If Dan Naturman weren’t a successful comic, he’d be the kind of persuasive salesman who could sell oil to sheikhs, clothes to nudists and a(nother) breast enlargement to Pamela Anderson. He’s that professional, that likable, that personable onstage. Although he sounds like the prototypical irritated New Yorker on Get Off My Property, Naturman’s new CD from Stand Up! Records, his act works anywhere because of its universal appeal.
After you stop laughing at his plight, the harsh slight, you want to form a posse and search for the Wicked Bitch of the West Side who gave our zero a phony number at a bar. Then again, another wound to his ego cannot deter Naturman, who evidently has powers of resilience far beyond those of the average comedian. After all, part of his act, part of his persona, is that Naturman at least sounds as if he dolefully accepts being one more grunt who bravely takes his shots…and misses…like the rest of us foot soldiers in the ongoing battle to get laid (an endless war with impregnable barricades and a bottomless defense budget that women control).
Comedians have better vision than even professional baseball players do, an occupational necessity to see the silly side of serious subjects. From his observation tower, Naturman deftly detects the hilarity in rejection, incarceration, racism, usually humorless topics that witty fundits like Naturman seize from severe media pundits and bend into amusing shapes that anyone can recognize. Do not misconstrue: Naturman, though he glides over heavy issues, always keeps the set light. His charm disarms any explosiveness, so he can concentrate on the truly important matters, like do-it-yourself sex.
His nasal, conversational “I gotta tell you this over a couple of drinks” delivery makes Get Off My Property so listenable, so durable, so downright enjoyable.