Kyle Kinane comes to the Soho Theatre bearing plaudits from America and his recent acclaimed appearance at the Melbourne Comedy Festival. He is supposed to be a cut above the usual slick US comedy fraternity. He certainly looks different in his heavily bearded press pictures, a little like a young sibling of Seasick Steve. So it’s a bit of a shock when he walks onstage relatively clean-shaven and takes off his hat to reveal a close-cropped coiffure and looks more like Alan Shearer.
But then Kinane is full of surprises. I don’t, for instance, think I’ve ever heard a comedian mention pickled eggs onstage before. He might be a non-conformist, but his set is not quite as out there as, say, Doug Stanhope. Kinane has his doubts about libertarianism for instance – he suggests that the last thing society needs is people running around with guns while high on drugs. And he adds with a gruff twinkle that he knows the effects that drugs can have on a person.
This seasoned Chicagoan has plenty of hinterland to talk about. Some of his subject matter, from sex to California therapy culture to middle-aged decay, is more generic than I expected, but he delivered it to a half-empty room (it was World Cup semi-final night) with subtle charisma and commitment. He is the kind of pro who looks as if he is not trying very hard but is probably working his butt off.
We don’t really need yet another routine about pornography but Kinane sells it well. He explains how he recently did an interview for the print edition of Hustler, but jokes that hardly anyone will see it in this digital age unless there is a revival of analogue porn in the same way that vinyl is back in vogue. His riff on his parents being so supportive they tried to buy a copy is pretty persuasive too.
If the personal material hit home, it was interesting that his audience was clearly attracted to the idea that he was some kind of comedy renegade. When he suggested getting “weird” towards the end it got one of the biggest cheers of the night.
This led into his story of a dubious sexual encounter. Kinane, who has set himself up as one of life's losers, pulls it off, but like Brendon Burns, whose early evening show precedes him here, he walks a thin line as he cleverly plays with notions of offence. I’m not sure if Kinane is quite the comedy saviour I was expecting, but you won’t hear a better gag about pickled eggs this year.
Kyle Kinane is at The Soho Theatre until July 13 and has just added extra shows on July 16 & 17. Tickets here.
