Success doesn't always look like you think it will, says Joe Sib

Let me start with this: I’ve performed in front of 20,000 people opening for Metallica, and I’ve performed in front of six people at a wine bar next to a Cheesecake Factory. Only one of those shows made me question my entire existence  and weirdly, it wasn’t the one you’d expect.

In a world where we’re taught to chase numbers  ticket sales, likes, followers, views  I’ve learned that some of the most meaningful moments onstage have come when the crowd was small enough to see every eyebrow raise. And with the Edinburgh Fringe looming, that truth is more valuable to me than ever.

The gig that changed everything

A few years ago, I did a pop-up storytelling night at a bookstore in a quiet beach town. No stage, no lights, no drink minimum. Just mismatched chairs and a tiny amp that buzzed when I got too close. I thought I was performing for a packed local scene… but 15 minutes before showtime, it was clear we weren’t going to pack anything except up.

Nine people showed up. Two of them were just there to charge their phones.

I nearly pulled the plug.

But then something happened. I stopped trying to ‘perform,’ and I started talking. Not in a polished, punchline-chasing way  but like I was sitting across from old friends. I told a story about my daughter, another about growing up in California, and one about my mom that caught me off guard mid-sentence and had me choking up. The silence wasn’t empty  it was electric.

And when it ended, we didn’t rush out. We stayed. Talked. Connected. The room didn’t feel small anymore  it felt honest.

Why I’m taking that energy to Fringe

This August, I’ll be bringing my one-man show California Calling to the Fringe. It’s a mix of storytelling, stand-up, and family memories. It’s loud in places, but underneath, it’s about how one day can change everything in your life  and if it hasn’t happened yet, it still can.

It’s a deeply personal show. I’m not trying to go viral. I’m not chasing a Netflix taping. I’m chasing connection the kind that hits someone in the chest and makes them say, "Yeah… I’ve been there too."

At Fringe, you can end up doing a show for a packed house one night and seven hungover tourists the next. And I’m okay with that because I know those seven people might remember that show for the rest of their lives. Hell, I might.

The myth of ‘making  it’

In comedy, you’re always aware of the metrics. How many tickets? How many streams? How many followers?

But what if the best work isn’t always the most visible?

Some of my most meaningful growth has come after the shows that felt like failures on paper. The bar gig where I had to follow a karaoke contest. The community hall where someone fell asleep in the front row. The small town show where it felt like nobody wanted to laugh  until they did.

But in each of those places, someone came up to me after and said something like:

‘I needed that.’

‘I haven’t laughed in weeks.’

Or my favourite  ‘You said exactly what I’ve been trying to say to myself.’

That’s not a viral clip. That’s not a standing ovation. That’s real. And it keeps me going.

Why smaller can mean deeper

Here’s the thing about a small room: there’s no hiding. Not for you  and not for them. Every pause matters. Every glance. You can feel when the crowd is with you, when they’re drifting, when you’ve got them right in the palm of your hand. It’s a tightrope walk without a net.

And when you land it? It’s magic.

There’s also a weird kind of freedom in it. When the stakes are lower, the truth can be higher. You take risks. You try a new story you’re not sure about. You let a moment breathe. You listen to the crowd, instead of bulldozing over them with material.

That space  that intimacy  is where the good stuff lives.

Final thought before the mic goes hot

I’m not going to Edinburgh to prove something. I’m going to share something. A lifetime of stories shaped by love, mistakes, and second chances.

If I walk into a room and there are 60 people, amazing. If there are six? I’ll still give everything I’ve got  because I know the smallest rooms often leave the biggest mark.

And honestly? That’s the kind of connection I’m in this for.

• Joe Sib: California Calling will be at the Gilded Balloon  Appleton Tour at 9pm during the Fringe.

Published: 29 Jul 2025