Music
Interview
Gianmarco Soresi was once a singing waiter
We get stuck in a lift with the New York comedian, who's back with new show The Misery Loves Tour
For Gianmarco Soresi, misery is no longer just a family affair. His previous show, Thief of Joy, mined the fallout of his upbringing and his parents’ divorce. With The Misery Loves Tour, the American comedian is looking further outwards, taking in the anxieties of approaching 40, the prospect of marriage and parenthood, and the increasingly complicated business of figuring out where, and how, to live.
“There’s a delayed growing up, probably from the fucked up family,” he tells me, explaining how his new material has developed alongside his own changing circumstances. Having reached 38, and with a relationship pushing him to think more seriously about the future, he’s increasingly preoccupied with questions that extend beyond his own life. “It’s always from the perspective of coming from a broken home, but now, how do I fend for myself in the world?”
The new show takes its name from the age-old adage ‘misery loves company’, but cynicism – if not full-on anguish – is certainly the New Yorker’s bagel and schmear; his hit podcast, The Downside with Gianmarco Soresi, sees him interview celebrity guests about the disappointments and miseries of their lives. Inspired by the tragicomedy and self-deprecation of traditional Jewish humour and championed by acts such as Rodney Dangerfield, this style of comedy is more than just a coping mechanism, Soresi argues. “It’s just the only way I’m able to take in the world, because there’s so much misery, whether there’s a deep existential misery, whether there’s small miseries of dealing with bureaucracy, love, friendship, that a lot of comedy for me is having all these negative thoughts – and I want to complain! But there’s complaining through a lens that is inviting and that is enjoyable and to me that’s what comedy is.
Turning the proverb’s negative meaning on its head then, The Misery Loves Tour is an invitation of solidarity. “I hope that the show itself is a place where people can vicariously complain through me,” he says. “I understand that you can kind of not try to pretend you don’t have cynical or negative thoughts, or that you don’t realise everything’s fucked up and kind of designed to make you feel shitty, but rather go, oh yeah, it is that way, so let’s revel in it for a bit.”
This outlook lands particularly well this side of the Atlantic, which would explain the success of the UK run so far. “There seems to be even less sensitivity around all things,” he says of British audiences, pointing to the particular pleasure of making fun of America from afar. “There is a freedom, not that the UK doesn’t have its own propaganda, but with the things that I talk about, it feels just refreshing, an ability to go there, and not needing to be earnest, it just feels fun.”
Who would you most like to be stuck in a lift with?
I think it would probably be intense, but Daniel Day-Lewis is still a dream person that I want to learn more about. You know, I was a musical theatre guy, but then once I realised singing was not where I was going to be making money, I dove so deep into acting. Daniel Day-Lewis was just that idol that still holds such a sacred place. I feel like he’s probably tough to talk to, he’s very sombre and melancholy and poetic and aloof. But when you’re stuck on an elevator, you get blunt real fast and I would love to see what he is like outside of what I imagined is a bit of a put-on mysticism. Perhaps in that lift, I could ask him some stories about all the apocryphal tales of his method acting. That would be a dream, and I just can’t imagine us having a real conversation unless we were truly stuck.
Who would you least like to be stuck in a lift with?
If we’re gonna make it appropriate to this tour, Ricky Gervais would be tough. Maybe we’d have a good conversation, but I think to me, he certainly is the British companion to a lot of these American comedians, whether it be Bill Maher, or [Dave] Chappelle, where I feel so frustrated by their perspective, mixed with the admiration I have for so much of their earlier work and their influence on my high school and college days. Ricky Gervais, you know, via The Office, is central to American comedy, and it’s so frustrating that I think if I was stuck in a lift… maybe it’d be fun? Maybe that’s the chance to have a real conversation and go, what the hell, man? What the hell are you talking about? What are you complaining about? You’re almost a billionaire? I don’t know, 30 minutes in a lift probably wouldn’t be enough time, it would just be the lecture portion, or the kind of complaining portion. So I’d say Ricky Gervais and Bill Maher in equal measure would be insufferable lift mates.
It’s not even that he’s said anything controversial, but still complaining about how people are going to cry at the “cancel me” tour. Truly, I don’t think there’s anything, any perspective this guy’s sharing that I’d find even upsetting. I might disagree, but it’s such a view of people being dumb and bringing on a kind of person who’s angry at something. People who are angry at something and I don’t think it’s trans people that you’re angry at. You are mad that society is not encouraging a healthy dynamic amongst your fellow man. It’s just money. You start being above the problems of a society functioning and so it’s easy to just look down at the people who are loud and complaining and you go, they’re the problem.
What’s the weirdest interaction you’ve had with a famous person?
Bill Burr. A long time ago when I was hosting at a really bad comedy club in Times Square called LOL, he came in, they didn’t know who he was, and when he asked to do a spot – he had just sold out Madison Square Garden – the booker said, “I’ll give you the email so you can send a tape”.
I saw him the next day at a different comedy club and I was hosting, and I thought this would be a nice opportunity to connect with him. And I said, you know, hey, Bill, and I was about to bring him up and I was like, this thing happened at the club and it’s the club I work at and all the comedians, we were so pissed off they didn’t let you go up and yeah. He was like “…okay!” and turned away. It’s one of those things I’m sure a million people who look just like me have approached Bill and within seconds have asked to be his opener. He was about to go up and I think I understand more now… you know, everyone wants to have a moment with with a person like that, especially as a comedian. He could have given me a chuckle and “old attaboy,” but I also understand. He probably had a gig the next day and needed to focus on his notes.
What was the last show you went to?
I saw a really good musical at the Edinburgh Fringe. I saw a lot of shows at Fringe, but there was a two-hander musical called Hole, and it was a very creatively told, queer coming of age story about a priest who has a revelation that everyone needs to put a wooden plug up their butts or else they would be sent to some equivalent of hell. It was two people playing dozens of characters on a big round stage, evocative of the whole itself, and different microphones and sound effects like a radio play, but also told in a way that was meant to be viewed.
It was just incredible. Sometimes when you get in the weeds of stand-up comedy, you can view being edgy or brave as through a very singular lens. Like you say this perspective, and you forget like how a kind of vulnerability can be edgy, a way of talking about sex that isn’t necessarily always just shocking in your face, is brave and bold and it was just such a good reminder to see that and a lot of great clowning shows in Edinburgh where you go like, oh, there’s so many different ways to be funny. There’s so many different ways to be brave. There’s so many different ways to shock. Especially as someone who’s been doing stand-up as long as I have, it would be so hard for a stand-up comedian to shock me. But when I go to a clowning show, I can see people use their bodies in a way that I go, oh my God, I’m screaming! For other people, stand up is that thing. They go, oh, I can’t believe he said that, I’m screaming. So to get to feel that feeling is nice.
What work of yours didn’t get the attention that you think it deserves?
When I was in my actor days, I was lucky enough. I got booked sort of as the spokesman for General Electric when it was still a prominent company. I’m sure it still is, but it’s declined since they let me go. And I made a lot of money out of the blue, and I almost immediately spent it on a sketch comedy series called Matza Pizza.
I was still new to considering myself a comedian. I’d grown up with so many different comedy, but now I was like watching CollegeHumor and Above Average with all these online sketch shows and my mind was just filled with ideas without necessarily a focus that would allow it to be palatable to a wider audience. So I poured six figures, at least a hundred something thousand dollars into just producing a sketch series with no real vision other than whatever was my fancy. There was a one-minute sketch that took place in the subway. There were eight-minute sketches that were high concept pieces of Daniel Day-Lewis being a bad auditioner. There was a workout series called P90X, and suddenly I was doing an impression of this guy who couldn’t figure out how to motivate people, so he said if you stop doing push-ups, I’m going to have sex with your dad.
It was like someone handed me a blank check to just do whatever I wanted. Except I was writing that check and I should have held on to some of it. It was crazy. But looking back on it, some of it was really cool and unbridled, not bound by the need to build an audience. Maybe it should have been, but I learned so much just suddenly going to sets that I was funding and working with eight different collaborators, so many different directors. And in a way, it’s like I hope to someday have the ability to go back to that thing, but hopefully with more oversight. I threw myself into the fire and learned so much from it. I don’t know, I’m too close to it to know how good it might be, but it’s one of those things I want people to see because it’s so close to the vein of like what I’m trying to do as a comedian.
What’s the worst advice you’ve ever been given?
I think the worst advice was to pursue singing professionally. Part of this is connected to having a certain degree of OCD, but being a singer is such, it’s such a craft that unless you’re naturally gifted at it, you can waste so much time just practising a thing that maybe your body’s not necessarily designed to do at a professional level. And I think what’s so tough about singing is your vocal cords and whatnot are hidden. They’re hidden from you. If you were a basketball player and you were 4ft 4 and trying to be in the NBA, people would advise you to not do this, to maybe figure out a different way for you to interact with that sport. But as a singer, maybe you’ll get better, but you can’t see it. You can’t grasp it fully. I think I spent so long leaning into my inclinations of like, I love to train. I love to practise. I love a regimented thing. That prevented me from doing, that prevented me from forcing myself, oh, make a movie, make a short, make a sketch, go do this thing. But instead, it feels like I spent 4 years of my youth cloistered in a practice room doing scales and not necessarily growing artistically. I wish someone had been like, you got something kid, but it’s not singing!
Do you remember the moment you realised this?
You know, unfortunately, I’m prone to very slow revelations that take years. I think it was literally being a senior in college, musical theatre college, and being like, why am I still struggling at this ensemble rehearsal? Why am I still cracking on this note? I swear to God, the whole point was by now, I’d be over this?
What did the 12-year-old you think you’d be doing now?
Movie star, sitcoms, Broadway… I liked stand-up growing up, I didn’t listen to it voraciously, but my mom very fortunately introduced me to George Carlin right around 12. So I think I would have definitely found stand-up comedy very cool, but I think right around 12 I was like, I’m going to be a Broadway star! I don’t think I was able to fully grasp at that age, how miserable it would be to do eight shows a week, and the neuroses that came along with it. So I do think I would have found what I do cool, but I saw myself at that age more of a full-on Leonardo DiCaprio level movie star.
What’s the worst job that you’ve ever had?
I was briefly a singing waiter. And that is, uh… brutal because it combined a passion that I wasn’t necessarily good at with waiting tables. No one really wanted the singing, or no one seemed to understand that because you were singing, maybe you wouldn’t be as good at the waitering part. You know, it’s a lot to ask of your server. So they would see you sing and applaud you, but then be frustrated their water hadn’t been refilled. And you were like, well, you saw why? You saw why…
If you had to have a song playing every time you walked into a room, what would it be?
Right now it’s ‘Cabaret‘, which is a little bit new because I do think there’s a degree of… that is my life. It has all been sacrificed for the sake of doing a show that night. But at the end of the day, I’m an emo kid and I think I want attention, so My Chemical Romance, ‘I’m Not Okay’. It’s almost like a desire to be asked, “How are you doing?” So I could be like, “NOT GOOD.” I think being a performer, it’s like, oh, I’m doing the thing I need to do to function normally in the rest of my life, so I am getting a chance to go on stage and go “I’m not okay” and get applauded for that. Then I can go and be a normal human being with my with my friends and partner.
![My Chemical Romance - I'm Not Okay (I Promise) [Official Music Video - 4K Film Restored]](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/dhZTNgAs4Fc/0.jpg)
What’s the skill that no one else knows that you’re great at?
I’m really good at yoga. Whatever years I was pursuing acting, yoga was new and fresh. So I’ve been doing it since I was in high school, so I’m really good at yoga. I can do a good headstand, a good elbow stand, and yeah, I’m good enough at yoga that if I take a regular class, the teacher goes, “Really great practice!”
I struggle on the road but actually today someone offered to give me a private yoga session and I’m like, finally, so I can find a session that can challenge me.
What’s your controversial food opinion?
I love a plain snow cone. Listen, I’m very health conscious now, but this did not start as a health conscious thing. I think the flavours were just sugary in a way that was too much or too fruity, too strong. I like the texture. I love the texture. I love ice melting. I love when you get to the bottom of the cup, the texture is now so slushy. It’s magical. It’s always been my thing since that age. I love a plain snow cone. It’s the best. Just ice. I’m a grazer, as they say, so I chew gum, I used to suck on my shirt, I chew pens, and a snow cone’s a way to just constantly have something going on with my jaw. It’s really refreshing, and I think it should be more of a thing.
Do you have any superstitions?
You know, I am very anti-superstition. I’m anti-woo woo, that I purposefully, when I feel that pang of a superstition try to do it. I try to walk under ladders because I go, it’s not real. I try to say Macbeth, which unsurprisingly, somehow that comes up in my crowd work, more often than not, someone brings up the, you know, they’ll say that, oh, I was, I was doing “the show that you can’t say in a theatre” and I go, I’m gonna say it! Even if I’m a little bit nervous. So listen, I have enough OCD like freaking out about my voice and stretching and forgetting this joke and forgetting that name that when you have enough OCD thoughts, you don’t need superstition to fuck up your day.
