How can a guy with an organ be so good?
This article is from 2010.
On the back of outlandishly glowing reviews from the heavyweight papers and keeping his expectant crowd waiting nearly half an hour after the start-time, it would be easy for the cynic to dismiss Bo Burnham. Maybe after all he’s just an over-hyped teen simply fortunate enough to have been born in an era when a guy can sit in his bedroom and knock out comedy tunes which can be accessed by millions. Could the guy in the front row with whom Burnham indulges in a bit of bird-flipping be part of the backlash, a subtle plant or an enthusiastic fan who went too far? Maybe only a quick trip back to see this show would answer that one; and, frankly, that would be a complete pleasure.
Walking on to ecstatic acclaim from his mainly young audience, Burnham commences by ripping up a bunch of newspapers (perhaps even containing the rave notices that could weigh him down with their great expectations?) before hitting us with the first of many excellent jokes, top-notch one-liners and hilarious haikus. Tune after tune of deft comedic wordplays are hammered out on his keyboard about being an artist in a cruel world, the slings and arrows of religion and the sweet taste of delicious irony, all of which expertly massage the funnybone and irresistibly exercise the toes.
Not sure if anyone is calling him the Orson Welles of stand-up comedy, but why not start here? A note to the Foster’s comedy judges: cancel your meetings, parcel up the Best Newcomer gong, attach it to the main prize, post it to Bo and let’s all just go home, OK?
Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 29 Aug, 9.35pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8–£9).