Started from the bottom, now she’s “Vaxxed And Waxxed”
From the outside looking in, Eleanor Conway had a pretty good gig going for herself as a music journalist for Virgin Mobile, interviewing the biggest pop stars and singers on the planet. But she was miserable on the inside, and Conway had to change her life inside out. She has since sobered up and lived to joke about it, taking her debut show about sex, addiction and dating, “Walk of Shame,” to more than 10 countries. Conway followed that up with her show, “You May Recognize Me From Tinder.” But her 2021 show, “Vaxxed & Waxxed,” is the first that Conway has brought to the United States, performing in New York City for the 2022 Frigid Festival. Conway sat down with me between shows to talk about her life and career.
Here’s the link to our chat!
And here’s a slightly edited and condensed transcript for you to read. Enjoy!
How are you enjoying America so far?
It’s awesome but horrible at the same time. New York is this monolithic place, isn’t it? It’s this unfriendly place, but it’s also, it’s got this energy to it. It’s got this energy to it that London doesn’t have. I’m loving it. I’m loving it. Like comedy clubs here are awesome. They’re so good. And you know, you’re in the city with the best of the best. So it’s incredible to be here, really.
Is this your first time in New York City?
It is, indeed.
How do you think you would have experienced it as a sound engineer vs. experiencing it as a comedian?
Well, I never really… I just studied sound engineering at university. Nice one. Well done. Nobody’s ever asked me that. But I used to be a music journalist, after I studied sound engineering, and I was doing a lot of drugs at the time, so I’m pretty sure I would’ve fucked up relationships everywhere, probably.
When I was a journalist, in newspapers, which used to be a thing to be a newspaper reporter, I fashioned myself — I was gonna be the next Hunter S. Thompson. Which I thought was going to be fabulous and romantic, and mythic. What did you think you were gonna be when you were a music journalist?
Oh, I don’t know. That’s a really good question. I don’t know. I think I was driven by ego in that point, where it was all about can I get in the VIP? What acts could I speak to? It wasn’t about me performing, which is what I do now. But it was about who can I interview and the level that they were, right? And so it was all about who I could be seen with, or what room I could get in in the club, what after-parties I could get into. Really small thinking, really, but that was what drove it, really. But I was too fearful of my own voice. Right? You know, I got sober about seven years ago. And part of that process is about understanding your voice and accepting it, right?
Yeah. Was it ego that got you into music journalism in the first place?
I wanted to be Bjork. So I studied sound engineering university and I wanted to be Bjork because I wanted to, like, sing and be like a producer and be this sort of like dance music artist, but I was quite lazy. I was quite lazy. And I was drinking. I was drinking a shitload.
But part of being Bjork is being Icelandic, right? There’s a certain aesthetic that the Icelandic people have, that as a Brit, you just can’t.
Yeah, yeah.
I’m not just talking about the swan dress. There’s a whole thing.
But I wanted to be the British Bjork. That’s what I wanted to be. But when she was good. Like not now.
Is Bjork not vaxxed and waxxed?!
I don’t know. So yeah, that’s that, but then I got bored of doing music stuff because pop stars are not that interesting, or fun. And if you get someone like Calvin Harris, who can be fun. Someone like that, like there’s a couple of people who are really fun, but like someone like Justin Bieber is like dry as fuck.
The worst interview I’ve ever been a part of as a journalist was when I was still working for newspapers. Back in like 2006, I interviewed Chris Brown.
Can you separate the man from the arts?
Well, you know, I said 2006, so this is 16 years ago, so he was just a teenager. At the time, I just wrote it off as, oh, he’s 16. Of course. This is what interviewing a 16-year-old is like. He just happens to be a famous 16-year-old.
Don’t you think it’d be weird to be a famous 16-year-old? Fame has changed, hasn’t it?
Yeah. I don’t know if I had social media as a teenager if I would have had better luck. I don’t know that I would have wanted to be famous.
Did you want to be famous?
I think almost famous. In fact, that was one of my favorite movies when I was younger was Almost Famous. I liked the idea of being close to fame without having to deal with all of the hard parts of it. I just wanted the fun aspects, I think, is that what I tried to do as a music journalist? You got to be around people like Justin Bieber, you didn’t have to deal with all the rigmarole?
Well, it’s easier to be around Justin Bieber than to be Justin Bieber, right? It’s an easy way to like, you can guarantee the outcome a little bit easier than like, Oh, I’ve got to be a pop star. So I’m going to be successful pop star. It’s much harder to be a successful pop star than is to be a journalist. No offense.
It’s an interesting question, though, because even when I had that pivot as a journalist, and began getting involved in comedy, I was still young. I was in my mid-20s. And I was in Seattle, which is a good place to be a music journalist. I got involved in improv and then stand-up. But my goal was to host a TV show. My goal wasn’t to be like, doing stand-up in arenas.
Thing is, I think I would like to do stand up in theaters rather than arenas. I think arenas are too big for what I do, to be honest. It’s all about the intimacy and the secrets and you know, uniting the energy in the room and I think a stadium’s too big for that. It’s a poor choice.
I think it’s too big for any comedian, although some enjoy it, maybe because the fame aspect outweighs the logistics. Because I’ve been in the audience at an arena show, and you’re so distant from the art and the artist.
Yeah, yeah. I mean, it’d be a nice problem to have. I’m not gonna lie, Sean. What are you gonna do? I’m sorry, Eleanor, you’re selling out too many theaters, you have to do arenas now.
These are luxury problems.
Yes, luxury problems.
You mentioned being sober, and how being a music journalist wasn’t giving you the satisfaction you desired. Did that turning point happen first with your personal life or your professional life?
It was a bit of a murky one. Because I was doing the show for Virgin, and then it just sort of fell apart and I was drinking a lot. And to be honest, in my heart of hearts, I just felt like I couldn’t go any further? Because I was already like, working for some pretty cool music brands and interviewing loads of people. But the problem with interviewing like a Bieber, is that you have to interview some of the label’s shit acts to get that one. It’s like a little sort of dance with a label. They go, we’ll give you this one but you have to interview three of our upcoming acts, and they’re all shit. Although there’s not a lot to talk about. It’s like, This your debut album? You’re 21? You from Norwich, are you? Do you know what I mean. It’s like, but you still live at home with your mom? And then you hit 30, it’s just a bit soul crushing really. And then I had a period of a slow descent into a car crash. And I was trying to do something in comedy but it wasn’t comedy. It was like hosting. I was trying to put these game shows together. And then I got sober. And I was like, everybody needs to know my story! And I wrote this show. The show about running away with my drug dealer to Asia, to be a music journalist had to like work for mafia, and he was really mean to me out there. He was really abusive, and I never told anyone. It was part of my trauma that had made me come into a massive spiral when I got back from Asia when I was about 28. And, you know, I told this story onstage. I’ve not taken therapy or anything like that, about how he smashed the shit out of me and threatened to kill my family. Horrible shit. And I told it onstage and it was sort of therapy. But it was storytelling, stand-up. People connected with that. And that was really fundamental for me because I thought I needed to tell someone. I thought, easiest way to do that was to do an Edinburgh festival run for 25 days. And I was really dealing with a lot of female shame around getting sober, the stuff that I’d done just before I got sober. And that story that had led me to getting sober, and telling honestly, that story — I genuinely thought audience members would be like ‘Yeah, you deserved it. It’s your fault.’ And really, obviously now I can see that the opposite happened. There was compassion connection, making people cry in my show, which is fucking great if you’re taking your show to the Edinburgh festival. Everyone loves a dead dad story. Or like a trauma story. That’s the festival. That’s the heart of Edinburgh festival. As you know, off the back of that show, I toured it around the world. And so now this current show that I’m doing, Vaxxed and Waxxed, it touches on a lot of like female pleasure, orgasm equality. I talk a little bit about when I was a Sugar Baby, but I was a really bad one. But it deals with a lot of issues of female shame and female sexuality. And it all stems from big firstly from getting sober and telling another woman about all my shame, and her going, ‘Oh yeah, I’ve done that.’ Which anyone listening that’s sober will understand that process. But then also, it’s that first show and that trauma. I’m now doing a bit more of an observational version of that. I’m not digging up any more trauma, because I’ve got none left. I’m seven years sober so I’ve got no trauma left. I’m alright. I’m fine.
Don’t worry. The world will still deliver more trauma.
But it will never be on the scale of when you add alcohol and drugs into the mix. That’s a personal trauma. We’re all in a collective trauma right now, Sean.
You’re talking about how your first show was was Walk of Shame. And in essence, your first show was a little bit of a (recovery) qualification, right? You’re telling your story. But you’re coming out of it with experience, strength and hope that there is a path forward. Obviously, recovery was vital to the process. But in terms of teaching you that you could share your story, and not be scared of your story and not have not have shame about your story.
Well, you know, like the logistical fix is like people in sobriety really supported me even when I was shit. Like when I was properly bad at comedy, they supported me. And there’s that saying in the rooms that people will love you until you love yourself, and I really got that. But I didn’t just get that from the sober people. I got that from the audience that came and saw me, because, you know, it might not have been perfect comedy-wise. But there was a real heart and truth and actually I’ve never heard it explained like that, that it was a qualification. But it was everything, that process of early recovery. That kind of doing you know, I don’t want to talk about it too much, because my sponsor will kill me: You’re not supposed to talk about this stuff in public. But let’s just keep it vague. The honesty that you have to get to when you get sober. That is a fundamental lesson, an adult lesson, like to not have shame, and I think female shame is really horrible. I don’t know. It’s different. It’s very different to male shame because it’s compacted by everyone’s expectations of us. But to be able to have no shame. No shame in anything that I’ve done is, it’s very freeing and it’s very empowering and it allows you to go into the world and just put energy into the world but it’s honest. Yeah, like sometimes I go to another lady. I say, oh, I’m a bit embarrassed. I wish I hadn’t done that. And they go, that’s your truth. Just own it. You know? So yeah, it had everything to do with it, man.
Oh, my God. I’m on New York Hinge at the moment. And I keep matching with moderates, which means they’re Republicans doesn’t it?
Right. That is an interesting thing, to be on a dating app now. That was your second show?
Well, yeah, no, “You May Recognize Me From Tinder” was like, yeah, it was like the sort of modern dating, sex sugar baby show.
But yeah, when you’re when you’re on a dating app today in America. I suppose it could be this way in the UK, too. Where, if you see someone who says moderate, are there really moderates today?
I think it’s Republicans disguising themselves as moderates in order to get laid, because nobody really wants to, no straight. Liberal woman wants to fuck a Republican man for pleasure, really… by the way, shout out to all the Republican you know, straight men listening. I love you. Get in my DMs! It’s my ambition to have sex with a Republican while I’m in America. It’s quite dirty.
Which do you feel you would have an easier time of persuading someone to your political philosophy, through comedy, or through sex?
Through sex, absolutely. Any man will say any shit they could to get naked with another person. They’ll be like, ‘Yeah, I believe in equal rights. Yeah! I believe in freedom of choice. Just let me touch your tits.’
So you think through Hinge, you could have a better track record through Hinge of getting people up your political philosophy than through coming to your show. Coming with you vs. coming to your show.
I was thinking maybe in 2024 when you vote for that the next person to be in the White House, that maybe I could just sort of take, go on a little road trip and do like a Hinge sort of one-woman conversion, you know, get them to vote Democrat. So we don’t get a nutter in the White House. You know, take Hinge and start matching with people in the swing states.
Thinking back again to your new show, Vaxxed and Waxxed, and even just the word vaxxed is such a flashpoint in America. I don’t know if it is in the UK as well. The idea of just getting a vaccination, which is something that as kids we never thought about. Our parents just got us vaccinated for everything when we were kids, and now it’s a political thing.
What I find interesting is I lived in the northwest of England during lockdown. I did a little geographical. I was like, I’m gonna move to Manchester! And then I moved to Manchester and then I went I hate Manchester, and then I moved back down to London, but I didn’t get a dog or a baby and that is the main thing. And what I noticed in some parts of England is that QAnon rhetoric has kind of really filtered through. And I totally think it’s from this, you know, Donald Trump and all his business back, you know, a few years ago. What was the question again? Vaxxed. Yeah yeah yeah, so that anti-vax rhetoric is kind of filtered through that QAnon sense. It’s really odd. It’s really odd. It’s really odd. It’s that emotional, it doesn’t make sense. Like it’s it’s very emotional. What do you think the anti-vaccine thing is about here? At the core? It’s not that people are stupid. It’s something else.
It’s more a sense of tribalism. I get that sense. Social media has helped break us apart into our separate tribes. The idea that Facebook could have your own groups, but now it’s siloed us off and we have our own echo chambers, and that’s all we hear. Everything gets lumped into that. So it’s not just now, are you a Liverpool fan or a Man City fan? Everything has become divided by tribes, and vaccination is just one more thing, where you can only be one side of the divide. And you can’t agree on it? Like you said, people have to masquerade as moderates. You can’t be in the middle. You have to pick a side.
Well, liberal women are the sluttiest. So a Republican man, if he wants access to sex, he’s gonna have to either be conservative but it might take longer and he won’t get easy access to sex or he’s gonna have to have casual sex on the Internet with a liberal.
I though the secret was that it’s actually the conservative women who were kinkiest because they’re so repressed. Just like how people say that the most homophobic politicians are usually the ones who are secretly gay and they’re just outwardly really hateful because they’re, they’re experiencing their own shame.
It’s a weird world, isn’t it? I wish we could go back to the 90s. Not the 80s, because the fashion was too weird. But the 90s. Good era.
The 90s were good for me.
You know what I mean? No cell phones, no social media, telephone numbers on pieces of paper, calling a landline. It was slower, but ourlittle brains can’t deal with 2022 I don’t think.
How do you think you would have fared as a comedian in the 90s?
Well, I was a young child. So probably not well.
That’s the wild thing about comedy in the 2020s is that there are a lot of kids doing it.
Well they Popstardefied it, right? Because now it’s like, yeah, now everyone’s getting younger, they’ll go out and agencies will like pick up a bunch of like 20 or 25 year olds and they’ll bring them on their agency and they’ll just see who wins the race, like labels used to do. Right? They just pick up a bunch of pop stars and then one would make it, and they get rid of the rest.
But social media has made it easier for that, too, because it’s just another shade of being an influencer is to be a comedian on TikTok or say funny things because then you can parlay that into commercial success or brand deals.
Yeah, it’s definitely become more like you know fluid in terms of like you’re not just a singer. You’re now a singer, an influencer. It’s a 360 situation.
How do you view your use of the different platforms?
Well, TikTok, I had a flurry of success during lockdown and then I just got bored. Just got bored, because I ran out of things to talk about. And I think that’s happened for quite a lot with creatives. There’s this kind of imagery that we did loads and we built this during lockdown. I think a lot of us were just fucking trying to get through both financially spiritually and mentally, right? So I’m hoping that my creativeness comes back. Instagram is great, like you guys use Instagram here. I’m really bad. I’m good, but I’m bad at it. And the thing is, I’ve got addiction issues. So if I’m not careful, I will just waste a whole day. I’ve been reading this book by Johann Hari called “Stolen Focus,” which talks about technology hacking our brain and yeah, it’s really great. How we have been hacked, our brains have been hacked by technology. We are the product, and in order for us to get our time back, the whole, like the whole commercial aspect of, the whole model of social media needs to change. We can’t be the product. And he explains it. Or he likens it to back in the olden days when they used to put lead in paint. And everyone went ‘Hang on, you can’t put lead in paint.’ There’s still paint now, it’s just they don’t have lead in it. And he thinks that’s what needs to happen for social media to kind of coexist and benefit us. If all the companies were told by everybody, like the big authorities, you need to fucking sort it out, change the model. They’d have to change the model. And they’re smart people. They’d find ways to monetize it, or have a subscription or whatever, and serve us rather than us being served to advertisers. And I think that that is the point, because our brains aren’t going to accelerate and grow faster. We just got the brain that we have and we just got an old school prehistoric brain at the core of it.
So do you feel like it’s not useful to use social media as a way to try to convey your comedy? The way Eleanor Connolly’s comedy is to see you in person and, and not try to get teased by a TikTok video or an Instagram post and go oh, yeah, I want to see that person.
I think it’s difficult. I think it’s a difficult relationship. Because obviously, the market that we’re in, you have to grow an audience. So you need to put yourself out there a little bit in that mode. Otherwise, you’ll be like one of those road comedians that I speak to in the UK that are like, a little older and they’re like, I don’t get all this TikTok. The newbies coming up with a couple of million on Tiktok, or whatever it is, they’re selling tickets and you know, it’s all about money at the end of the day. I can’t remember what the question was, Sean, but yes!
So how do you feel about trying to sell your comedy or sell your brand online?
I don’t mind it.
Obviously not, otherwise you wouldn’t be on my podcast.
Exactly. Selling my soul to the Devil, Sean.
I mean, you have to understand from from my side of it, the number of lesser comedians I had to interview just to get to you.
Shush.
The backroom deals with your publicist that I had to make.
LAUGHS. Yes, exactly. You’ve got some very good comedians on this podcast. I’m honored. Russell Howard was on it, I was like oh wow, lovely. What’s funny is Russell Howard has been like performing in New York while I’ve been here, and he’s been popping up as like a mystery British guest. A couple of people go ‘We thought it was you.’ I am not famous. And then everyone’s just like, ‘we thought it was John Oliver.’ And like, nobody’s got a clue who he is. And I’m like, he’s one of the biggest stand-ups in the UK. And they’re like, oh, it was Russell Howard, and he was really good. I’m like, yeah, he’s Russell Howard. I’m not surprised.
So I guess that allows us to circle back then to this idea of being close to fame versus being famous yourself. Do you aspire to become famous through comedy?
I aspire to be more wealthy.
There’s an important distinction, isn’t it? You would be perfectly happy, joyous and free if you had a lot of money, and yet people didn’t know who you were.
I’d be happy if I could make more money in comedy, and I’m sure every comedian would be. I think what I’ve learned in the past couple of years is that life is short. You know, I’ve experienced a couple of deaths since lockdown started. Life is very, very short. And it’s actually surprising when you go oh, that person died. How did that person, like what? Life is short. How long have I got left on this earth? How do I want to spend that remaining time? Do I want to spend it chasing money? Or chasing fame? Or do I want to spend the last, remaining years sort of doing what I love traveling around, you know, doing stuff that makes me happy, seeing my family, being a good friend, hopefully meeting someone awesome. And just really living in the present. Like, this idea of chasing this kind of I want to be like, who cares? No one’s gonna remember you after 20 years. Right? So who gives a shit? Just live in the moment. And I think if I could just you know, enough money, maybe good amount of money to buy a nice flat, that’d be good. Also some nice clothes. Also, like, I’d like to get some Botox and get my hair done in a fancy hairdressers and eat well, sushi. Go on nice holidays. But apart from that, but just not enough money, but like loads of it, but like not too much. But you know, does that make sense?
Obviously, I’m somebody who went into newspapers, straight out of university. So I wasn’t thinking about fame or fortune. I just wanted enough to be able to live a happy life.
I think that’s definitely changed for me, in terms of goal. I’ve definitely changed from going I want to make all of the money in the world. But imagine if you spent 80 years trying to make all of the money in the world? You’d have missed out so much. This we were in the space now where there’s such extreme wealth I think you know, what’s his face? Amazon guy sending a cock into space was a really — that’s it, Jeff Bezos — sending a cock into space was a really powerful image. In a time where a lot people were really struggling. The world is struggling climate change. COVID. A lot of people were really struggling to see their families lose, you know, loss of jobs, all that sort of stuff. That’s a real snapshot of where we are right now like that kind of a super rich. How much money do you fucking need? How much money do you fucking need?
I like that you think Jeff Bezos and Richard Branson as a former Virgin employee.
LAUGHS. I mean, he’s got secrets on me.
Has that outlook, does that change how you approach your comedy? Or no?
It’s definitely changing. Like I’m going OK, in 20 years time, because I do a lot of international touring. I do a lot of festivals, right. That’s my main vibe. And then I sprout off into different things. Now I’m kind of going, OK, where do I want to go? Like, where do I want to build next? I want to come to New York. I’m probably going to lose money. I can see myself being in New York in 20 years time. Do I want to go to Jakarta every year? Not really. It’s too far. No offense to Jakarta. But like, do I want is that how I want to spend my time not not really. Sorry, people as Jakarta, my Jakarta crew listening. But I definitely think it’s not always money. So I think in sobriety, I think I can act in quite a lot of fear around money. But actually, I’m trying to deprogram myself and you know, sobriety’s helping a lot to listen to the heart and listen to the standards that you set for yourself. And don’t worry, the universe will provide for you. And I’m trying to say in that element of faith, because the universe has always provided…To come from it as a place from abundance. If I make a decision from fear — oh there’s not enough, I better take this next thing — I’m never that happy. You know, that was quite scary coming here for the first time. But I could never have imagined what it was like to be here. You know, I’m here talking to you. I’m doing my show. I could never have imagined this and, you know, I’m sure there’s wonderful things that are about to happen. You know, maybe not now but maybe in a couple of years time from this trip. So you’ve got to go where the heart leads you.
Right. A couple of years ago, we were at the start of a pandemic and you were thinking Manchester was a good idea. And now look at you.
Funny, isn’t it? Funny.
Now, you’re here in New York City. You’re doing your show and living the dream.
I am living the dream! It’s awesome. Like I am living the dream.
Thanks for sharing part of it with me. I really appreciate it.
Thanks for having me, Sean.
Eleanor Conway: VAXXED & WAXXED runs through March 5, 2022, as part of Frigid New York.
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