural flow.
Once we pick a comedian to ship, we can send him a train ticket and a map. The train wouldn't take him all the way to Australia, of course, but it would take him to Tijuana, which is another place South where folks talk different and where foreigners are always welcome.
He can make it the rest of the way on his own.
Here are my three. Help me select one to make an exit so that Fox Klein can make an entrance. If we pick a stand-up (AKA send-out) who lives in West Hollywood, all the better. That way Klein can be close to the comedy clubs, which could save him some drive time. (You know we don't need another backwards Bruce on the road while we still have Nicole Richie.) Plus, all those travel minutes might instead be spent getting to know his new wife, kids and digs. - LA Examiner - Andrea Kittelson

Written by Gemma King
Allow me to harangue you with a contrived and inelegant analogy. 3 For 1 Live @ Comic’s Lounge is a BLT sandwich. 3 comedians = 3 tasty ingredients and a very satisfied crowd.

Bear with me.

As the bacon, Corinne Grant is the main attraction: the meat. She’s an animated performer, smiling devilishly as she takes the piss out of herself…and celebrities. Everyone from Nicole Kidman to Bindi Irwin all the way down to Joe Dolce is fodder for Grant’s cheeky taunts. Country born and bred, Grant has endless ‘sticks vs big smoke’ material that is endearing, engaging, and ‘funny cos it’s true’.

Gab Rossi wasn’t officially on the bill and I’m not sure whether he makes a regular appearance. He pushes the boundaries of social tact which is something I appreciate in a comedian – if there’s one thing that threatens to send comedy to the grave, it’s political correctness. I got a few laughs out of him but had no qualms ducking to the loo in the middle of his set. On our BLT he’s the contentious tomato, loved by some, while others pick it off and chuck it (at the ceiling, next to the pickles).

So Dave O’Neil is the lettuce. Not particularly substantial, but a necessary ingredient. As a father of young sprogs, his jokes are largely family-man themed, so expect some ‘from the mouths of babes’ type gems (“Dad, do your boobs make milk like Mummy’s?”). And there’s no shortage of garden variety self-deprecatory fat jokes. There were some shining moments but I wasn’t about to launch into a When Harry Met Sally pseudo-orgasm.

But the surprise highlight of the BLT is the bread-and-butter. MC Fox Klein is an unexpected bonus who gets the hungry crowd eating out of his hand. His delivery is energetic, simultaneously theatrical and dry, and deceptively natural – either he is a god of improvised banter (in which case I bow down), or he has perfected the art of looking effortlessly casual. Klein maintains the illusion of spontaneity with aplomb and elegance, and he pumps the chuckle factor right up. Expect the full gamut of penis, vagina and relationship jokes.

Just like a BLT sandwich, the Comic’s Lounge is digestible and trustworthy. If you’re after a comedy turducken or chocolate octopus you may find the Lounge a bit too ‘safe’. But this is a crowd-pleasing venue with reliably good comedians. A good night, great venue, awesome vibe, and at $25, fantastic value.

Hung Le performs at Comic’s Lounge on Tuesdays and Wednesdays in place of Dave O’Neil. Gab Rossi appears with Hung Le @ Comic’s Lounge every Sunday during the festival.

Chuckle Factor: 8.5 / 10 - Rhum.com