Lewis Black may be the only comedian working as an anger cyclotron to study the science of satire. Just look at him -- if you think he won't one day implode and become a super-dense annihilating black hole whose singularity began with a heart attack, you're kidding yourself. Signing his memoir Me of Little Faithat Largo on behalf of the good folks at Book Soup, Black brings a slightly more searching, agnostic quality to his barbs and japes on religion than the antitheism of Bill Maher or the magical misery of Richard Lewis. The resulting balance, chronicled on his current "Let Them Eat Cake" stand-up tour (and at Largo tonight), is less glass-half-empty or half-full than it is "Who drank my water?" And yet his crying out in the wilderness implies two aspects of awareness: that no one might hear, and that he has a voice that must be used.
Mon., June 29, 2009