This just isn’t how it’s done.

Encouraged to remove himself from a highly successful career in radio and the music business, Byron Kennedy’s comedy trajectory took him from open mic nights to featuring, Las Vegas and beyond. And the explanation for his fast start is exceedingly simple: “I fucking hate meetings.”

Born in Arizona, Kennedy was a parlor act from the beginning. “My dad gave my brother and I a Smothers Brothers record because he wanted us to memorize the ‘Mom Always Liked You Best’ routine, which we performed during a party at the Elks Lodge. I don’t even know what the hell the occasion was, but I do remember getting laughs.”

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The Byron Kennedy Story

 

This just isn’t how it’s done. Encouraged to remove himself from a highly successful career in radio and the music business, Byron Kennedy’s comedy trajectory took him from open mic nights to featuring, Las Vegas and beyond. And the explanation for his fast start is exceedingly simple: “I fucking hate meetings.”

Born in Arizona, Kennedy was a parlor act from the beginning. “My dad gave my brother and I a Smothers Brothers record because he wanted us to memorize the ‘Mom Always Liked You Best’ routine, which we performed during a party at the Elks Lodge. I don’t even know what the hell the occasion was, but I do remember getting laughs.”

Following that affinity as an adult, he quickly built a successful radio career – even drawing praise from Howard Stern who dubbed Kennedy “The Leonardo DaVinci Of Radio”. While helping launch a new Alternative station, Kennedy was the funny man in the room. “Everybody was trying to figure out how we could brand the station so people would know what music it played and that we had the Stern in mornings,” he says. “We must have been in this meeting for an hour when I finally said, ‘How about we just name it ‘Howard 93-7?’ When Howard heard about it, he loved it and talked about him on the air for 10 minutes.

Despite the VP title he earned at CBS Radio and his conference room successes, Kennedy didn’t enjoy the work. “I felt like an impostor,” he says. “I never felt like I belonged in any of those meetings.” Instead, he jumped into a new job with a Nashville-based record label – a logical decision considering that gig also involved lots of meetings. I kept getting promoted into executive roles that, frankly, “I hated,” he says. When I was on the air in radio, I would host club gigs – setting up the musical acts, doing giveaways – all that crap. I enjoyed that a lot more and being on a mic wasn’t totally foreign to me. Radio also helped with writing and timing. Then, towards the end of my career in the record business, I was in front of large groups introducing artists, and I realized everyone was more comfortable if I could get them laughing.”

The epiphany came in 2019. “I was at a birthday dinner with one of my friends who was always in my ear about doing comedy,” he says. “I was railing about sea turtles and plastic straws in California and had the whole table laughing. My buddy’s girlfriend says, ‘Have you ever thought about doing comedy?’”

That’s when a guest at the table named Roger chimed in. As in Roger LeBlanc, then the talent buyer for music, art and comedy festival KAABOO, which was 30 days away. “Your friends are right,” he said. “Next month is too soon for you, but if you’ll start doing open mics and learning how to do stand-up, I’ll put you on my festival next year.”

While still working as a record label executive, Kennedy dove into his comedy side hustle. Taking any slot, he could at clubs in Nashville and Los Angeles, he honed his craft. “Shit, I would fly all the way to California just to get five minutes onstage in Long Beach,” he says, noting it wasn’t all roses. “Fucking midnight on a Monday with seven people in the crowd who are all waiting for their turn to get onstage. If you ever want to feel all alone and not very good, do that.”

Nevertheless, his irreverent, observational style and natural storytelling flair gelled quickly. All this leading to a four-night opening stint in Las Vegas. “I didn’t know until I got there that it wasn’t guaranteed,” Kennedy says. “If I sucked the first night, they weren’t going to invite me back. Well, I did get invited back and made it through all four nights without sucking. They also asked me to do the late show on Saturday, which was an amazing compliment.”

Fueled by his success in Vegas – arguably the toughest city in the world for comedy Kennedy was to take a featured slot at a gig in Washington State.” I didn’t have 30 minutes of material at that point.” Similar gigs followed and, eventually, he signed a comedy album deal with BMG/Broken Bow – the record label he previously hated being in meetings for as an executive.

I spent years trying to work up the courage to go after this. You’re in the lion’s mouth up there but, when you land that first laugh, there’s no turning back. You’re bringing people joy. It’s powerful, and now it’s all I want to do.

“Hope The Stupid Goes Away”

“Gummy Bear”