Dave Attell is like an all-star athlete who plays for a small-market sports team; think Michael Finley of the Dallas Mavericks or Jason Giambi of the Oakland A's. Attell is that guy: a highlight reel not seen by nearly enough people. That's where the comparisons to multimillion-dollar athletes end, though. Attell is a self-described short, fat, bald New York Jew. In typical Attell fashion, he doesn't give himself enough credit. He is average height, not fat—although he is bald and Jewish.
The 35-year-old has been doing standup for 13 years. "I'm friendlier now," said the media-shy Attell in a rare interview. "I try to be nice and high-energy because I'm having a good time being up there."
"Up there," if Attell had his way, would include more small-screen roles, which have proved elusive. Comics had it somewhat easier during the 1980s, when most pundits agree standup achieved its peak of mainstream popularity. Audiences weren't so hard to cull. Now, said Attell, unless a comic is recognizable from TV or film appearances, it's difficult to get people into comedy clubs.
Manhattan-based Attell has performed on Letterman and Conan O'Brien numerous times, and he has a recurring role as "The Ugly American" commentator on Comedy Central's The Daily Show. Since he's on the road doing standup frequently, Attell teams with friend Jon Stewart on The Daily Show only about once a month.
Still, those television credits are not enough exposure, he said. And he does face challenges, such as cleaning up his language, and in some cases material, to be more TV friendly. Attell is working on developing a series for Comedy Central but not necessarily so he can work in TV full time: It's an attempt to create a regular enough presence on TV so more people will see his live standup. The cantankerous comic has even gone so far as to start a website, www.daveattell.com, showcasing his sets and writing projects (though the computer-illiterate Attell said he hasn't even visited the site).
And then there was a very un-Attell venture, also related to his small-screen aspiration: acting school. He's not exactly the type that screams, "Teach me!" The times that Attell tried attending acting classes, he found it very frustrating.
"Acting is about balance and Zen and Aikido and girls with big breasts—wait, that's HBO." But seriously, he found reacting on cue to scene partners' dialogue unnatural. It didn't help that several of Attell's acting coaches were working with soap opera actors. The typically underdramatic Attell would react to a line reading naturally but would often be directed to punch it up. "I didn't get what [acting coaches] were talking about. Acting is about being yourself, and they were telling me to not be myself. I wish I could act better, but I also wish I could fly a helicopter."
In between standup and acting, Attell held writing jobs for Saturday Night Live (you can spot him playing an extra in a few sketches) and The Jon Stewart Show—despite the fact that he said he can't write dialogue.
Attell is famously dark and twisted onstage. Virtually every name comic of the 1990s—Janeane Garofalo, Brain Regan, Denis Leary—has gone on record as an Attell fan. It seems everyone inside of the business gives the guy plenty of accolades for his odd take on things—now it's the rest of the world that needs a primer. Here's a start.
On family: "I used to think my dad was Superman. Then I realized he's just another guy who wears a cape."
On self-image: "I have kind of an André Aggasi-with-a-drinking-problem kind of look."
On sex: "Don't you wish you could go back and sleep with all the girls from your past? Just so you can show 'em how good you got? P.S., made it past your thigh."
On eggnog: "Have you ever? Someone was thinking, Hmm, I want to get a little drunk, but I also want—pancakes."
Can you hear America listening? Attell, true to form, would make an unlikely TV star: For one, he is severely shy. For another, he can't stand watching himself on TV. Once, while drunk and in the company of friends, he watched a Letterman appearance of his. "I said, 'Who's that weird-looking guy on TV? Oh, wait, it's me,'" he recalled. "I have trouble looking at myself."
Despite his 13 years at his craft and six years of heavy cross-country travel, he doesn't appear to adore the spotlight. During the standard opening applause of a set, Attell will usually brush it aside with a flippant, "Sure, why not?" and at set's end he'll typically race offstage at a lightning-quick pace.
And when it comes to his craft, he is disgustingly humble. He does not admit to being funny, citing other comics as the ones with talent—Colin Quinn, Doug Stanhope, Mitch Hedberg, Nick DiPalo, and Don Rickles. As for comics who return the compliments (and many do so unrequited), he said, "That's all great, but that's not going to help you pay the bills."
Indeed, paying rent in New York hadn't been easy. While trying to make a name for himself, Attell temped at the Discovery Channel, worked the door at the Improv, and held other non-ideal jobs. He's eventually progressed to making a living solely off of standup, "and it's been a dream ever since," he said. Sarcastically, of course.
That's Dave Attell in a nutshell: an extremely talented comedian who may never know it.