Scuttlebutt

Sean Patton’s second comedy album is built on the premise that human beings are like glow sticks: we can’t truly shine until someone cracks us. The centerpiece of the set is a masterful exercise in narrative vulnerability, detailing how a devastating first heartbreak at age twenty led him to seek solace at a questionable suburban Louisiana strip club called Scuttlebutts. It is a story about crying in public, overbearing bouncers, and the realization that his first girlfriend might have been right when she told him he was simply too emotional. Released by Helium Comedy Records in December 2019, the 52-minute recording captures Patton at a point in his career when he was widely regarded as one of the most physically dynamic storytellers on the club circuit. He also spends a significant portion of the set recounting his lifelong struggle with obsessive-compulsive disorder, reframing his mental health hurdles as a weird sort of superpower. The audio format strips away Patton’s usual onstage physical theatrics, leaving his manic vocal delivery to do the heavy lifting of turning everyday self-deprecation into high drama.