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Comedian Kyle Gordon Starts His Passover With Bacon
Illustration: Ryan Inzana
It’s been two years since comedian Kyle Gordon went viral for the techno parody song “Planet of the Bass,” and, since then, he’s built a career out of satirizing through song. Earlier this year, he released the millennial stomp-and-holler song “We Will Never Die,” which spurred a rash of Gen Z–led memes about what have now been deemed “millennial burger joints” — i.e., chalkboard menu, craft beers, overpriced. Now, Gordon, a proud millennial, has released his sophomore comedy-music album, Kyle Gordon Is Wonderful. He spent the last week planning for his upcoming tour, celebrating a slightly unconventional Passover, and taking great pains to preserve his singing voice. “It sometimes feels like I’m in a death-metal band,” he says, “because I’m screaming so much.”
Wednesday, April 9
I wake up and drink three cups of coffee while I scroll. I consume a lot of caffeine first thing in the morning and then not much for the rest of the day. I use a Keurig or, if I forget to buy the pods, stop by a place near my apartment called Sweet Bee. Either way, it’s got a lot of milk and sugar.
I stopped eating breakfast a few years ago. I used to have three bowls of cereal every morning, but over time, I realized that once I eat my first meal, my brain just slows down. I try to get my hardest work done in the morning — writing, creative stuff, anything that requires brainpower. I put off eating to keep my focus.
When lunch finally rolls around, I head to a Dominican spot I love called El Gran Castillo de Jagua. I order a Cubano. It’s very cheap, and for some reason, they never turn the lights on, so it’s always weirdly dark in there. My fiancé, Canning, isn’t the biggest fan of this restaurant, but today she’s the one to propose we go there, which I read as a sign from Hashem that this weekend is going to go really well.
After that, I try to get some work done. I’m a member at a fancy gym, Chelsea Piers, and they have a really nice co-working space. I settle in there and knock out the hard stuff — booking hotels, emailing venues, sorting tech stuff for the tour. Last year’s tour was only 10, maybe 12 cities, and I had a manager. He was great, but managers are expensive. This time around, I’m doing it all myself. I usually travel with a band called Mojohand. They open for me and back me up during my set. And they’re road dogs. They’re super scrappy and used to doing everything themselves; I’m really lucky to have them picking up the slack. We all pitch in: driving the van, setting up merch, running sound check, managing meet and greets. It’s very DIY, and it works.
After I finish my computer work for the day, I meet up with my friend Michael — we’re pitching a feature together. Michael and I started working on the pitch before he left for L.A., and since then, we’ve mostly been working on it over Zoom. This is the first time I’ve seen him in person in a while.
I also get to see his fiancée and my friend, Maggie. They’re house-sitting for someone in Boerum Hill, so I drop by. We half work, half catch up, and order food from Xochitl Taqueria. I opt for a chicken quesadilla.
After dinner, I go home. I’m not drinking right now — mostly for my voice — and I’m trying to be really good about it, so the night ends a little earlier than it would otherwise.
Thursday, April 10
The band picks me up around 10:30, and we drive straight to Boston. Sound check’s at 4 p.m. They scoop me up in the van — a Ford E-350. Picture the most cliché, shitty band van you can muster, complete with Grateful Dead stickers.
On the way up to Boston, we stop for food. I check the map for whatever’s the least out of the way, which turns out to be Wendy’s. I try to get something that’s not going to weigh me down too much or be too cheesy — but, I mean, I’m at Wendy’s. I end up with a classic chicken sandwich.
We’re playing the Crystal Ballroom in Somerville, right on Davis Square. The venue gives us a hospitality buyout — basically just cash to buy food — so I send my band out while I’m doing a podcast with David Benites from the Extreme Vocal Institute. We talk about screaming, basically. Especially now that I’m in my 30s, I can’t fuck around with my voice. That’s why I’m not drinking. I fully dork it up: I’ve got a steamer, lozenges, tea all day, cutting down on dairy, no alcohol, lots of water. I do warm-ups before and cooldowns after every show. It’s all crucial.
I usually don’t like to eat right before a show, so I save my chicken club from Boston Burger Company for later.
This version of the show has been a work in progress for, like, ten years. I used to think of it as a comedy show with music. Now, it’s really a funny concert. From a comedy perspective, it totally messes with my brain. Comedy relies on surprise; people expect something new. But at a concert, it’s “play the hits.” People want to hear what they already know. Figuring out that balance has been the most interesting part.
The show ends up being one of the best I’ve ever done. Genuinely. It’s completely bananas. The audience sings along. Standing-room only, full band, people jumping and moshing during the heavy songs, swaying during the mellow ones. People know all the words, even to my brand-new metal song. I’ve been teasing it, but still, it’s wild to hear people already singing along.
I scarf down the chicken club afterward. It’s cold at this point, but it’s just fuel.
Friday, April 11
I get back to New York around 3 a.m., and I get to sleep in. The only thing on my to-do list is picking up pickles for my dad — he’s really into the Pickle Guys on the Lower East Side and wants me to grab some for Passover. So I turn it into a lunch outing with Canning.
We go to Dim Sum Palace in Chinatown. I love anything gooey or sticky-textured, so I order the shrimp noodle roll — that thin, sticky rice-noodle sheet wrapped around shrimp.
After lunch, we walk over to the Pickle Guys. My dad and I like them super, super sour. But they also have to be kosher for Passover. I don’t totally understand how pickles wouldn’t be, but my dad’s very religious, so I have to be sure. When I get there, they’ve got a whole list taped up outside with all the kosher-for-Passover options. Very legit.
We go home after that and just veg out. I eat leftovers from lunch for dinner, and afterward, we head to my friend Maya’s birthday at Casanara. Another friend, Justin, brought a raspberry babka from Zabar’s, which he’s apparently obsessed with. He’s like, “Zabar’s just dropped babka — had to get it.” It’s amazing, but I still prefer chocolate.
Saturday, April 12
We sleep in, and Canning makes eggs and bacon before we head over to Westchester for Passover. Not ideal to eat bacon on Passover, I know. I hope my dad doesn’t read this.
Loving bacon is another meme about millennials sparked by “We Will Never Die.” For the record: I love fancy, stupid millennial burgers. The song was made out of love. One of my oldest friends owns a legitimately fantastic smashburger spot in Manhattan called Cubby’s. We made a video together recently where I offer an official apology to all millennial burger restaurants. (On behalf of all of them, he does not accept.)
We leave for Passover around 3:30. Once we get to Westchester, we head straight to my Aunt Carol’s house for the first night of Seder. Standard fare, but still great. There’s sweet potato, matzo-ball soup, and roasted chicken with saffron. My cousin Max makes roasted lamb, which has some kind of biblical significance that he explains during dinner, and I immediately forget. It tastes amazing, though.
There are people there I haven’t seen in a while. I have a big family, and everyone’s invited. I get a lot of, “Oh, you’re still doing the comedy? That’s fantastic.” And then, “I’ll have to Google you.”
This is also the first big family event since getting engaged. I proposed about a month ago, right before going on tour. That timing worked out well — we’d already started planning the wedding, so the engagement was kind of the last step. Canning inherited her grandmother’s (very large) diamond. When my own grandmother sees it, she says, “You deserve it. You deserve a rock this big.”
Sunday, April 13
We stay over in Westchester since my parents are hosting the second night of Seder. My mom is cooking for 40 people, and she’s very type A, but also kind of ADD. She’s running around the kitchen prepping everything, totally in the weeds.
Meanwhile, I’m an idiot — I lost my passport. I need to get it expedited because I’m going to Canada on tour. So, this morning, I have to drive back into the city. While I’m there, I stop at Zucker’s and get a bagel … I really hope my dad doesn’t read this.
Back in Westchester, I get to work on a music video I’m making with a comedy band called OCT that happens to be from my hometown. We need to finish filming a scene in which I sign divorce papers, and we wanted to do it in a suburban setting, so it all worked out. My mom, Canning, my sister, and my brother are all back at the house preparing for the Seder. I do not help at all, and by the time I get home, guests are already starting to arrive. Bad son.
Passover is my dad’s Super Bowl; he’s very religious and has a scholarly, academic vibe. He opens with discussion questions about the story of Passover. He breaks everyone off into groups and gives everyone a different topic, then makes us present to the whole room. There’s always one that’s dumb and fun. This year, it’s designing a diorama out of Passover food. Canning, my sister, and my sister-in-law re-create baby Moses in a basket floating down the Nile with matzo and jelly rolls. They do a very good job.
The Seder itself is long. Like, really long. People show up around five, and we don’t eat until after eight. Luckily, there are snacks out: kosher-for-Passover Doritos and my mom’s homemade chopped liver, which I love unabashedly.
We also have matzo-ball soup, brisket, smoked Moroccan chicken, apple raisin kugel — just a completely over-the-top Passover spread. Most importantly, this year, my mom manages to make my grandma’s famous chicken fricassee meatballs. Grandma’s slowing down a bit and doesn’t remember much, but those meatballs were legendary growing up. That was the Seder dish. My mom did a bunch of research and figured out how to re-create them. And they’re amazing.
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