Tinder Bios, Evil Cats, and Spoken Word

“I’m sorry, did you just say you have a cat named SUSHI?!?! That is the most New York thing I’ve ever heard,” slam poet Neil Hilborn shouts at a front-row audience member. He then proceeds to burst out laughing.

As the last of the laughter fades away, Hilborn assumes a semi-solemn expression and continues with the poem he had been performing before interrupting himself: “Song XII: In Which the Author Possibly Alienates His Audience,” in which he declares his fervent hatred of cats and his wholehearted belief that they are inherently diabolical creatures.

Hilborn’s work has been shared frequently throughout the Internet: you may have heard his “OCD” poem, which has garnered over 86 million views on Facebook. As a part of his nationwide tour to promote his new book, “The Future,” Hilborn stopped by Brooklyn for the night on March 24. He is not new to touring: he has already been on multiple poetry tours and has become a veteran of the spoken word community.

At 8:00 p.m., the Murmrr Theater at Grand Army Plaza is crowded with hundreds of twenty-something Brooklynites and buzzes with tangible energy. The medium-sized theater, which doubles as a synagogue, is dimly lit by a few chandeliers hanging above and LED light emanating from a wooden stage. Most of the hundreds of cushioned seats are filled. I make my way to the eighth or so row, sit, and wait for the show to begin.

The show opens with Brianna Hunt (also known by her moniker “Many Rooms”) performing several original songs on her electric guitar, distinct for their melancholy style. A while later, former lead singer of the heavy metal band “Life of Agony,” Mina Caputo, follows, performing a series of soft-rock ballads. Collectively, their set lasts around two hours. Though both are undeniably talented musicians in their own right, various parts of their excessively long repertoire leave the room static, and the two hours are ultimately a tiresome wait.

At 10 p.m., thunderous applause cuts through creeping fatigue as Neil Hilborn walks on stage. Sporting a simple denim vest, black T-shirt, and jeans, along with a strong beard game, Neil Hilborn stands alone at a microphone stand above hundreds, yet his charismatic presence has no difficulty filling every crevice of the room.

From the get-go, scores of “I LOVE YOU”s are shouted, to which he comically shouts, “NO!... I love YOU,” in return, creating ripples of laughter. Soon, however, he half-jokingly acknowledges that he is going to break the cheerful atmosphere by performing “sad poems.” But he invites, or more so encourages, the audience to laugh at even the dark parts, suicide jokes not being an exception. “Listen,” Hilborn chuckles, “if you’re uncomfortable with suicide jokes, then it’s gonna be a pretty sh*tty set.”

For the next hour, Hilborn performs a myriad of poems that range from one to three minutes long. He first structures his set with “sad poems,” followed by several of his comical ones that elicit deafening uproars from the audience. His most intense, emotional works constitute the climax of the show, and he closes with more light-hearted yet nonetheless powerful poems.

The audience cracks up at his performance of “Rejected Ideas for Tinder Bios,” in which he shares a list of humorously self-deprecating mock Tinder bios that are simultaneously sad yet all too laughable. Yet there are times when the room is completely silent other than Neil’s voice candidly painting his past struggles: depression, suicide attempts, heartbreak, and the ugliness of mental illness. However, throughout it all, you can count on each poem remaining true to his identity and distinctly Hilborn: anecdotal, personal, and laced with a unique humor that makes it inviting to the listener.

The show is far from Hilborn packing in poem after poem; rather, it is a dialogue between him and the sea of reciprocating stans in front of him. He shares multiple humorous anecdotes, regaling the audience with stories about inadvertently insulting a blonde Trump supporter who has been at his Philly show three years in a row and counting, to awkwardly performing to an angered crowd in Wisconsin after having mistakenly insulted the Green Packers, to having a statue of Jesus Christ looming above his head in one of his past tour venues as he shouted “HAIL SATAN” throughout his set, to being tagged on Instagram in a photo of a follower vaping, along with the caption of one of his lyrics, “Learn to make clouds using only your breath.”

Hilborn engages with audience members avidly. The chemistry is not contrived but organic: those at the show would have caught him trashing the NY Rangers with an audience member unapologetically, flipping off the entire audience multiple times, and having a laughing fit that lasts several solid minutes during the middle of one of his performances. These tangents are welcomed with delight by the audience, and are perhaps the chief reason why his live shows are worth attending.

Hilborn announces that he will end with one last poem, and an audience member aggressively shouts “NO!!!” in response, inducing one of Hilborn’s last laughing fits of the show. As his last words ring in the theater, he takes a deep breath, steps back from the microphone stand, and walks offstage in farewell.