For the longest time, it has driven me crazy when I’ve comedians say, “The audience is rough tonight.” It annoyed me because, at the core, it sounded like an excuse, a way to shift blame instead of taking responsibility. My belief was that, as performers, it’s our job to connect, adjust, and make the room laugh. If something doesn’t it, it’s on us to figure out why and fix it.
But the longer I’ve been doing stand-up, the more I realize that sometimes it really is the audience. Now, don’t get me wrong—most of the time, it’s still on the comedian. Poor preparation, weak material, or failure to read the room can kill a set super fast. This has also taught me that there are nights when no amount of effort, wit, or charm can save you, because the audience just isn’t having it. I’ve been in settings where I got to win the crowd back and settings where I had a chance but didn’t.
But when it comes to the rough audiences, I’ve seen it firsthand. I’ve performed at a venue where half the audience or less was there for comedy and the other half or more had no idea there was a show happening. They came for drinks and wings, not jokes. And it can be tough to connect with people who had comedy sprung on them, people who didn’t even sign up to go to a comedy show, who were just expecting to go out for a nice, quiet dinner after a long week.
There are other times when people are so intoxicated they’re basically functioning on a two-second delay. It’s quiet after then punch so you move on. Then, just as you’re on to the next joke, some guy in the back busts out laughing at the previous one. It’s like doing stand-up in slow motion. Or what about the show where people come to see a specific person—maybe a co-worker, friend, family member, etc.—and, for whatever reason, perhaps loyalty issues, they don’t feel like they can laugh at anyone but that person? That’s a real thing that happens more often than one might realize.
Sometimes it seems like you can write the best material in the world, but if the audience walks in with zero interest in comedy, it’s going to be an uphill battle. And sometimes, it’s just a vibe. Really. The energy of a room can be off for a million reasons—bad lighting, awkward seating, a host who didn’t warm up the crowd properly, a host who offended or pissed off the crowd, or even something as simple as a long wait for drinks. Most comedians have performed in rooms that felt flat from the moment they walked in, rooms where it seemed like the collective mood was, “We’d rather be anywhere but here.” I’m not sure if any amount of charm can fix a room that’s already checked out.
Of course, this realization doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned taking responsibility. I’ll never do that. If anything, it’s made me more determined to give every audience my best shot. But it’s also freed me, at least a little, from carrying the weight of a bad show entirely on my shoulders. Some nights, you’re up against factors you can’t control, and that’s okay. (I have to repeatedly remind myself of this.)
In short: I’ve finally started to understand why seasoned comedians say, “Sometimes it’s the audience.” It’s not about shifting blame, well, it shouldn’t be anyway—it’s about recognizing the reality of live performance. Not every audience will be great, just like not every set will be great. The key is learning to roll with it, adapt as best you can, and not let the rough nights shake your confidence. (I also have to repeatedly remind myself of this.)
Stand-up comedy is a partnership between the comedian and the audience. Most nights, both sides do their part. But just as some comedians flop from time to time, every now and then, the audience doesn’t hold up their end of the deal. And when either of those happen, I’ve learned to take a deep breath, move on to the next show, and remind myself that comedy, like life, is often just unpredictable. Sometime it is life.