In the past five years or so, an abundance of articles pertaining to New York comedian Chris Gethard have arisen. More often than not, you'll find that these articles in some way or another speak to Gethard's enigmatic ability to speak to fellow outcasts, as well as his accomplishments within alternative comedy. While this article will focus on exactly that, I'd like to offer the perspective of one such 'geth head', a term used to describe uber fans of "The Chris Gethard Show" and Chris Gethard alike, as well as a depressed and anxiety-ridden individual pursuing art.
My first encounter with "The Chris Gethard Show" was in the summer of 2015. Perusing comedy on Youtube, I happened to see a thumbnail for said show. After one episode, I was hooked. Its offbeat humor and interactivity with audience members and viewers alike was completely unique to me. While already a huge comedy nerd and aspiring comic, most of my go-to's followed the traditional comedian/writer format. Chris Gethard was, and is, different.
After watching the show, I listened to his comedy album, aptly titled "My Comedy Album," and immediately took to it. His stories of depression and anxiety were so relateable, without ever becoming melodramatic. He also managed to speak to his own ability to overcome obstacles without ever becoming self aggrandizing.
Anyone pursuing an active career in the arts will tell you how draining it is. You work for free, and there's a major fear of failure, as there is with anything. The problem with pursuing art is that many of us put everything we have in it, so if we fail, what will we be left with?
Chris Gethard has a motto on his show: Lose Well. It means that while you will lose sometimes, lose so that you learn from your situation and come right back to it. This time, wisdom and resilience are on your side. When I first heard him speak of losing well, it had a huge impact on me. Sure, similar things to this have been said time and time again, but this was from someone who was a fellow mentally ill person.
This past November, I visited New York for the first time. The mecca for stand up comedy. I went to see Chris Gethard perform his new special Career Suicide. Pretending to be a confident and savvy New Yorker, I took the train from the Bronx to Brooklyn and waited in a bar where the show would be held. I drank red wine by myself, which is a sad experience for anyone. But, alas, I was going to see one of my heroes. After a phone call with my brother, I went downstairs and got in line.
I sat front row for the performance. Chris Gethard's performance ran for about an hour and change. I got lost on the way back to my Aunt's place, where I was staying in New York. While it took me about an hour and a half to get to the show, returning from it took about four. I was scared, and lost in New York. I finally got back to my Aunt's place, kicked off my shoes, and went to bed.
Getting lost was more than worth it. It's so rare to see people communicate the very common ideas of sadness and loneliness openly. But Chris Gethard does it. For the first time in a long time, I felt right in the world. I felt less alone. And I knew that my goal would be to make someone else feel the exact same way that I did that night. With my words, and with art.
Art is such an amazingly universal tool for connection. We feel from it, and we learn from it. And when you're honest in your art, you can change people's lives.
