latenight

Jack Tucker descends from the rafters inside L.A.’s Montalbán Theatre like a kamikaze crash landing into his big moment. He’s flanked by fountain fireworks while a buff guitarist with a blond mullet and glittery spandex shorts wails on guitar to the tune of Lenny Kravitz’s cover of “American Woman.” With the garish gusto of a WWE wrestler, Tucker’s entrance as the ringleader of the show “Stamptown” electrifies the stage.

But the show truly starts when it falls apart with technical mishaps. Everything breaks, guns go off, an illusionist loses his clothes and jumps fully nude into the crowd — all within the first five minutes.

It’s a chaotic comedy world created by classically trained performers, including clowns, who’ve studied the art of physical humor and shredded the rule book. For more than 10 years the Stamptown troupe led by Tucker, the alter ego of comedian Zach Zucker, has created an insane asylum on stage — from Elysian Theater in Echo Park to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in Scotland. The show’s comedy thrives on failure, interruption and never actually getting to the “script.” This week the madness leaps from the stage to the screen as Stamptown premieres its first Netflix special Tuesday.

“This is a lot of people’s first time being exposed to this,” Zucker said, cracking a mischievous smile while sitting in a red velvet chair inside the empty Elysian Theater where his crew has performed “Stamptown” for years. “I have seen a man light his penis on fire 45 times in my show. I forget that when it comes to comedy, most people are used to seeing a person with one microphone stand still and talk.”

Filmed over the course of three performances during Netflix Is a Joke Fest in May, the spliced together “Stamptown” special directed by Rachel Lee Goldenberg and edited by show co-creator Dylan Woodley captures the chaos of clowning mixed with a cerebral roast of traditional comedy and plenty of playful danger. The result isn’t a piece of art but rather “a pile of art,” Zucker said.

“Our strength is being a ‘you gotta see it to believe it’ type of performance, but if I really had to boil it down, it’s a modern day vaudevillian variety show that features any and all alternative performances … our ethos is, ‘against all odds, this show works,’ ” Zucker said.

Zach Zucker tosses props in the air inside the Elysian Theater.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

On a recent afternoon, the lanky, mustachioed Zucker, wearing a T-shirt, ballcap and small hoop earrings, bears little resemblance to his comic alter ego who sports a tattered suit with gag props stuffed in every pocket. In real life, the New York native is a former baseball and basketball star athlete who went down an extremely different path to become “a bisexual traveling clown.” After enrolling in what he assumed would be an easy acting class during his senior year of high school, Zucker became obsessed with improv and comedy. His teacher advised him to check out the renowned improv troupe Second City. So he flew to Chicago to see the show “Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies” featuring Tim Robinson, Sam Richardson, Timothy Edward Mason and more. “It changed my life,” he said.

After taking up comedy classes and street performances on the East Coast, Zucker quickly transitioned to working in theater and eventually moved to L.A. at 18 to pursue comedy, interning at Upright Citizens Brigade. He scrubbed toilets in exchange for free improv classes. It was at UCB where he first crossed paths with celebrated clown teacher Philippe Gaulier, whose former students include Sacha Baron Cohen, Rachel Weisz and Geoffrey Rush. The wily, frizzy-haired Frenchman with red-framed spectacles taught Zucker everything he knows about clowning.

“Our strength is being a ‘you gotta see it to believe it’ type of performance, but if I really had to boil it down, it’s a modern day vaudevillian variety show that features any and all alternative performances … our ethos is, ‘against all odds, this show works,’” Zach Zucker said.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

“Philippe is by far my greatest influence,” Zucker said. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him or that I’m not actively implementing all the lessons he taught me as a man and as an artist.”

One of those lessons became the ethos of “Stamptown”: “If you’re having fun, maybe we like you. If you’re not having fun, for sure we hate you.”

Inspired by his wisdom, Zucker moved to France for two years to study with Gaulier. It was there that he met his future “Stamptown” collaborator Jonny Woolley, a Canadian performer who became the show’s sound tech, adding to the menagerie of aural mayhem through sound effects that punctuate the show’s every move.

“There’s a lot of different ways of approaching clowning, but ultimately, for us, it’s more of a philosophical approach to making art than it is like a rigorous set of rules or styles. It’s just being a lovable idiot,” Woolley said.

The name “Stamptown” is a tribute to the place where they learned their artform: the town of Estampes (which loosely translates to “Stamp”) in France where they studied with Gaulier, who died this year before the special was filmed.

Though he‘s known for his offbeat humor, Zucker’s brain is firing on a perpetual metronome. He’s snapping his fingers incessantly during our interview while describing the comedic timing of each show, which grooves like a jazz band on stage.

”Sometimes there’s a few different rhythms that I’m balancing at once. I can really zone in on what is the most fruitful at the moment while still keeping these other balls in the air,” he said. “Thankfully we’re not always pushing a message. Sometimes it is just about entertaining the crowd at all costs.”

Before “Stamptown,” Zucker was performing with Norwegian friend and fellow clown Viggo Venn as “Zach & Viggo,” a side act in the original variety show Zucker started with his friends in 2017 in Melbourne called “Midnight Madness” that eventually turned into “Stamptown.”

Working with Venn, Woolley and Woodley, Zucker devised the show to include a rotating cast of clowns, and comedic performers from around the world, including L.A. Staples in the local clown community include the slapstick of clown kingpin Chad Damiani playing a janitor, comedic actor Natalie Palamides as a comedy nepo fetus birthed by Riki Lindhome of “Garfunkel and Oates” and the riotously robotic gyrations of Courtney Pauroso as fembot temptress Vanessa 5000.

“‘Stamptown’ is extraordinary; it’s finely calculated nonsense,” said actor Neil Patrick Harris, a longtime friend and supporter of Zucker who appears on the Netflix special, in a statement to The Times. “Each performance is unique — stand-ups colliding with circus artists, and improvisers swapping talents and fluids, even the stagehands’ utter chaos and running gags, a ridiculous fever dream … it’s absurdly genius.”

The international performers who have become part of the “Stamptown” universe run the gamut from jugglers to steel drum players to acrobats to pianists. Trans comedian Jordan Gray is extremely unafraid to bare it all, including her soul, when behind the piano. The physicality of the performances goes beyond regional references and punchlines that might get some laughs in one country but not in others. Venn says it’s clear that at their core people tend to share the same sense of humor.

“It was fascinating to us to see that in Australia and France and England and the U.S., they really laugh at the same things if it’s like a deeply human kind of failure,” Venn said. “That’s the beauty of this show.”

Zach Zucker sits inside the Elysian Theater in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

A tangled web of masterfully timed sound effects has unintentionally become the heartbeat of “Stamptown” . With Woolley now living full time in London, the duties for the U.S. shows were recently passed down to fellow performer Jeremy Elder, who did the sounds for the Netflix special tapings. He says the show is at its best when they throw out the game plan for the night, even while filming for Netflix.

“I think it’s as soon as we went off script, the audience could feel that. In the final product, we planned so much, but once you’re in the room with people it’s a very clown-like sentiment to just roll with what the audience is feeling,” Elder said.

While traditional stand-up is Netflix’s bread and butter for comedy programming, this form of comedy is mostly a target for mockery in “Stamptown” to show how limiting it is compared with the physical comedy of clowning. The one caveat, Zucker says — a clown is by far the most embarrassing brand of comedian you can be.

“It’s not cool, you don’t do this to be cool,” he said, laughing. “The whole point is that with all the love and fantasy and pleasure of your life, you have to step in a bucket of s— over and over and over and enjoy it. ‘Isn’t it awesome how I humiliate myself for you?’ And you embrace it.”

When CBS ended “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert” earlier this year, it also shuttered the program’s robust music offerings — a major blow for artists whose television platform was already dwindling.

Performing on late-night has historically been a unique avenue for musicians hoping to access new audiences — think of a rising Chappell Roan on “The Late Show” or even The Beatles on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” But when James Corden left CBS’ “The Late Late Show” in 2023, his program — and its coveted performance space — was never revived. NBC’s “Late Night With Seth Meyers” has cut back on live music, while ABC’s “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” reduced performances to twice a week. As it stands, only NBC’s “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” consistently books live performances.

Emerging artists still see incredible value in these performances — and are hopeful that nascent online programming will offer a new alternative.

Breaking through on late-night

March 3, 2014, was the day that changed everything for rock band Future Islands. The synth-pop group was a stalwart of America’s underground music scene due in no small part to charismatic frontman Samuel T. Herring and his idiosyncratic voice, somewhere between Tom Waits and Rammstein’s Till Lindemann. That day, they performed on “Late Show with David Letterman,” and the host was transfixed. “I’ll take all of that you got!” Letterman cheered, and the DIY band was cast into true virality.

“At the time that we played Letterman, we were in a transitory period for the band,” said bassist William Cashion. They’d signed to the larger indie label 4AD Records, hired management and were promised a late-night TV spot but never thought it would pan out. “Our team, they told us, ‘It’ll be good for your fans and your friends and family, but it’s not really going to move the needle. These things don’t really do what they used to,’” he recalls.

But that wasn’t the case.

“All the festivals that initially turned us down all of a sudden wanted us to come play. Everything kind of shifted after that moment,” he said. “It was definitely a huge turning point and gave the band much greater exposure.”

A dearth of late-night spots particularly affects independent acts — the kind that could really benefit from the exposure, just like Future Islands. Representatives for CBS, NBC and ABC did not return The Associated Press’ requests for comment.

Chloë Walsh, co-founder of publicity firm The Oriel, points to the music bookers behind the scenes. “Of course, they have to book all the biggest things in the world, but they also have things that they want to champion,” she says. Fewer slots means developing artists are competing with big names for dwindling opportunities.

But there are other avenues to discovery.

“We’re kind of an anomaly in the way that our song and that performance took off,” says Cashion. “But we’ve seen other bands have TikTok viral hits and stuff like that.”

There are many examples of artists cracking the code online: Singer-songwriter Gigi Perez’s career was launched with the TikTok smash “Sailor Song,” as was Malcolm Todd’s with a few viral hits, landing him a major label deal with Columbia Records. Indie band Beach Bunny saw their punky-pop go viral with “Prom Queen” just ahead of the pandemic, leading to performances on Kimmel and Fallon.

Even legacy artists are experiencing second winds of music discovery: Weezer’s 2010s power-pop track “Go Away,” featuring Best Coast’s Bethany Cosentino, recently made the rounds on TikTok and became a top song for both on Spotify.

“It seems like a lot of different aspects of the album cycle have kind of been replaced with short-form content,” Beach Bunny singer Lili Trifilio explained. “And it is a bummer because late-night is a service to musicians in such a major way. You are helping people reach new fans.”

“And I think now a lot of the responsibility of advertising is falling on the artists to be their own late-night special on TikTok or whatever,” she continued. “I don’t think that these 30-second, one-minute self-made clips hold the same value.”

Internet creators reimagine traditional formats

“The media landscape is always changing. Sometimes that’s good for music and sometimes it’s bad for music,” says Walsh. “There’s a whole breed of young creators at the moment doing really interesting stuff. … Hopefully there will be more opportunities out there and we don’t have to rely on the networks.”

She points to “Track Star(asterisk),” the online music trivia series, which has begun hosting live performances, and to Julian Shapiro-Barnum of “Recess Therapy,” who has launched a late-night YouTube show, “Outside Tonight,” that features live performances.

Shapiro-Barnum says “Outside Tonight” was born out of necessity. “We know that the entertainment industry is hard to break into. And so, what’s been so cool about digital media is that it’s circumvented that,” he says.

“How can we do late night, but different?” was his approach. The show takes place outdoors, bypassing a traditional studio. The musical bookings also lean independent. Recent performers include rapper Erick the Architect, indie rock soloist Annie DiRusso and the multi-instrumentalist and experimentalist L’Rain.

“There was no version of the show that didn’t have music,” he says. “To me, it feels like a staple.”

Beach Bunny performed during the first “Outside Tonight” episode.

“It’s so cool to see people that are like movers and makers be like, ‘Hey, this is a gap I’m seeing. Late-night is being placed on the back burner. We need to revive this; I’m gonna figure it out,’” Trifilio said. “I hope that it inspires other people to step up.”

She sees it as part of a larger YouTube renaissance, shifting away from prioritizing short-form content.

“I think that people are yearning for some longer-format stuff,” she says.

The power for live performance is exposure — not sales

In traditional late-night TV spots, artists benefit from exposure — but that doesn’t necessarily mean a jump in sales. Ideally, that will also translate to these new media spaces.

“It’s a showcase for touring. And that’s really where artists make their money,” says Walsh. “People say, ‘It doesn’t really give you a bump if you’re on a late-night TV show.’ They’re looking at the sales, they’re not looking at a promoter in Minneapolis going, ‘Oh my god, I want that,’ or a radio playlist director saying, ‘Oh that was fantastic, we should add that.’”

“Every musical guest who’s come on ‘Outside Tonight,’ everyone in the crew, everyone in the audience, has not stopped listening,” says Shapiro-Barnum. “In real time, it spreads and creates all these fans. So, I have to imagine that happens online as well.”

But for many, landing a late-night TV performance is still the north star of a press run.

“For a lot of people — especially international artists that are coming to slog it out across the U.S. in some club shows they may not even be headlining — if you could get on ‘Jimmy Kimmel,’ it’s like we’ve cracked it,” says Walsh. “The whole thing was worth it. And that’s huge.”

Sherman writes for the Associated Press.