Kyle Kinane’s Shocks and Struts Is a Rough-Hewn Gem

Comedy special intros can often feel superfluous. Either they’re ham-fisted attempts at humor before the set even starts, or the sort of overeager hype more suited to an MMA fighter than a guy about to tell jokes, or overly stylized and pretentious in a way that’s meant to show us what an artist this comedian is. The beginning of Kyle Kinane’s new hour, Shocks and Struts, is one of those rare stand-up intro segments that works, drawing us into his world before he even starts performing. Honus Honus’ woozy ditty “Empty Bottle” plays over shots of Kinane’s van driving through vast, sweeping desert landscapes. This is a guy who’s no stranger to the open road and carving out his own path—“the king of absolutely nothing,” as Honus Honus sings in a voice not far off Tiny Tim’s.

Kinane is quick to tell the Salt Lake City crowd just how happy he is to be back in front of people after bleak Zoom stand-up sets, and that sense of genuine gratitude is palpable. Much of the set’s first half is tied to covid, though Kinane keeps the oft-discussed subject from being exhausting with his own bracing honesty and because frankly, that dude can make anything funny. 

It’s been said before, but it’s worth repeating that Kinane’s best asset as a comedian is his evocative, poetic use of the English language. He truly paints pictures with his words; an extended bit about just how grody pillows can be almost becomes an ode of sorts. His exquisitely crafted descriptions—one about a truck driver named Garrett particularly stands out—feel so apt as to be nearly familiar, save for the fact that they’re so off-the-wall creative in that signature Kinane way. 

The joy of these elaborate accounts comes from their positioning as well as their content; oftentimes they’re tangents, or tangents within tangents—Kinane’s own matryoshka doll of asides. It gives a glimpse into how his mind works—one minute you’re talking about the cleanliness of hotels, the next about how ancient queer people went looking for spices—that makes the special all the more immersive. Then you’re brought back to his starting point, and you have to laugh at just how far you’ve come. 

As Shocks and Struts goes on, Kinane’s self-deprecation anchors the set and keeps its hairier moments from going sideways. Many of his rougher-around-the-edges jokes largely avoid falling into edgelord territory because he ultimately takes aim at himself. As a whole, the special has plenty of lessons about staying humble, letting people like what they like, and simply trying to get along in a world that’s burning as we speak. 

In this latest special, Kinane is never preachy, but levels with us like the adults we are and throws in plenty of raunch while he’s at it. He doesn’t claim to have any of the answers, but he cares and he brings the laughs for a whole damn hour. That’s more than good enough for me.