Time Out's Comics To Watch 2025: Our 12 favorite on-the-rise comedians

Photograph: Noah Fecks for Time Out

Alex Kumin started out in the comedy world learning improv at The Second City in Chicago before moving on to stand up. By the time she got to New York City, she had already managed to hone and develop her comedic voice, which manages to bring hilarious lightness to the extremes she’s faced in her life. She has the unique ability of being able to tell jokes that present nuanced (and, frankly, hilarious) takes on the American healthcare system and even cancer treatments—jokes that could only come from someone who’s survived the illness three times. The perspective she’s gleaned from her experiences is evident, but no more so than that fact that she’s undeniably hilarious. With nearly 40,000 Instagram followers, a hysterical podcast and a national tour underway, it’s clear that everyone else agrees, too.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
I think it's just that the world is burning around us, and every day I'm waking up just like, ‘What’s funny about the coffee shop?’

The one joke that always lands: HPV is so common, it's like the first day of law school. It's like, look to your left, look to your right. You have HPV.

Photograph: Gracie Hammond for Time Out

Dan Docimo has been obsessed with stand-up comedy since they were six, when their dad would put on family-friendly sets from Jim Gaffigan and Brian Regan on long car rides. They wrote their first joke at age 10 and after their brother started doing stand-up in college, they decided they had to follow suit to prove they were funnier. Their brother’s now a professor, but 10 years later Docimo is still at it, performing regularly at Zanies, the Lincoln Lodge and Laugh Factory as well as touring around the Midwest. They describe their style as “low energy,” discussing the absurdity of the world as if they're giving a presentation with an invisible easel. Their sets have recently involved more commentary on the news, but religion is another favorite topic, drawing on their experience growing up Catholic and queer and attending a Catholic college.

“I have no problem with religion or religious people so I try to keep my religion stuff respectful,” Docimo said. “My very Catholic parents think it’s funny.”

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
I don’t find my life to be particularly funny, which I guess is a weird response to hear from a comedian. I don’t talk very much about myself.

The one joke that always lands: I like to think most of them, but my favorite is about how in some religions if you’re cremated you can’t go to heaven. I hope that’s not true because you’re dead for a bit before you get cremated, so you’d be in heaven and then somebody would come up to you and say, ‘Hey, your family just burned you. You’ve got to go.’

Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out

Deanna Ortiz has been doing stand-up comedy in Chicago for 12 years and has a residency at The Lincoln Lodge where she teaches a Fem Com class to give women and nonbinary performers the skills they need to develop material and get on stage. Those lessons also inspire her to work on her own sets every week. Ortiz has a narrative style, talking about her life in a way meant to feel like having a conversation with a friend. She’s currently working on a solo show incorporating multimedia that will launch this spring, which covers her experience watching adult entertainment every day during the COVID-19 pandemic and how it improved her life. Ortiz is also developing a podcast with some fellow Chicago comedians, including Gena Gephart and Maggie Winters, called “Sex and the City Sucks,” dissecting how the series has aged poorly and comparing her experience as a new viewer with her friends who grew up with the show. Ortiz previously had a podcast focused on whether celebrity actors were actually hot or just tall.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
I did social media for the adult entertainment industry for five years. I think people know that it’s not really the models they’re talking to, but me in my garden apartment with seven blankets on.

The one joke that always lands: I have a joke about being a twin and how fraternal twins are kind of boring. I say the top three twins are identical, conjoined and then Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Some people get the Twins reference and some people don’t, but when it hits, it’s great.

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: Gracie Hammond for Time Out

Gwen Rose started doing stand-up comedy three and a half years ago in hopes of attracting the attention of Conan O'Brien so she could write for his TBS show. That didn’t happen, but she fell in love with performing. Her work is often very dark and political, sharing her experiences as a trans woman and her struggles with mental health.

“This joke I’m working on goes, ‘In the trans community, there’s a lot of talk about the possibility of internment camps and at some point I’m rooting for that because the person being dragged to an internment camp seems a lot more sane and rational,’” Rose said. “No matter how dark things get, there’s always punch lines.”

Rose has an adversarial relationship with her own audience, seeking to hold their attention for the entire set and consistently surprise them. Her monthly show at the Lincoln Lodge, “Gwen Rose and Allies: A Charity (Show) Case,” is framed as a way for her to pay for her medicine.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
As a trans comedian, doing stand-up during this administration with all the executive orders has in a way become performance art. It’s kind of absurd that I’m getting in front of 100 people at a time and talking about how much I want to kill myself and all these cis people are laughing.

The one joke that always lands: I start off every set by saying, “My name is Gwen. I’m a trans woman, which means the only difference between me and any other woman you might know is that no one’s surprised when they find out I’m a squirter.”

Photograph: Noah Fecks for Time Out

At 28, Jamie Wolf has been doing comedy for a decade. He’s from Philadelphia and initially attended college at U.C. Santa Barbara before transferring to NYU when he realized stand up was the dream. While NYU wasn’t ideal for Wolf at the time, he's since worked to ingratiate himself in the comedy community—and it's safe to say that it has been working out. From starting out as a comedy barker on street corners in exchange for stage time, to getting passed at the city's most prestigious clubs, he's experienced the breadth of the city's comedy scene. These days, he's easy to find at the Comedy Cellar most nights of the week, and performing at this establishment is a milestone on its own. Wolf says he was passed [accepted after an audition] at the club one year ago, and while he frequents other spots in the city as well, the Comedy Cellar shows are some of his most steady bookings throughout the week. He's also seen his Instagram following surge to 122,000 as he's posted clips of his stand up and crowd work from his sets from clubs in the city and tour stops around the country.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
I can’t even understand what that means.

The one joke that always lands: That doesn’t exist. If someone told you it does exist, they’re lying. Or they’re delusional.”

Photograph: Noah Fecks for Time Out

JC Mendoza’s comedy journey started on Snapchat, where he used to make funny videos for kicks. Then, he got noticed by comedian and DJ Chipha Sounds, who brought Mendoza on to write with him. Since then, the New York born-and-raised comedian has kept himself busy, most notably with his hilarious podcast Soft Launch, which he does with his girlfriend and fellow comic Samantha Santos. For IRL performances, Mendoza loves Barbershop, a LES venue that’s a functional barbershop and an event space. He’s also a fan of Greenwich Village Comedy Club, which he says “is a dark dusty basement where it feels like nasty jokes are supposed to happen.”

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
We just moved into my grandma’s apartment, she passed away at 94 years old in August. The funny thing to me is that we sleep in the same bed that she passed away on because it’s so comfortable.

The one joke that always lands: My girlfriend and I use Task Rabbit a lot for work that needs to be done for our apartment. It’s a very expensive service, and my girlfriend gets upset and says, 'JC, you understand if you were more handy, we could save a lot of money on Task Rabbits.' But I just tell her I can’t because I am a sassy Puerto Rican.

Photograph: Noah Fecks for Time Out

Kenice Mobley once dated a self-proclaimed comedian and went to one of his shows only to find out he wasn’t funny. That’s when she realized people could be bad at comedy, so she decided to give it a shot. Since then, she’s made a career out of being a funny person and recorded an acclaimed comedy album Follow Up Question in 2022. These days, you can find her at Union Hall, a spot near and dear to her heart for its ability to bring together seasoned comedians with up-and-coming ones.

What’s the funniest thing about your life right now?
I’m on this kick of self-improvement, I’m calling it the day of 100 percent. Every day, I try to do as much as possible but now I’m also sleepy all the time.

The one joke that always lands: I just got back from traveling, where I saw tons of dudes flying back from having hair transplant surgery. Women can go to the DR and we can get fake tits and butts and come back to find a husband. Men go to Turkey, get hair transplants and they come back just to find out that wasn’t the problem.

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

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’s 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

“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

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.