A funny thing happened on the way to Wembley ... Ricky Gervais at Live Earth. Photograph: Daniel Deme/EPA
The news that two Canadian comedians, Jason Rouse and Tony Long, bombed rather spectacularly at a fundraising gig headlined by Dirty Pretty Things will remind many of the early 90s, when comedy was constantly described as "the new rock'n'roll" thanks to a new breed of comedians born out of the British student union circuit and alternative comedy clubs.
The epitome of these new comedic gunslingers were Newman and Baddiel, whose appearance at a 12,000-capacity Wembley arena is recognised as the zenith of the rock'n'roll/comedy crossover. The attempted symbiosis of these two art forms has always been less easy than the glib phrase would suggest. Some of us are still waiting for Baddiel to say something vaguely mirth-inducing, while contemporaries such as Punt and Dennis were never close to rivaling rock stars - they were post-Python student am-dram types.
So why does comedy performed in front of a rock audience fail so often? The fact that Rouse's routine purportedly consisted of unfunny jokes about bestiality, incest and misogyny, and that Long's assertion that the unreceptive audience should get their "heads kicked in", is actually neither nor there. After all, jokes about incest or bestiality can be funny. No, the problem was surely that the punters who paid to see Carl Barat and co at Hackney Empire were there to drink lager while watching some skinny young men strut around in leather jackets. Having their expectations challenged, sensibilities offended and opinions taxed was probably not on their agenda when they squeezed themselves into their drainpipes a few hours earlier.
It hasn't always been this way. From Lenny Bruce to Bill Hicks and on to Doug Stanhope, comedians have found favour with rock audiences by tapping into the psyche of those drawn to countercultural ideals or the perceived outsider status of the rock fan. That they adopted lifestyles to rival Keith Richards' only made them more appealing. That said, they were usually preaching to the converted - comedy crowds, not an audience that was there for a rock gig.
Back in the cosy world of mainstream comedy, I defy you to disagree that Ricky Gervais's (him again) solo comic spots at the Concert for Diana and Live Earth were piss-poor. When a genuine, perception-shattering voice does appear in the UK - the merciless Jerry Sadowitz springs to mind - they're immediately pushed to the margins.
It's American comedians who have come closest to presenting comedy to music crowds successfully, possibly because they and their audiences have more to rail against and almost definitely because their home country is an overbearingly conservative one. The current crop of comedians such as heavy-metal loving Brian Posehn, the aforementioned Doug Stanhope, Patton Oswalt and David Cross, who releases DVDs and albums on Sub Pop, suggests that comedy can be utterly rock'n'roll - because they love music and because they couldn't care less.
Ultimately, comedy is comedy and music is music. Until Iggy starts telling mother-in-law jokes or Alex Turner transfers his observational skills to witty vignettes ("Scummy men in Ford Mondeos ... what's that all about?") you suspect they will remain that way.
