Palle and I did the Komikaze run to Stockholm on Tuesday night. Paradoxically, unlike the last time I took to the road with Palle and his son, the journey itself had less of a Kamikaze feel to it. In other words, I drove, and I drove sedately.
It was a pleasant journey in the the golden light of a Swedish autumn afternoon/evening beautifully lit by the oranges, browns and reds of the trees. It was an uplifting vista and a reminder that when the grey skies clear, Sweden’s autumnal Golden Hours are the best in the world. Even when darkness fell and we got stuck in a traffic jam outside Södertälje, the journey didn’t seem to drag. We were in good time and chewing the fat with Palle about music, comedy and life in general is not only fun but as good for my Swedish as it is detrimental to his as he tends to leave my company speaking a bastardised version of his mother tongue.
Once in Stockholm, it was good to get a sense of the big city again – cars, noise, people, chaos. I love it.
Komikaze is a weekly club in Vasastan at a bar called EGO. The club is run by a refreshingly egoless guy called Mike Räsänen who also runs the website Komikaze, the hub of all things comedy in Sweden.
Doing Komikaze is a bit like a rite of passage, everyone plays there, from complete beginners to the biggest names on the scene. I’ve worked my way slowly up the bill over the last couple of years and on Tuesday I was the second act’s headliner (there were three acts). The compere for the night was Ahmed Berhan who I think is one of the hottest names on the circuit, partly because he is very funny, but also because watching him, he has a sense of truth and danger that other Swedish comedians don’t seem to have.
The night kicked off slowly and, to be honest, the first act was a flop. Palle was starting the second act and I could see that he was nervous…. but he’s an old punk (very old, he’s 48) and thankfully, he flicked on the aged rockstar switch. He started with his catchphrase of ‘Hello, Motherfuckers!’, which is all the funnier when you picture a tall, skinny, grey haired teacher talking to Stockholm’s young fashionistas. Palle had got the evening going. Oh yes!
There were a couple of other comics on before me, including a guy called Fredrik Lord, who wasn’t half bad and also knew alot about obscure music. I came on and, without getting all egotistical (well, we were in EGO), I stormed it. I tried out a few new jokes that went down really well and improvised a little bit too. Well done me: Big ego in EGO.
Palle and I celebrated with a late night cappuccino and cheesecake in a trendy Stockholm cafe and then headed back to Linköping, both of us feeling good, knowing that we have both gone up a couple of notches in Stockholm recognition.
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