Press & Media: kenny robinson in the news ....
Clip from CBC Radio Metro Morning Interview with Kenny Robinson
An Interview with Kenny Robinson by the Globe and Mail ...
Your show, the Ebony and Ivory Comedy Bash, is part of Black History Month and you've become more political over the years. Why did you change from simply edgy to edgy for a cause?
It was 2001, I had just finished taping the first season of my sketch comedy show, After Hours, and I was interviewed by the Globe for the front page of the entertainment section... Unfortunately, the piece was set to run Sept. 11, 2001, so by 9 o'clock that morning, nobody really cared about me any more. Since then the war on terror has been really personal to me. I guess you could say that's what started my act's relationship with politics.
Jokes aside, to some extent, as a biracial comedian starting your career in the eighties, you must always have been submerged in politics.
Of course. I was born in Winnipeg, but my mom lived in Chicago. About a week before JFK was assassinated, I moved down there. I was back and forth between Winnipeg and Chicago until I moved to Toronto in the eighties. But I definitely got schooled in segregation when I was in Chicago trying to make a go of my comedy career. The comedy boom was just starting -- there was Zanies, Second City, The Comedy Womb, “where comedians are born.” At the time, white guys played the mainstream clubs, or “white clubs,” black guys played “black clubs.” Because I'm biracial, I guess I was lucky because I could “pass” and play both. But a whole black comedy movement was starting because of this split -- Def Comedy Jam, BET's Comic View -- black guys playing all black audiences, it was beautiful and alive.
Why did you leave Chicago, then?
I was born a Canadian, I wanted to stay one. Coincidentally, I had weaselled my way into a gig as an extra in Blues Brothers. I went up to Dan Aykroyd on set and asked him how to become a comedian in Canada. He said move to Toronto and check out Second City. So, in 1981, I did.
What was the comedy landscape like in Toronto at the time?
It too all seemed like everything was burgeoning. Yuk Yuk’s was starting up. Second City was interesting but there was too much ensemble and workshop stuff you had to go through to get on stage. With standup, all I needed was a microphone and someone to let me on. I ended up hosting wet T-shirt contests down at some rough rooms in the east end. It was hard, but I got stage time, so before the ladies got on, I forced my comedy routine on the audience.
The east end must seem a lot different to you now that it's more gentrified, full of yuppie families, dogs and cafes. If you were starting now, how would your career be different?
My comedy is rough edge. The places where I played produced my act gave me a thick skin. When I started playing “gentile” places like Yuk Yuk’s, I was seen as a kind of barbarian. That's what made me stand out. I don't know that I'd be the same guy if I started now.
Speaking of “standing out,” you started your own version of Def Comedy Jam in Toronto, 17 years ago. Why did you start the Nubian Disciples Comedy Revue?
Well, the fact that in 1994 there was myself and maybe three other black comics working in the country probably sold me on the idea. But I also ran across a lot of black guys who were getting turned away from places like Yuk Yuk’s for being “too black” or “looking like something that came off The Apollo.” I didn't want to start two separate societies like they had down in the States, but I also knew that because I played the white clubs when I was in Chicago, I lost out on hanging out with some real talent. Bernie Mac was playing at the same time as me and was making it huge -- I should have known him. I only discovered him when I started watching Def Jam -- black comics performing in front of black audiences, talking about black life. I wanted to build a forum for black Canadians to do this too. I got black promoters to start pushing comedians at their hip-hop events and it started building. Now, we're the hottest show in the country and we take over Yuk Yuk’s on Richmond once a month.
Toronto is a pretty politically correct city and your act definitely walks the line. How do you feel about the audience here ¬– can it be stuffy?
I definitely prefer the hardcore PC people here to the Aryan Nation types I've had in crowds out west. And, actually, I kind of miss the crazy liberals I used to get in the late eighties when political correctness started to rear its ugly head. There were people who used to get up and confront me during the show. It kept me sharp, like improv. But, to answer your question, yes, the audiences here are slightly afraid to laugh sometimes and can be offended. But I've been doing this for 30 years, my ex-wife turned into a lesbian, I've got three kids and diabetes; I've earned the right to say whatever the hell I want.
Special to The Globe and Mail - This interview has been condensed and edited
It was 2001, I had just finished taping the first season of my sketch comedy show, After Hours, and I was interviewed by the Globe for the front page of the entertainment section... Unfortunately, the piece was set to run Sept. 11, 2001, so by 9 o'clock that morning, nobody really cared about me any more. Since then the war on terror has been really personal to me. I guess you could say that's what started my act's relationship with politics.
Jokes aside, to some extent, as a biracial comedian starting your career in the eighties, you must always have been submerged in politics.
Of course. I was born in Winnipeg, but my mom lived in Chicago. About a week before JFK was assassinated, I moved down there. I was back and forth between Winnipeg and Chicago until I moved to Toronto in the eighties. But I definitely got schooled in segregation when I was in Chicago trying to make a go of my comedy career. The comedy boom was just starting -- there was Zanies, Second City, The Comedy Womb, “where comedians are born.” At the time, white guys played the mainstream clubs, or “white clubs,” black guys played “black clubs.” Because I'm biracial, I guess I was lucky because I could “pass” and play both. But a whole black comedy movement was starting because of this split -- Def Comedy Jam, BET's Comic View -- black guys playing all black audiences, it was beautiful and alive.
Why did you leave Chicago, then?
I was born a Canadian, I wanted to stay one. Coincidentally, I had weaselled my way into a gig as an extra in Blues Brothers. I went up to Dan Aykroyd on set and asked him how to become a comedian in Canada. He said move to Toronto and check out Second City. So, in 1981, I did.
What was the comedy landscape like in Toronto at the time?
It too all seemed like everything was burgeoning. Yuk Yuk’s was starting up. Second City was interesting but there was too much ensemble and workshop stuff you had to go through to get on stage. With standup, all I needed was a microphone and someone to let me on. I ended up hosting wet T-shirt contests down at some rough rooms in the east end. It was hard, but I got stage time, so before the ladies got on, I forced my comedy routine on the audience.
The east end must seem a lot different to you now that it's more gentrified, full of yuppie families, dogs and cafes. If you were starting now, how would your career be different?
My comedy is rough edge. The places where I played produced my act gave me a thick skin. When I started playing “gentile” places like Yuk Yuk’s, I was seen as a kind of barbarian. That's what made me stand out. I don't know that I'd be the same guy if I started now.
Speaking of “standing out,” you started your own version of Def Comedy Jam in Toronto, 17 years ago. Why did you start the Nubian Disciples Comedy Revue?
Well, the fact that in 1994 there was myself and maybe three other black comics working in the country probably sold me on the idea. But I also ran across a lot of black guys who were getting turned away from places like Yuk Yuk’s for being “too black” or “looking like something that came off The Apollo.” I didn't want to start two separate societies like they had down in the States, but I also knew that because I played the white clubs when I was in Chicago, I lost out on hanging out with some real talent. Bernie Mac was playing at the same time as me and was making it huge -- I should have known him. I only discovered him when I started watching Def Jam -- black comics performing in front of black audiences, talking about black life. I wanted to build a forum for black Canadians to do this too. I got black promoters to start pushing comedians at their hip-hop events and it started building. Now, we're the hottest show in the country and we take over Yuk Yuk’s on Richmond once a month.
Toronto is a pretty politically correct city and your act definitely walks the line. How do you feel about the audience here ¬– can it be stuffy?
I definitely prefer the hardcore PC people here to the Aryan Nation types I've had in crowds out west. And, actually, I kind of miss the crazy liberals I used to get in the late eighties when political correctness started to rear its ugly head. There were people who used to get up and confront me during the show. It kept me sharp, like improv. But, to answer your question, yes, the audiences here are slightly afraid to laugh sometimes and can be offended. But I've been doing this for 30 years, my ex-wife turned into a lesbian, I've got three kids and diabetes; I've earned the right to say whatever the hell I want.
Special to The Globe and Mail - This interview has been condensed and edited
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