Comic Daniel Sloss on fatherhood, ego death and lazy comedians

Sínann Fetherston speaks with comedian Daniel Sloss about fatherhood, ego death, and cancel culture ahead of his new show Can't coming to Ireland.

Raised by liberal academics with a wicked sense of humour, Scottish comedian Daniel Sloss was bred on a heady mixture of unabashed love and dry wit.

From the age of 17, the funnyman has spent his career providing personal insights into his life: the death of his sister (Dark), observations of toxic masculinity (X), and an examination of romantic relationships that has famously led to thousands of break-ups and many a divorce (Jigsaw).

Tackling serious subject matter with his tongue firmly in cheek, Sloss's stand-up has earned him a loyal following of fans who appreciate his controversial observations as much as his boyband-worthy hair.

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The comic found himself on the brink of burnout in 2019, a consequence of his impressive attempt to exist exclusively on Japanese whisky and airplane snacks while performing 300 shows across 40 countries and writing his first book (Everyone You Hate Is Going to Die: And Other Comforting Thoughts on Family, Friends, Sex, Love, and More Things That Ruin Your Life).

Then came the pandemic. For the first time since his early teens, the stand-up had no stage to stand on, and when the audience went away so too did his swaggering sense of identity.

"I get so worried that I have peaked and that I'm losing the ability… or even worse, it was all just luck; I just struck at the right time when the iron was hot, and I got the success from it and now I'll be like one of those bands who should have broken up seven f**king years ago, like Bloc Party," he tells me over Zoom, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"I think it's from the pandemic. I think it was, upon reflection and through heaps of f**king therapy, I think all my outward confidence and ego... it was definitely there, I had a huge ego in my 20s. I truly thought I was f**ikng god’s gift to comedy, women, and the world because I had such a narrow vision that the only information I took in was all evidence that went towards that."

The more success that came his way, the more it solidified the thick shell of confidence covering his insecurities until eventually, everything, cracked: "The pandemic happened and I went from being Netflix's and HBO's Daniel Sloss to just Daniel."

"I was going into my 30s, which is when the ego of a 20-year-old eventually disappears, combined with being locked in a house thinking: 'Do I have a career after this? All of my confidence, all of my self-perception, all of my self-worth, everything I love about myself comes from this job and if I don’t have that, I don’t know if I’m able to love myself'."

Though he’s been undergoing therapy, the comedian insists that it is the love of his fiancée, Kara - his very own jigsaw piece - that gives him perspective these days.

"Thankfully, I have a partner who loves me unconditionally, which is a weird thing to experience," he admits. "It's not always helpful, but she now finds my anxiety funny because I just get in my head about such stupid s**t. I overthink things because I’m over-analytical. That’s how I write jokes, I break everything down into its finer points."

"I'll still have the swagger on stage," he adds, smiling. "It's impossible not to walk out to 2,500 people and not go 'well, yeah, you're all correct, it is this exciting to see me’. But I’m not sad at the death of the ego. I think it was an important cocoon that kept me from the worst parts of myself."

Now on the cusp of 32, with a wedding to plan and a newborn son to care for, his new show, Can't, will bring audiences with him on the next step of his journey.

"It's so weird because I don't feel that different to the person I was two years ago," he muses. "But the number one thing that I think about when I wake up in the morning, and the number one thing I think about before I go to bed, is my son. And that used to be about me, or people I hate in the world and wishing death on them, or f**king FIFA or whatever."

"It’s not all about him but it’s weird," he continues. "I’m still not 100 percent comfortable with it because, although I love being a dad, the fact that he’s my number one priority scares me."

"For 13 years, stand-up was the focus. It was my number one, it was the f**king be-all and end-all of my life; it was where I got happiness from, validation from, where I got my ego from, and now my priority is my son. I still love stand-up but I do worry that it will make me lose my edge."

"I’m also worried about being fine with it," he adds. "There was a fire under my ass for so many years where I wanted to be one in the best in the world at this job, and certainly for a period of time perceived myself to be. Now I don’t think I’m one of the best in the world but I’m also less bothered by that."

It's worth noting that comedians - like most - are often a mass of contradictions, swimming in self-doubt while demanding time in the spotlight.

Despite the death of his ego and his fear of disappointing fans, Sloss has mastered the art of convincing an audience to follow him through a minefield, and he's absolutely raging at those who get it wrong.

"Your job as a comedian is to absolutely challenge the audience and make them uncomfortable, but you're getting them uncomfortable so that when they get out of their comfort zone, they realise it's also safe. That it's not that bad."

"If your audience doesn’t trust you, that’s your fault. It’s your fault for not being endearing, it’s your fault for not sticking your tongue in your cheek enough, it’s your fault for saying something before and they think you’re a c**t. If people think you’re nice and sweet – and for some reason, my audience do – they will allow you to talk about anything.

"I've done jokes about death, cancer, disability, toxic relationships, abusive relationships, paedophilia, grooming, rape, sexual assault, The Holocaust, 9/11 – and I've not got in trouble for any of those f**king jokes. So you can joke about anything."

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Tearing into "lazy" comedians who blame cancel culture for their lack of success, Sloss posits that a smart joke can never come under fire because, rather than punching down, it is built upon a foundation of empathy.

"I get so f**king bored of the narrative that you can't say anything on stage anymore because it's so fundamentally and categorically not true," he fumes, frustration puffing out alongside the cloud of his vape. "It's a soundbite that the laziest comedians in the world use to justify their poorly written material.

"They want to say controversial things and delve into taboo subjects without any of the emotional maturity, the decorum, or the empathy that is required to talk about those things.

"You might get some negative reaction to what you say but, again, you do not want everyone to like everything you say. Your job as the comedian is to make that more palatable for the audience. How do you get those people on side? If you're not trying to offend them, prove it. Improve the joke.

"For me, comedians complaining about audiences getting offended is like a chef complaining that everyone got food poisoning. How is there no reflection?"

Ultimately, Can't will be an illustration of Sloss family values: wicked humour with a liberal dose of affection. A vitriolic exploration of cancel culture encompassed by lessons in fatherhood and empathy. A smart show without the burnout.

"I feel like this is maybe the start of whatever the next iteration of me is, and I hope it's good," he smiles. "I like a lot of the material I’m doing now."

"That excites me for this next part because I'm going to do this tour for the next two or three years. I’m going to slow everything down and make sure that I’m present in my son’s life."

Whatever his own fears about fatherhood softening his edges, for fans of Sloss’s unique comedic voice it’s exciting to watch as he discovers new layers within this emotional territory. Fatherhood seems to have inspired new kinds of introspection as he shares his hopes for his son to embrace the optimism that has often escaped him.

"There are parts of me that I would like him to have," he says, "but there are heaps that I don't want him to have. I don’t want him to have my anger, I don’t want him to have this propensity for bitterness, and I don’t want him to wake up in the morning and have to look for reasons to be happy.

"I’d much rather he be like Kara and wake up thinking 'why wouldn’t today be a great day?’. That is what he’s like. You walk into the room in the morning and the first thing he does is smile, and you’re like 'yes, buddy, that’s the attitude to have’."

Daniel Sloss will bring Can't to Dublin, Belfast and Galway in October 2022 - visit his website for more info.

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