They’re not famed for their sense of humour, those hip hop stars. Just you try going up to P Diddy and telling him the one about the egotistical, over-hyped rap superstar with the ridiculous name. You won’t get so much as a titter. Thankfully, though, there are exceptions. Ben Smith (Doc Brown to his homies), for example, shocked many when he ditched the bling and dubious grammar of the rap world for the unpredictable lion’s mouth of the stand-up comedy circuit. Fresh from performing his critically acclaimed show ‘Unfamous’ at the Edinburgh Festival, he’s bringing the funny to Abu Dhabi this week.
You’ve just got back from the Edinburgh Festival. How was that?
It was incredible. It was a rubber-stamp sellout, so I’m told. So I’m very happy. I come from the music business where the term ‘sellout’ has a completely different meaning.
Are you planning on adjusting your material for Dhabi’s audiences?
Very much so. What I found early on with expat audiences is that if you explain things clearly about your life then that’s fine, but when it comes to little references, people who’ve been away from Britain for a while might not pick up on them. So it’s more about the nuances really; the subtleties that you have to remember, so you don’t lose people.
You used to be a rapper. What made you decide to go into comedy instead?
I sort of gradually fell out of love with the music industry, but there was no real concerted switch. It was more not knowing what to do with myself. I’d worked on some Radio 4 comedies, and it was the BBC that encouraged me to take what I’d learned and give it a bash on stage, since I was from a performance background. Even for the first months doing stand-up, I wasn’t sure if it was for me. It took a while for me to think of it as a serious thing.
How do your ambitions differ now that you’re working in comedy rather than music?
The biggest difference is I don’t take myself so seriously. The other thing is that I’m much more open-minded to what might come along. I don’t see myself as becoming the king of stand-up. I see it as a massive creative eye-opener. Nothing gets your brain working like stand-up; you have to think on your feet and bring energy into a room.
What’s been your lowest moment on stage? Have you ever absolutely died?
I once said to myself if I have three bad gigs in a row, then I’ll quit. And in May 2008 I had, like, five. That was the toughest time. I’d come out and know I was going to die. But it was mainly a belief thing. Like when you see a football team that’s low on confidence, and they start a game really well but go a goal down, then their heads drop and they think ‘well, we’re going to lose again because that’s what we do.’ I kind of went through a phase like that.
Are there many groupies in comedy? Are they better than the rap groupies?
You get similar levels of nerdiness; similar weird desires. But in music there’s more idolising, which you don’t get in comedy as much because it’s so self-deprecating.
Do you miss that at all?
No, not at all. It’s a very dangerous thing to get soaked up in. As soon as two or three people idolise you, you can turn into an idiot really quickly. I don’t miss that, I prefer building myself up and knocking myself down. It keeps your feet on the ground.
Your sister is renowned novelist Zadie Smith. Do you think having a famous sibling has been a help or a hindrance?
It wasn’t very good for street credibility as a rapper, but as a stand-up comedian it’s definitely been helpful. People always expect the sibling of a successful person to either have a chip on their shoulder or to not really have any talent. So people see me and they think ‘oh, he is actually talented in his own way.’ So it’s a help, really, because I know people’s expectations. And I get to destroy them in my own way.
See Doc Brown perform as part of The Laughter Factory, 9pm, September 21. Crowne Plaza, Yas Island (02 656 3000). Tickets, Dhs115, www.timeouttickets.com
