5 up-and-coming L.A. comedians to watch right now

Photograph: Brandon Moningka for Time Out

Even if you haven’t heard Skyler Higley’s name before, you’ve definitely heard at least one of his jokes. The former Conan scribe was in the writers’ room for the Oscars this year and penned host Conan O’Brien’s mid-ceremony joke—“We’re halfway through the show, which means it’s time for Kendrick Lamar to come out and call Drake a pedophile”—winning him $50 after he bet the show’s executive producer that the joke would kill.

But while his work has been in headlines just recently, he’s already well established in the comedy world. Higley grew up in Salt Lake City—he was adopted and raised by white parents, which is a frequent source of material in his sets—later becoming a fixture in the Chicago comedy scene and writing full time for The Onion. He’s now in L.A., where after Conan ended, the in-demand writer and WGA Award winner joined late-night panel show After Midnight. In his stand-up, Higley pushes boundaries while retaining his warmth, sharing a skillful mix of biting satire, cutting observations and personal anecdotes. In his former boss O’Brien’s own words, he’s “delightfully bizarre and undeniably hilarious.”

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
[On tweeting about the Kendrick vs. Drake joke] I guess the funny part is now like all of these really angry Drake stans are in my mentions being like, “You sold out your community. You let a white man call Drake a pedophile—which he didn’t! It was a reference to Kendrick at the Super Bowl, it wasn’t like calling out Drake. So, yeah I guess it’s funny that I’m kind of in a weird media thing right now, and that people are mad for reasons that I did not anticipate. But it was really cool to do that.

The one joke that always lands:
I don’t think there’s any such thing as a joke that always lands if you do comedy in enough places. But I guess I have two that are closest to that. One’s old and one’s new. The old one is about doing acid on the train in Chicago, and I sort of overcomplicate seeing someone’s naked ass on the train and say, “That ass is amazing.” It’s one of these long-setup, complicated-setup analytical things that has a punchline—and that works I would say most all of the time.… And then a new one is something where I say, “You know, people accuse me of hating white people—I don’t, I don’t hate white people. Why would I waste my energy hating a group of people who are already going to hell?” That kills pretty hard.

Photograph: Brandon Moningka for Time Out

“Are you Michelle Kwan?” Tien Tran recalls being asked once while shopping for tankinis as a teen at a T.J. Maxx. Onstage, she defuses what she describes as an entertainingly racist encounter with a fully-committed figure skating twirl. One of the friendliest voices in L.A.’s stand-up scene and a natural comedic actor (you may have spotted her in How I Met Your Father), Tran digs deep into her life and upbringing with Vietnamese refugee parents to stuff her stand-up with absurd anecdotes about family, friends and work. In fact, even her Instagram handle—@hanktina—can be traced back to a high school story where a teacher made seemingly no effort to pronounce her full name, Hanh Tien.

She has an effortless knack for timely observations about identity and outlandish, exaggerated silliness—like her reenactment of being a closeted gay teen giving her first pretending-to-be-straight handjob, soundtracked by a mix of scatting, Rhapsody in Blue and the music from Harry Potter. Catch her cohosting the Jockular podcast each week.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
There’s nothing funny about living in the greatest country in the whole entire world! U-S-A! U-S-A! L-F-G!

The one joke that always lands:
Growing up as a first-gen Vietnamese-American kid, white people would often ask, “Where are you from?” I have a joke where I respond to that question by singing about my home in a faraway land—think Mulan soundtrack vibes. The faraway land is Erie, Pennsylvania. I’m from Erie, and thank God—Pittsburgh just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Photograph: Brandon Moningka for Time Out

A crowd-favorite in any local show, Ever Mainard’s cordial delirium brings a much-welcome burst of energy to any lineup they’re featured in. The Los Angeles actor, writer and stand-up (and cohost of the Y’all Gay Podcast) deftly delivers self-deprecating stories about being medically labeled as big-boned as a preteen and getting a Starry Night tramp stamp—but just the sky half of the painting, based on a blurry, low-res printout, no less.

Mainard talks about a second coming out as nonbinary to their parents over a literal backyard trash fire in rural Texas, and both their identity and family often factor into their routine, whether recalling being fed hot dogs like a dolphin or pantomiming the fine techniques of shot put. In between bemused riffs on pop culture and the indignities of daily life, Mainard’s amiable presence makes even the bawdiest bits—like the momentum-breaking indecencies of suiting up with a strap-on—seem altogether wholesome.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
I’m a nonbinary, trans-masc person… but I’m Federally Female!™ (JKJK! The government trying to erase trans identity is the most terrifying thing in my life right now.) 

The one joke that always lands:
I have a cornucopia of really bad back tattoos: The Wizard of Oz Tin Man, four types of stars, a miniature cowboy riding a massive jackalope and many other images one might purchase from a 50-cent sticker machine. Placement was not taken into consideration: I have two tattoos on my ribs right where the folds hit, and depending on my weight, sometimes I don’t! Other times—a pleasant surprise!

Photograph: Brandon Moningka for Time Out

Stand-up comic, TV writer, Android user and avid anime fan Opey has become a favorite at comedy festivals across North America, from Austin, where he performed a string of four shows at SXSW just this week—including a 50th-anniversary celebration of the Hollywood Improv—to Los Angeles’ Netflix is a Joke to Montreal’s Just for Laughs. Born in Nigeria, Opey moved to the U.S. with his family when he was 6. He’s “super proud to be an immigrant” and talks openly about that experience in his material.

Opey’s live performances are full of both personal stories and timely commentary that he shares with easygoing charm, whether he’s discussing relatable dating troubles (“Dating in L.A. is so trash now”), his sex life, the color of his texts (“I get discriminated more for having an Android than for being Black”) or pointing out the racial undertones of Willy Wonka. You’ll often find him popping up on local comedy lineups or at secret stand-up showcase Don’t Tell Comedy when he’s not busy writing for TV, where his credits include CBS’s Bob Hearts Abishola, animated HBO series Close Enough and Sarah Silverman’s I Love You, America.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
My family’s group chat. I have three sisters and my mom, and they’re always sending like the craziest YouTube videos.… I’m the quiet one in the group—I’m just like watching it all go down and seeping it all in. But there’s always funny family dynamic stuff. Did you ever see an impending argument through text? There’s a lot of that…. I have a bird’s-eye view of what’s about to go down. But they’re all very funny too—it gets super hilarious.

The one joke that always lands:
I have this joke about mushrooms now that I feel like is in a pretty good spot. It’s not done yet, but it always works for the most part.… The gist is how the only thing I don’t like about doing mushrooms is that when the wind hits the leaves, I feel like I can understand what the trees are saying, and since trees are old, they’re just spouting conservative talking points.… And then I just do the whole tree thing, and then I go into like different types of trees and their problematic views. It’s fun to do, but it’s not done yet.

Photograph: Brandon Moningka for Time Out

Wolves of Glendale is the uniquely L.A. musical moniker of guitarist Ethan Edenburg, drummer Eric Jackowitz and keyboardist Tom McGovern. Even though they’ve only been performing together for a few years, the trio has been on a steady rise, earning devoted fans and praise from the likes of Jack Black. The band opened for Tenacious D in Vegas, and in Black’s words, “the thing about Wolves of Glendale is…they sound fucking fantastic.” The Wolves also played the past two editions of Netflix is a Joke Fest, and this past summer they entered the music festival circuit, bringing laughs to Lollapalooza and Bonnaroo.

Calling to mind Flight of the Conchords and “Weird Al” originals, their songs are insanely catchy and expertly produced, and they’re even more fun live, with the jokes in their lyrics unfolding like any great comedy set. The band rocks out and effortlessly jumps between musical genres—“Olivia,” the band’s first single about dating a ghost, and “Loud Ass Car,” about an insecure guy with a souped-up set of wheels (“Your conversation is over. Now you must talk about me and my car”), are standouts. The Wolves of Glendale released their eponymous debut album last year before setting off on a national tour, and they’re currently working on new music.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
The funniest thing about life right now is that we are trying to decorate our new rehearsal space. We keep getting excited about stuff and then realize we don’t have room—like an arcade-grade basketball hoop game.

The one joke that always lands:
A lyric that always lands is from our song “The Gym” where we describe the first gym experience of a guy who barely works out at all: “It’s pretty crowded in here, so I do seven pushups / and then I go to McDonald’s,” and then we list everything he orders at McDonald’s and everything he orders at Wendy’s immediately after going to McDonald’s.

From a former comedy barker and stand-up favorites to people you might’ve briefly seen on TV, get to know the comics across the country that should be on your watch list.