STAGE TIME Magazine - Jim Norton, Brett Eidman

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The answer to Brett Eidman's
question could be, depending
on your point of view, either:
"Dick jokes and references to
Jews and homos! Ha ha!" or,
"Um, nothing." Fans who listen
to Dr. Demento and/or 13
year-old boys are two groups
who would no doubt enjoy
What's So F#@K'N Funny?

The CD is a 40-minute
collection of sketches and
songs. Out of the 11 tracks,
five are about dick, two are
about pussy, two are answering
machine messages (one about
a Jew and the other is about
President Bush that also
mentions dick and pussy.)

If the idea of a priest
molestation hotline, a
commercial narrated by a
Homo Depot worker who "just
does decks!," a horny, dis-
gruntled clown, or a nun
visiting the Ob/Gyn makes
you chuckle, this is the CD for
you.

In his online bio, Brett Eidman
says he's learned that, "You
should try and perform to the
highest level of your intelli-
gence and go beyond that to
your audience's level."

Seeing that Eidman appre-
ciates sarcasm, I'll say that the
performances on this CD were
stellar. The vocalist who
appears on every track that
requires a female's voice is
remarkably convincing.

It doesn't sound at all like
anyone had one eye on the
clock and one eye on a coffee-
stained script, wondering what
time they could skip out of the
studio.

If your answer is "a Chinese
restaurant named Mi Dik" to
the age-old inquiry, What's So
F#@K'N Funny?, look for the CD
whose cover features a clown
pushing a shopping cart and
sporting a balloon erection.
You'll dig it.

-DeAnne Smith

It's the site where both of his albums were
recorded, and where the crowds are always
happiest to see his round, chinless face. But for
some reason Hollywood Jimmy hasn't headlined
the Factory in ages. Sure he's shown up for the
occasional benefit or to do a guest set to warm up
for last year's HBO special (coming soon to DVD),
but since the runaway train that is the Opie and
Anthony show has returned to the airwaves, Norton
hasn't headlined a weekend gig in New Brunswick.

Suffice it to say, he packed the crowds in for all
six shows Memorial Day weekend, and the ram-
bunctious swarms of fans couldn't have been
happier to see him. Ordinarily on a holiday
weekend you'll good amount of people who
simply want to see a comedy show, regardless of
the performer, but when he took the stage at
Saturday's early show (wearing that same
damned shirt he wore the last three times I've
seen him), it was obvious that they were here to
see their favorite radio sidekick do what he does
best.

If anything, the audience was perhaps too happy
to see Jim. The only hecklers came in the form of
over-excited super fans. One was summarily
ejected for having "the timing of diarrhea in the
ninth inning. Another Jim responded to by drop-
ping his pants around his ankles and shuffling
around the stage with his thumb in his mouth in
an attempt to point out that he looked a bit too
much like Full Metal Jacket's Gomer Pyle.

manages to veer into an "angry comic" cliché.
It's fitting that he just finished some big gigs with
Dave Attell; their styles are a perfect fit. Of course
you won't find Norton recalling drunken benders or
extolling the virtues of midgets, but the bawdy
and silly material is likely to please the same
audience.

But what makes Norton's act so great is its
personal, almost confessional nature. Not only is
Jim at ease in front of a crowd, but at times it
seems like that's where he's most comfortable.

While not everything he says on stage is based
on truth, the best moments of his show come
when he's telling his real stories of public humili-
ation, as he recalls attempting to relate to the
likes of 50 Cent and Frank Vincent, or his repeat-
ed failures to woo the members of the opposite
sex that don't advertise their services on Craigs-
list.

Jim Norton has earned his cult following. He might
not be known for his TV or film credits, but he's
gained a reputation as one of the true originals
working the comedy circuit today. Brutally honest,
filled with hate, and yet always a lot of fun, he is
certainly not one to disappoint a hometown crowd.