Pitchfork

It's funny to think that Michael Showalter is roughly the same age as the thirty-somethings just recently garnering significant exposure on the stand-up circuit. In many ways, Showalter seems like he's from an entirely different generation of alternative comedy compared to current staples like Patton Oswalt or Demetri Martin. Rather than cutting his teeth opening for indie bands, Showalter is one of the last bastions of that glorious pre-YouTube age where TV networks actually produced tons of hilarious comedy shows with talented writers and performers. So, with a hefty résumé that includes beloved 1990s sketch show The State, cult classic Wet Hot American Summer, and the viral "Stella" short videos, Showalter doesn't have much to prove on the relaxed, almost effortless Sandwiches & Cats, his first comedy album.

While Sandwiches doesn't strive to be a full-fledged magnum opus like Oswalt's Werewolves and Lollipops or Martin's These Are Jokes, Showalter's goofy sensibility, which come totally free of the explicit and/or implicit Bush-era angst so prevalent in today's comedy, feels like a breath of fresh air. The album's stand-up bits, recorded at Brooklyn's Union Hall, are not only a-topical, but a-political as well. Even Zach Galifianakis, an equally absurdist stand-up performer, occasionally throws in jabs at Middle America or the Iraq War alongside his oddball non-sequiturs. Showalter, on the other hand, feels completely isolated from current events or politics, instead blowing his lid over situations like the Starbucks customer who continually jiggles the bathroom door handle when he's trying to pee, or when, in an impromptu rant that's almost too cruel to be funny, Showalter humiliates and then kicks out an audience member for bringing two meowing cats to his show.

Unlike most comedy albums, Showalter's stand-up tracks aren't cut and pasted from a huge selection of performances to create one immaculate string of jokes, each punchline followed by thunderous laughter and applause. As a result, energy is lacking at some points, though Showalter's too talented a performer to let the gig turn into amateur hour. Also injecting some spunk into the disc, Showalter throws in some short skits-- most notably an aggravating customer service call with Time Warner that any subscribing Brooklyn resident can relate to all too well-- as well as some musical humor with his band the Dollies.

These songs fall somewhere between Tenacious D and Flight of the Conchords as Showalter carries out a running gag about a past part-time job writing outdoors lifestyle pieces with erotic themes, usually with little accompaniment aside from a simple acoustic guitar riff. However, the real highlights occur when Showalter utilizes his sketch acting abilities, rapidly shifting characters ranging from a teenage version of himself to a stilted Dickensian doctor diagnosing restless leg syndrome. Sandwiches & Cats may not measure up to the most memorable works in Showalter's accomplished career, but the comedian's loose smugness on these recordings suggests he doesn't aspire for the album to be anything more than a run-through of his talents-- talents that, at the very least, are good for a quick comedy fix.