The Little Fish of New York Standup
New York has long been an epicenter of standup comedy; Woody Allen, Joan Rivers, and George Carlin got their starts here, and countless comic legends have followed. But in 2017, when a spot on a late-night show or a turn at the Comedy Cellar no longer holds the promise of success, the many little fish of the New York standup world swim toward the Creek and the Cave, a digitally savvy and sprawling comedy complex that sits at the lip of Queens. It includes a Mexican restaurant at street level, which has churro ice-cream sandwiches and an abundance of beers on tap; a bare-bones theatre accessed under a bright marquee; and a basement-level bar flanked by pinball machines, where comics rehearse their acts in lieu of conversation. On most Wednesdays, the “Legion of Skanks” show offers up good-natured filth; Cave Comedy Radio, a thriving podcast operation based in the building, churns out bawdy opinions on everything from celebrities to murder; occasionally, icons like Hannibal Buress and Chris Gethard show up for a set. On a recent visit, the gin-and-tonics were ice-cold and cheap, and aspiring comedians thronged the bar in advance of an early-evening open mike. One was scrawling in a notebook—“I think my brain needs a roommate,” he wrote—while another moved his lips soundlessly. In a glassed-off room next to the bar, before an audience composed primarily of comics waiting their turn, a young man in a threadbare gray T-shirt had the stage. “I watch hockey,” he said, “just because I know a guy from high school who’s in the N.H.L., and I want to see him get hurt.” On Thursdays, the wine is five dollars, but getting up to say your piece is always free. ♦
