Conversations with Alan Bromwell

Today we’d like to introduce you to Alan Bromwell

Hi Alan, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
Some eleven years ago, I woke up in the Emergency Room in Boulder, Colorado. Half of the teeth I’d come to expect to be in my mouth on a daily basis were gone. I found this highly suspicious. As a rather autistic-seeming oral surgeon attempted (to little avail) to reconstruct something resembling a smile, I attempted to reconstruct the narrative of my life. I’d fallen off my bike after a long drug bender involving cocaine and Chinese Xanax, and the first thought that came to mind was: “I’m a comedian now.”

You’ll think I’m kidding, but that was really the high point. It’s only gotten worse from there. From those early days—performing with no teeth, a nasal splint, and an insane-looking unkempt beard, screaming about methamphetamines to a few startled drunks, to now—confusing comedy club patrons with a snide rap about how nobody believes in free will anymore and all the hot chicks think they’re Neil deGrasse Tyson…it’s all been downhill.

I can tell you that much of my time in comedy has been spent sitting angrily at a desk, attempting to make myself laugh it off. The other part is a bizarre social dance at dive bars, waiting to get onto a poorly lit pallet and deliver some new wisecrack about lesbians to an unamused smattering of unfulfilled cretins. This is what I love, and I have done it mostly without pay or recognition for over a decade now. I’m not bragging.

I’ve gotten better at the craft through consistent effort, but the truth is I miss the early days. Back when I looked like a homeless freak, and I could truly say anything. Not that I don’t push the envelope anymore, but my pride and self-image get in the way. Back then I had no idea how comedy was supposed to be done, and because of that I was better at it. I’m more skilled now, and I say much more, but I miss the freedom of doing comedy purely to see if I could.

How’s that for a sales pitch?

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The path has been inexorable. At least, that’s what I tell myself to deny the possibility that I made a wrong turn, much less seventeen of ’em. So in that way it’s been a very smooth road. Because it’s the only road. But the whole thing has been riddled with disasters, and it’s only because part of me finds them funny that I keep chugging along.

I’ve lost just about every friend I’ve made along the way, and most of that stems from a belief that what I say is funny and true, a belief shared by nobody listening to me. I tend to make friends easily, and lose them even easier. I’ve been told I like to “poke the bear”, but the way I see it is that anyone who can be offended is angry at himself and in denial about it. So if you get upset (and especially by words said in jest), it’s really an indication you’re out of alignment. I’m like a white-hat hacker who shows you where your weaknesses are. You should be thankful.

But anyhow, this way of thinking likely looks to the outsider like spraying a flamethrower at every wooden bridge known to man. The conventional wisdom in show business is that networking is everything and even more important than talent. “It’s all who you know,” once said a fool who didn’t know himself. I’ve taken the opposite approach, which is to value the exploration of my ideas and psyche above social approval and even friendship. This is how I’ve attained everything in comedy. Which is not much, so far.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m a comedian, a writer, and an actor. This is unknown to the IRS and to my neighbors, who think I listen to Funkadelic records for a living. I perform weekly at the Denver Comedy Works and I’ve headlined dives in every flyover county you’ve never heard of.

My comedy is a reaction to the identity I was assigned by society. They told me “you’re smart and you can do anything you want,” and then I decided to say what I really think and feel into a microphone, and then they said, “couldn’t you have just been a lawyer or something?”

My act is a mixture of anger and cynicism and irreverence and hope. I tend to be the voice of reason and relief when everyone’s tripping on drugs, and hey, look around. Y’all may as well be.

How do you think about luck?
I think it’s all been luck, but I don’t think luck is random. I think we create it with thought and intention. Why would I have dreamt up so much bad luck? Cause it’s pretty damn funny.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://alanbromwell.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alan.bromwell/
• Twitter: https://x.com/alanbromwell
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2Y15W_DnzkDFsi39yvwnDg

Image Credits
Carlos Morales
Jeff Stonic