Likable comedian Andrew Norelli a regular guy worth seeing

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Who is Andrew Norelli?

Just a normal guy who maintains, “You don’t have to live life to the fullest every day. Pick your days.” One who is pretty good with technology, but “just can’t keep up with the rate it evolves. The nerds need to take six months off to let the rest of us catch up.”

But why is he headlining at the Las Vegas Hilton?

The answer that best justifies it won’t help you much: He’s the winner of the World Series of Comedy, a stand-up contest that was just one of too many Las Vegas events to keep up with last year.

But the Alexis Park competition — along with a recommendation from the better-known Hal Sparks — helped Norelli land a berth in the Hilton’s “Icons of Comedy.” Ambitious name aside, the Shimmer Cabaret series is becoming more a home for comedians stranded between the anonymous club bills and the big-name concerts.

But here’s another answer: Though he is still basically in that anonymous club category, Norelli is a comedian worth a full hour of your time. And he does so by being a regular guy, not a TV star or an overamplified stage character.

“I’m not edgy. Not cool. This is all I got, all I can pull off,” he tells the audience of his regular shirt and jeans. “I can have a dragon (tattoo) on my arm and I’m still gonna look like the choir teacher from ‘Glee.’ ”

He’s so normal he can’t even scream the “Point Break” line, “I can’t handle a cage!”

“Sir, settle down. I’m just telling you that Jamba Juice is closed.”

Still, you warm quickly to his likable stage presence and common-sense insight. He lives in California, a state with a disproportion of buff and beautiful people. So they assign themselves ailments the rest of the country hasn’t heard of, like “Wheat gluten spleen disorder.”

His average life takes him to places we all go, so he makes jokes about Best Buy and other companies that usually fly under the radar of airline-obsessed comedians. Some companies give up trying to snow you, he says. Motel 6 sets the bar of expectations so low that all they really promise is, “You’re outdoors. We’re indoors. C’mon in.”

These quoted fragments don’t do justice to the careful crafting and pace of Norelli’s jokes, but the judges noticed in last fall’s stand-up competition.

“Contests put you in an unnatural situation with a different kind of pressure,” Norelli says by phone. “It forces you to be more precise. … The judges are looking at the quality of your content, how you start your set, how you segue into each joke. Things a normal crowd wouldn’t even be conscious of.”

It would seem easier to be one’s self than, say, a magnified stage presence such as Carrot Top or the late Mitch Hedberg. But normal comes with its own challenges. “It’s still amazing how long it takes just to figure out what is interesting about you and what is different about you, and how to speak your true opinions in an interesting way,” he says.

Another interesting thing about Norelli: He works clean, but you hardly notice until he points that out. “You can be edgy or provocative while still being careful and precise with your language,” he says. But most people don’t care. “All the crowd wants you to do is be good.”

Can a normal guy working clean in Las Vegas really become an “Icon of Comedy”? Time will tell. But for one weekend, at least, Norelli is an unknown name you can trust.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.