Pitchfork

Here are a bunch of things Patton Oswalt does not do: Patton Oswalt's observations don't need primary sources to be funny (he doesn't read off pamphlets, Village Voice personal ads, or play videos). And while some of his routines do lay judgement on Middle America (Republicans, overweight fast food consumers), he doesn't spare hipsters either. He never sinks into sneering condescension as David Cross so frequently does. And his careful timing eliminates the non-sequitur flights of fancy that labelmate Eugene Mirman's jokes become. This CD should be Patton Oswalt's biggest achievement this year, but it's not: He's the lead voice role in Disney's Ratatouille (which through last weekend had already grossed north of $175 million domestic).

Ratatouille, the animated feature to which Oswalt lent his voice-over talents, was in the process of becoming a huge hit just as I received this album, so it's difficult for me to describe Patton Oswalt as an "alternative" comedian. Not that it was an appropriate label before. Years spent against the stand-up circuit's red-brick walls have given his act the perfectly measured timing and dynamic variation (one joke is "like a Pixies song") lacking in many "alternative" comedians. Even in the middle of what sounds like a drunken rant, Oswalt exhibits a masterful control over the tone and pacing of his material. Which isn't to say that Werewolves and Lollipops is an evening at the Improv. Fed up with the standard comedy clubs and two-drink minimums, Oswalt co-founded the Comedians of Comedy, a series of tours that bring stand-up comedians (usually Oswalt, Mirman, and Brian Posehn, among others) to small-to-moderately sized rock venues around the country.

Werewolves and Lollipops conquers the big problem with most comedy CDs which is that they're often disposable after one or two listens. But when you recall one of Oswalt's jokes-- in particular, his bits about KFC bowls, his "Physics for Poets" class, and his deft handling of a show heckler-- you want to hear him deliver it, you don't just need to hear it again in your head, or repeat it to someone else. His jokes about geriatric childbirth, birthdays, marriage, and expensive restaurants-- which sound way more like "observational" comedy than they actually are-- don't rely on pop culture knowledge, which will add to its life span as well. One way he packs so much in here is that he ignores transitions, sometimes blowing a raspberry as signal that a new bit's on deck. Oswalt's comedy isn't self-pitying either: After jokes about his weight (in photos he appears to be 5'1", and made out of spent Bubblicious), he points out later that he used to get laid quite a bit. He laments that his "geekiness is getting in the way of [his] nerdiness," but kicks off the show with a Dane Cook-style "I'm drunk, here we go!"

The allusions to literature work well with Oswalt's effortless, hyperbolic verbal dexterity. It's obvious during his rant at the heckler, where he moves from stilted mock-serious phrases ("when the cities are but dust... necromancers walking the wastelands...") to plainer taunts ("you stupid douchenozzle") to make fun of the interrupter. He never turns mean. Later he compares his worship of GG Allin and Harlan Ellison to his current love of four-star chefs-- another moment that reveals his geekiness and, I think, the reason why his jokes stay well between David Cross-malicious and Demetri Martin-milquetoast. He softens many punchlines by singing them. All of this translates to an unpretentious likability, which may reflect Patton Oswalt as a person, but is most likely traceable, again, to an unrelenting professionalism. When much alternative comedy consists of clever tricks and YouTube videos, it's a relief just to hear someone tell a joke.