'There’s not a gram of fat on the show'

Maxx Eddy on his love of Bo Burnham, James Acaster and more

Edinburgh Fringe comedian Maxx Eddy picks his Perfect Playlist of comedy favourites

Bo Burnham: Make Happy

This show was the first live comedy event I ever attended, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it changed my life. It’s like if your first concert was The Beatles in ‘66 - how lucky was I to catch the show before the band stopped touring.

As a reformed musical theatre kid, Bo was a Rosetta Stone between theatre and stand-up comedy. He careens seamlessly between hilarious songs (including one poking fun at Kanye’s megalomania way before the world soured on him) and rapid-fire one-liners, and there’s not a gram of fat on the show. He’s a genius, and if he ever tours again, I’ll be there.

James Acaster: Recognise

This is a dangerous act for me to mention, because I bear at least a passing resemblance to the man (TikTok comments have more than once dubbed me ‘James Gaycaster’). But I must honour Repertoire, especially the first hour Recognise, as the work that brought the British school of comedy to my dumb American brain.

James’s ability to take perfect, disparate bits and weave them into a whole greater than the sum of its parts changed the way I viewed my comedy - I began asking myself, ‘Okay, my jokes are alright, but are they an act?’ If he had spent the hour just yelling ‘Pret A Manger’ over and over, I’d probably be laughing. But by the end of the show, where he’s calling back to his bit about unbreaking the ice, I’m feeling. Who else has the skill and gumption to end a comedy special with the words, ‘Death comes to us all’?

Emily Wilson: FIXED: How I Got REJECTED by Reality TV

My buddy Vittorio recommended this special when I was first considering an Edinburgh run, and it is an absolute masterclass in long-form storytelling.

The tale itself is absolutely bananas (for the uninitiated, it’s about Emily auditioning for X-Factor US as a teen and how she braved a less-than-flattering national spotlight), and Emily has me hooked throughout.

One moment I’m fuming, thinking, ‘How the hell could a reality show treat children like this?’ and the next I’m guffawing at a Broadway-worthy song about YouTube comments.

It’s the only YouTube special in the last 10 years that I’ve watched in one sitting - Emily’s a star, and I was mesmerised.

Norm Macdonald: The News

Norm is one of my favourite comedians, and I listen to this bit of his about once a month. He tells a hypothetical tale of a local news outlet covering the disappearance of a woman named Janice, and he nails the absurdity of sensationalist news and the parasocial relationships it foments.

Even though he’s making a wise, poignant point about how we fixate on tragedy, he never presents himself as a preacher or philosopher. His plain delivery lulls you, and the punchlines hit so much harder.

In a world of entertainers trying to sound smart, Norm was smart enough to know that it’s funnier to play dumb.

Doug Stanhope: Beer and Putsch

Doug is a master. He exemplifies the idea that you can make anything funny, no matter how dark or gross, so long as the idea underlying the vulgarity is thoughtful and novel.

In a landscape where inferior comedians play with dark topics like children running with steak knives, Doug is a Michelin-star hibachi chef. In this special, he tells a story about helping to euthanise his mother, and it’s tragic, it’s funny, it’s comedy that serves its most noble purpose: to look death in the face and laugh.