Folks find this out about Todd Barry not more than ten seconds after he opens his mouth, but for those that haven't yet been exposed to this man's work on the stage and screen, please take note of the following and plan accordingly: Mr. Barry is a sarcastic son of a gun. And I might be underplaying just how sarcastic he is. Just about every statement he makes comes fully equipped with its own exasperated eye-roll. Having such sentiments delivered in a deadpan voice that even at its most excited brings to mind a sardonic golf announcer only accentuates their withering world-weariness. He doesn't suffer fools, and fortunately for his comedy his definition of "fool" doesn't discriminate-- it includes star-struck realtors, audience members showing some benign beer-powered school spirit, the Gawker media empire, dumb ass fans e-mailing him about the age limit of a club he's playing, and, of course, renowned comedic stylist and voice actor Todd Barry. Unfortunately, From Heaven turns out to be a poor showcase for Barry's formidable talents.
The album was recorded in front of a readily receptive crowd at the Comedy Studio in Cambridge, Mass., the renowned Chinese restaurant/comedy club that gave birth to (among others) the upright Eeyore to whom Barry and many other comics owe their career, Steven Wright. Barry's act is spread across sixteen tracks, though the tracks aren't their own succinct skits. Each track contains three or more jokes that might or might not be thematically related. This slice-and-dice is mildly inconvenient, and utilitarian track titles like "Preachy Singer, English Washer, Alabama, Pittsburgh" aren't the most memorable or graceful things (though "Anal, Set An Alarm" is a notable exception). That said, it's a toss up between this configuration and making like the Minutemen or Naked City by offering over forty tracks, some of which barely last a minute. For the sake of interested iTuners, erring on the side of less tracks is definitely the way to go.
What keeps this run-on hodgepodge of jokes held together is Barry's comedic acumen and charisma. While it might seem odd that someone in a perpetual slouch could possess charisma, it's easy to imagine the same material bombing in the hands of a different performer. Barry might strike the pose of a slacker elder statesman, but he attacks his act with the precision of a true professional. When he resorts to tried and true stand-up lead-ins ("You guys on the MySpace?"), it's done with a knowing smirk and wink ("yeah, I'm on the MySpace, why not? I'm only 43"). If a joke seemingly runs aground or outlasts its welcome, Barry immediately cops to its failure and plays off it. A bit about "a-dor-a-blay" prairie dogs and comparatively underwhelming panda bears becomes a half-ass metaphor about Barry (the prairie dog) opening for other comics that seems to garner a so-bad-it's-good round of applause-- Barry acknowledges the reception by noting the joke's spotty success rate, and then keeps the show moving. He's also savvy enough to know when to keep on beating a dead joke until it comes back to some semblance of life.
The snags in From Heaven come when Barry goes to the well once too often. Jokes that might sound great the one time they're heard while sitting in an audience shrivel up and die upon a second or third listen on this disc. A leadoff gag about Barry chilling and swapping high-fives with his buddy Chris Rock discussing the nobodies that open his act is spot-on, as is a little skit about having someone read his e-mail. But with every subsequent self-referential dart about his stature (financial or otherwise) in the entertainment industry-- the aforementioned prairie dog/panda discussion, a riff on his apartment being featured in Architectural Digest as The Pretentious Douchebag Palace, his hatred of certain abbreviated words ruining a date with Julia Roberts-- the reversed-negative aw-shucks charm quickly fades. The same goes for some of Barry's observational bits-- more often that not, he's able to find something out of left field to offer a refreshing POV about quotidian things, but bits about a "Nurses Kick Butt" t-shirt and Chipotle's McDonalds affiliation come off lazy and sub-Seinfeldian.
The jokes on From Heaven that have the most replay value are those where Barry actually gets worked up and lays into something worthy of his ire, be it someone's casual bigotry about the South or someone asking Barry right before his set to rag on an audience member for his birthday. Of course, "worked up" is a relative term-- even at his most excitable, Barry sounds like he's asking a bank teller for a receipt, which actually makes these scathing takedowns even more potent and humorous. Unfortunately for this consummate comedic professional, these inspired moments are few and far between. The more one listens to From Heaven, the more it sounds like just another day at the office.
