Chip Chantry
written by Tabitha Vidaurri
Chip Chantry is enjoying his salad years. Working as an elementary school teacher by day, and Philadelphia stand-up comic by night, he’s got a double-life that suits him, and he’s thankful for any opportunity to perform in front of an audience. He’s also obsessed with death.
“I don’t want to be pigeon-holed,” says Chantry. “I kind of like how I’m straight-laced looking and then I come out and say something out of left field. I take a lot of shit from other comedians for the way I look though. Everyone always makes fun of my shirts.”
I’ve known Chip for a while. He is one of the most prolific members of the Philadelphia comedy scene. Last summer he hosted the first annual Philly SketchFest at the Painted Bride Arts Center, which allowed him to hang out backstage with all of the sketch comedians drinking warm beer. I met up with Chip recently at the Remedy Tea Bar, because we figured it would be a quiet place to meet before the open mic at Helium Comedy Club, but the placed closed before we could finish our lattes. We ended up just going to the green room at Helium, a place where Chantry has spent a good chunk of time.
As we walked in to the club, several young comics were waiting in the lobby for the open mic to start. They were all happy to see Chip, and even happier to point out that his real name is actually Paul.
Chantry grew up in the Philly suburbs of Montgomery County. “I was a real nervous kid,” he recalls. “I thought I had a funny side. Inside I was funny, but I was really shy too. I didn’t talk to girls because I was afraid. I could see the popular kids, and I was like, ‘These guys aren’t funny. Why do people like them?’”
Music was his original obsession. Aside from acting in musicals in high school, he served as a roadie for his brother’s band, which ended up being the impetus behind his stand-up career. “They booked me to open for them at Fergie’s Pub without telling me,” says Chantry. “I was the opening act. They said, ‘We’re forcing you to do this so write some material’. And I figured I’d just bomb and I could say, ‘Well I did comedy for once in my life. Check that off my list. Go skydiving next.’ But people laughed.”
The audience at Fergie’s that night may have been made up of friends and family, but the important thing was they enjoyed it. It inspired Chantry to get serious about comedy. “I bit the bullet and took a stand-up comedy class. It was scheduled right before an open mic, so it forced you to go on. We had this fraternity of guys all in the same class so there was a good support system,” he recalls. “That was the kick in the ass I needed. It was so much better to have the group of guys that had each other’s backs.” From there Chantry began getting stage time at the Comedy Cabaret in Northeast Philly.
One of the comics he met during the class was professional Quizzo host, Johnny Goodtimes. The duo began performing at open mics together, as well as at a variety of strange gigs; which included providing preshow entertainment to expressionless hipsters on movie night at the Trocadero music hall. “Johnny and I thrive on failure,” says Chantry, “which is good, because we do that a lot.”
I have some legal advice for you. I don’t think it’s a good deal to sell your soul to the devil. I don’t think that’s ever worked out for anyone. Do you think in hindsight anyone ever looks back and says “Yeah I really made out on that deal.” They’re writhing in hell, “Oh my god my fire’s burning for eternity, but, I did get into Rutgers.”
In January of 2009, Chantry inherited the monthly Monday night slot at the Khyber from Don Montrey, the former host of the comedic variety show Die Actor Die. The show became Chip Chantry’s One Man Show with Special Guest, which is co-hosted by Johnny Goodtimes. Chantry’s show has retained a similar format to Die Actor Die, and showcases stand-up, sketch and video, but has the added element of a staged train wreck. “Every show, there’s some disaster that’s going on between Johnny and me. I’ll keep trying to go into some big monologue, and the subject matter is bad, so then Johnny jumps in and says. ‘Well let’s put on another comedian’.” Their shows also include multimedia presentations; Chantry and Johnny enjoy messing around with filmstrips of old Philadelphia landmarks by changing around the audio. In Chantry’s first One Man Show back in January, and he attempted to give an artful presentation on childhood jaundice by doing an interpretive dance to Coldplay’s Yellow. Needless to say, Johnny introduced the next act promptly.
Chantry’s One Man Show is one of the many comedy variety shows that have successfully sprouted in the local scene in recent years. “Comedy was dead in Philadelphia, there were no A rooms. Helium gave us the chance to work along side national guys,” says Chantry. “I think there’s talent here, too. And then when Don stepped it up with Die Actor Die and brought sketch, improv and stand-up together, that really bridged the gap. I think there’s a creative energy in the city right now and I think people are starting to notice.”
This July, Chantry will be traveling to the Cap City Comedy Club for gig in Austin, TX. “My favorite place outside of Philly is Austin. It’s the coolest town in the world.” We both agreed with Patton Oswalt’s comment that Austin resides in magical bubble in the middle of Texas. Having been born in Dallas, I can confirm this.
Aside from traveling and playing guitar privately in his room, Chip’s other summer projects include working on his material. “I really try to sit down and write, especially when school’s out. But it’s hard for me to sit down in a room and write funny things. Some people can.”
Conversely, Chantry admits to feeling overly prepared. “I used to be very structured. I still am. I’m almost too scripted with my comedy.” At this point he shows me a small piece of paper marked with a grid. Each square contains a single word, like “wheelchair” and “Arby’s”.
“I’ve really been trying write on stage more, especially at open mics. Sometimes it goes horribly, but sometimes something’ll happen. The good thing about accumulating a lot of material is you feel more confident. I can always go out and do a half hour or forty-five and not even think about it,” says Chantry, “I love bringing old stuff back because you see something in a different light. Just about a month ago I brought one of my old bits back that I hadn’t used in a year. I saw it through new eyes, rephrased it, hit it in a different way. Little pauses and little punches – just the way you rephrase something really can be good.”
Comedians are inherently the same in that when they see something they think is funny, they come back to it later. For many, this physically involves writing, but other comics seem to have the ability to pull things out of the air. “It’s amazing to me,” says Chantry. “I have been trying it and some of those guys that have been doing it for twenty years, they can just get up there and they have an idea and they’ll write a five minute bit that sounds like it took months to do.”
“Chip is really quick witted.” Says John Kensil, friend and Philly-born comedian. “He also became a teacher, right out of college, and his material reflects that. It’s funny, and also has an intelligent twist. He knows how to deliver.”
“Your mind is going so fast,” says Chantry. “When you’re onstage you’re going a mile a minute, so the ideas are coming a mile a minute, too. I’ve been trying to be more liberal with that, but it’s scary too, because I don’t really like improv.”
As friendly and good-natured as Chantry may appear to be, he draws the line when it comes to hecklers. “I don’t want to be a dick, but I am very picky about audience participation skills. You give your respect to people on stage. I felt that way even before I went onstage and did stuff. When I’m in a crowd, when I’m in a movie theatre, I sit there silently. That’s what I teach my students. When we’re in an assembly, my kids know they have to be quiet and respectful.”
Elementary school children and hecklers may not be all that different, but drunk Philadelphia audience members are not going to respond to time-out. For the most part, however, Chantry exercises restraint. “Its coming right up onto the stage, and its right in my ear and I’m trying to think. But if I yell at them or say something to them, ninety-percent of the crowd can’t hear them, so then I just look like a prick. So I’ve learned to just focus.”
Chantry’s act is the blatant contrast between the way he looks and what he is saying. He was in a fraternity in college, and he looks like he was in a fraternity in college, and yet there is a distinct awareness apparent in his material. “I definitely use comedy as a defense mechanism, so I try to talk about things that scare me. You look at my set and a lot of it has to do with death. I talk about my grandmother dying. It’s a gut instinct, you’re afraid of it, so you make fun of it. A lot of times I’ll take a real insecurity of mine and try to expose it. When I’m honest and more autobiographical I think its more funny because it’s from the heart. You see recognition in people’s eyes in the crowd.”
While folks who are relentlessly negative aren’t much fun to be around, people who are falsely enthusiastic – either on or off of the stage –can be worse. The challenge, however, is to maintain a positive attitude when things aren’t going so great, and Chantry’s way of managing that is to stay angry. No all-consuming, deep and abiding hatred, but just angry enough,” he says. “I hate when people get so high on themselves. ‘We’re fat and we’re lazy and we don’t know what to do. We’re rich but we’re losing this money!’ People panic and think ‘What’s going to happen?’ We are so much better off than ninety-nine percent of the world. I get frustrated with that. ‘Do you see how easy we have it right now?’ Just to rattle the cage a little bit. ‘Look! Do you see how there’s death and shit everywhere else and we’re in this little bubble?’ I teach fourth grade in the suburbs. I’m in the bubble, too. I want people to be aware that we’re in this bubble, and it could pop at any time soon. But, hey, let’s be happy for what we have here. All the petty little things that people are worrying about just don’t fucking matter.”
While he may have reoccurring jokes about his Nana’s death, and has gone on scathing rants about insolent and entitled young people, one of his most popular bits is about the worst thing Willie Nelson can say while he’s giving you a hand job - that he’s not Wille Nelson. (Cause then it’s just a red headed stranger.)
I asked Chantry if he considered himself to be an optimistic person. “I just try to enjoy every moment that I have. The opportunity to come and perform, that’s it right there. “
Tabitha Vidaurri is a writer from Philadelphia.
For more information on Chip Chantry,
visit myspace.com/chipchantry.