Leah Moss has made some poor life choices, but bringing her funny ass to the Austin stage sure as hell isn’t one of them. A delightful presence around Austin, Leah’s wit is tempered with a sort of Grace Kelly-meets-Joan Jett bad-ass grace. (That’s a compliment, Leah.) She is also a writer for the East Austinite.
LAFF: How did you get into comedy in the first place? I know I met you in the Coldtowne parking lot a few years ago, but did it start for you earlier than that?
Well I have been a narcissist for most of my life. I realized my singing career was a wash after a decade of scotch and cigarettes so I needed to find something that still brought attention to myself without having to take my clothes off. I was heavily involved in theater for many years and when I wasn’t getting stage time I would insert inappropriate jokes into conversation. I took a brief hiatus from thinking about myself to study sustainable development and post-structuralist philosophy. Somehow all that critical thought really put me in the mood to challenge people’s constructs through performance and satire. Comedy just seemed right. So, when I came to visit Austin on my spirit quest I decided to take a sketch writing class at ColdTowne. They offered me the perfect combination of fundamentals and ego stroking. So, I decided to run with comedy as my passion and let the starving people in India figure it out for themselves.
LAFF: Should funny people move to Austin or should they stay the hell away, as we already have enough?
Bring it on! I would love to see the comedy bar raised here. Austin is a great place for creative types because you can get away with doing nothing. At the same time, it offers you ample opportunity to do awesomeness. Besides, at this point everyone in Austin is already from California, at the very least we could get the funny ones so I can be jealous of them for more than just their toned bodies and perfect tans.
LAFF: What advice do you give to someone who wants to do their own one-woman show?
Write what you know. Take every part of you that you hate and put that on stage. The ugly parts are often the funniest and most human moments you can find. Oh, and get a friggin director. Seriously, writing and performing by yourself is enough. You need the eyes of someone else to tell you when you are making crazy faces or accidentally showing your lady bits.