Katie Goodman

Katie Goodman sits at a piano or stands with an acoustic guitar and plays fast. Whether slipping into a mock-rap or belting a few bars of opera, she crams her lyrics with syllables and sudden left turns. She rarely waits for the applause to fade before starting her banter, keeping the audience off-balance by talking rapidly while tuning her guitar. On stage, she is cheerful but aggressive, carrying the timing of a cabaret singer and the exasperation of a parent leaving a frustrating PTA meeting.

Goodman plays off-Broadway rooms and benefit shows, touring both solo and with her long-running satirical troupe Broad Comedy. She acts as a release valve for left-leaning audiences. She doesn’t just validate their worldview; she gives them a place to complain about it.

Her songs bounce from homophobia to the daily grind of elementary school fundraisers. She is sharpest when she undercuts her own messaging. She recognizes the earnestness in her politics and deflates it by leaning into her identity as a middle-aged mother from Brooklyn. She complains about her aging knees and uses cheerful profanity to keep the material from feeling like a lecture. Because her references are specific, she can occasionally lose a crowd that doesn’t share her cultural touchstones. When a room does connect, the set feels like a loud, fast-paced rally.

She co-writes much of her music with her husband, Soren Kisiel, and works as an improv instructor. That background in improvisation keeps her crowd work loose and reactive, providing a necessary breather between the dense lyrics of her musical numbers.