The Tapestry of Ellis Aych

This week’s guest has been with us in Austin since 2000, but we’ve been crim­i­nal­ly neg­li­gent in get­ting Ellis Aych (sounds like ​“H”) on the pod­cast until just this year. Even though the episode clocks in at a near-record 90 min­utes, trust us, it’ll feel like it flew by in an instant.

Armed with a smooth drawl that very much speaks to grow­ing up in Louisiana, then Elgin, Texas, before land­ing in Austin, Aych has no short­age of projects, his­to­ry, and philo­soph­i­cal obser­va­tions to lay on Valerie. One recur­ring theme: expound­ing on how he ​“loves indi­vid­u­als, [but] can’t stand peo­ple”. ​“Indi­vid­u­als are rich peo­ple with a full life, and a tapes­try of mem­o­ries,” Aych notes, a per­spec­tive that aligns per­fect­ly with how he immers­es him­self in a giv­en top­ic (be it per­son, place, or thing).

High school the­ater gave Aych his first taste of shar­ing those per­spec­tives to an audi­ence, and act­ing has been a theme — and source of pride — for him ever since. His first on-screen role came from a friend who was direc­tor a small-town hor­ror flick called Bloody Home­com­ing.

The ​“inten­tion­al­ly bad” film (Aych jokes ​“it hurts so good” how bad it is) cement­ed his desire to get in front of the cam­era, lead­ing to sev­er­al com­plet­ed and upcom­ing roles. He sug­gests you check out his role in 2020’s The Good Hearts Club, which is very much avail­able on Ama­zon Prime at this very minute. Sev­er­al oth­er projects are in the works, but, on this, he’s unchar­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly tight lipped, as details can’t be shared just yet.

Beyond act­ing, Aych didn’t real­ly engage the com­e­dy scene until fair­ly recent­ly, doing his first open mic in 2016. Hot off a per­for­mance where Aych swears he ​“killed”, it took a mere two (checks notes) years to hit the stage again. When he says he’s ​“big on prepa­ra­tion”, clear­ly we have to take him seriously.

For that sec­ond out­ing, host Sym­ply Court­ney asked Aych for a 20 minute set. A typ­i­cal open mic set is 4 – 5 min­utes, so that kind of ask, with only 5 days’ notice, could have been a dis­as­ter in the mak­ing. Aych didn’t even break a sweat.

“[I was] flood­ed with ideas, a cacoph­o­ny,” Aych recalls, not­ing that his ​“best ideas come under pres­sure, when it’s crunch time”. A scant 6 months lat­er, he per­formed in a com­e­dy com­pe­ti­tion, and we’re hap­py to say that his appear­ances have become quite a bit more regular.

How reg­u­lar? Aych has per­formed on the renowned Kill Tony show 8 times (so far); for a show based on names drawn from a hat, it’s a killer streak, though he admits that if he ​“didn’t get picked [the first night]” he might nev­er have gone back.

The con­joined inter­ests of act­ing and com­e­dy seem to suit Aych per­fect­ly, with oppor­tu­ni­ties for rich explo­ration and barbed rejoin­ders on both sides. ​“Act­ing and com­e­dy [are] two women that I love dear­ly,” he says, with ​“act­ing being by my side since we start­ed out togeth­er” and com­e­dy bring­ing that razor’s edge of unpre­dictabil­i­ty: ​“I don’t know what she’s going to do; she might stab me”.

It’s a vis­cer­al­ly fun­ny jux­ta­po­si­tion, and Aych has no short­age of them. He jokes about not being a lawyer due to the ​“amount of punc­tu­a­tion you have to know”, say­ing ​“I don’t know what the fuck a semi­colon is!” Not even a breath pass­es before he fol­lows up: ​“Don’t they con­join two inde­pen­dent clauses?” 

Aych’s abil­i­ty to take a rich and nuanced look at the world, then have you break­ing out with snort-laughs, made me an instant fan. When talk turns to what could have been a pure­ly poignant sto­ry about the death of a beloved uncle, Aych walks you right into the unex­pect­ed, describ­ing a time when they’d hang out ​“eat­ing ribs and watch­ing porn at 10am”. Your thoughts on porn (or ribs) aside, it’s hard to imag­ine a bet­ter sto­ry open­ing to take you out of your seat and put you right in the memory.

“[I’ve always been] an indi­vid­ual who can enter­tain and cap­ti­vate an audi­ence,” Aych says, then jok­ing ​“and I’m enti­tled to my opin­ion”. He admits that may sound ​“pompous, or arro­gant”, but insists it’s just the stage per­sona. It does bite you in the end, Aych says, talk­ing about the ​“hang”: that after-show time where the comics net­work, or — as we say in the biz — drink. Aych sees the impor­tance, but has to pri­or­i­tize: ​“I know I got work at, like, eight in the morn­ing. I did my set. I’m gonna go home.”

Beyond a day job, act­ing, and doing com­e­dy, there’s no short­age of oth­er projects tak­ing up Aych’s time, and indeed the day has only so many hours. He’s been pro­duc­ing shows, some­times up to 5 at once; one week where he had shows going in San Anto­nio, Austin, and Dal­las at the same time. 

It’s a lot, and that’s not count­ing Aych’s own stage time. ​“By the grace of God, I’ve been get­ting shows every week,” he says, and teas­es a big oppor­tu­ni­ty he doesn’t want to risk talk­ing about just yet for fear of cos­mic ret­ri­bu­tion: ​“I’m a neg­a­tive per­son­al­i­ty mas­querad­ing as a pos­i­tive personality.”

I’m going to get real for just a sec­ond here, and tell you go to lis­ten to the episode if you haven’t. If we tried to cram in every­thing Aych shared, this arti­cle would end up being a nov­el, or a philoso­phies the­sis, maybe an ency­clo­pe­dia set unto itself. This is a man that, in the same con­ver­sa­tion, dropped: Robert Frost, Ernest Hem­ing­way, Thomas Edi­son, astrol­o­gy, iden­ti­ty theft, inte­ri­or dec­o­rat­ing, and at least two men­tions of ​“tit­ties”. That’s not even close to a com­plete list, so do your­self the favor and immerse for an hour and a half.

The one thing per­haps more impor­tant than the ​“hang” in com­e­dy, is some­thing I’ll call the ​“jolt”. That moment where your brain skips a beat because some­one mar­ries two wild­ly dis­parate con­cepts or lin­guis­tic styles in a way that breaks you. It’s fleet­ing, a flash of cere­bral light­ning last­ing no more than a hand­ful of mil­lisec­onds, but it’s the kind of thing that makes an entire set. From our time with Ellis Aych, it’s clear he’s a mas­ter of them, ensur­ing it’s well worth your time to get out and see his act­ing and com­e­dy. That’s our opin­ion, and we’re enti­tled to it.

Fol­low Ellis

• Link­tree — link​tr​.ee/​E​l​l​i​saych
  
• Insta­gram — @ellis_aych
• Tik­Tok — @ellisaych
• Youtube — youtube​.com/​c​h​a​n​n​e​l​/​E​l​l​i​sAych
• Face­book — face​book​.com/​e​l​l​i​s​.aych

Ellis can be seen and heard:

• The Com­e­dy Sta­tion (SAN ANTO­NIO, TX) ⁷⁄₁₂ buy tick­ets
  
• Cap City FPIA (AUSTIN, TX) ⁷⁄₁₆ buy tick­ets
• Lucy’s Com­e­dy Club (NEW BRAUN­FELS, TX) ⁷⁄₂₀