Comedian Chris Porter Talks Small-Town Roots, Vinyl Obsession, and Rock Star Nights with Meltdown

By Meltdown

When you get a guy like comedian Chris Porter on the line, you know you’re in for a wild ride. We caught up ahead of his weekend shows at Mark Ridley’s Comedy Castle in Royal Oak, and as expected, we ended up talking about everything from getting lost before GPS to vinyl rarities, Kid Rock’s house, and why you shouldn’t let an 8-year-old own a Thriller record.

Right off the bat, Chris introduced me to his travel companion. “This is Lucy,” he said, holding up his little dog. “She comes with me sometimes, but not always. I’m only in town for a few days, just long enough for her to not get scared and start eating again. She stays with my parents when I’m on the road—she’s got a dog buddy over there.”

Chris is no stranger to Detroit stages, but we got into how lazy promo can be these days. “I googled your name earlier and saw this local site just copied and pasted your bio,” I joked. “Classic,” he said. “I’ve had bios say I’m 27… and that was 20 years ago. People don’t even bother anymore. And now with AI, you can just ask it to write something.”

Speaking of AI, Chris had thoughts. “I don’t use it—it freaks me out. I’m afraid I’ll ask it for help with a paper and it’ll say ‘kill your parents’… and make a convincing case.” He laughed, adding, “I heard it’s also bad for the environment? Something about needing water to cool the servers. But I get my news from Instagram, so maybe don’t quote me.”

We also laughed about the differences in how we grew up compared to today. One of the best lines I ever heard him say came from the Kid Rock Comedy Jam:

And he wasn’t joking.

I shared my own story from my move to Detroit, where a truck driver friend gave me directions like “take the first big bridge, then the 403, then the 401.” Simple, right? “But what’s a big bridge?” Chris cracked. “Compared to what? Every bridge is big!”

Chris grew up in Shawnee, Kansas, but went to high school out in DeSoto, a much more rural area. “I didn’t grow up on a farm, but plenty of my friends did. Some of them were baling hay at 4 AM, and I’d wake up 14 minutes before school.”

We both graduated with small classes—his had 104 people, mine around 125—and we agreed: you knew everyone. “And you probably could’ve told anyone where they lived,” I said. “Totally,” Chris replied. “Most of them still live there. I went back to speak at a career day, and four girls I went to high school with are now teachers there!”

Chris admitted that even though he’s lived a wild life touring, he sometimes envies those who stayed local. “There’s something peaceful about that life. Like an episode of Leave It to Beaver—everything you ever knew, right there. But I’m also glad I left, saw the world, did some crazy stuff. Still, I miss when things felt massive, when being backstage at a concert was a big deal.”

I told him some of the stuff we’ve done together over the years is so insane, it doesn’t even feel real anymore. “Yeah, like when your friend is a Zac Brown fan, and you’re like, ‘Oh yeah, I just played guitar with him at Kid Rock’s house.’”

We both agreed—our lives have been blessed.

“Live football? No thanks,” Chris added. “They shoot it better on TV, and I don’t have to deal with people I hate.”

We also talked about his close friendship with Brad Williams, who’s not just a comic peer—he’s Chris’s best friend in the business. “We came up together. His rise has been a little more meteoric, but we’ve always stayed close. I just had dinner with him in LA.”

One time, I saw them at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, and mid-show, Chris Kirkpatrick from NSYNC jumped up on stage. I had been standing at the bar, wondering why he looked so familiar. “Brad asked me to play guitar with Zach [Myers] and Chris Kirkpatrick,” Chris said. “Big ask from a short dude—but we got it done.”

Speaking of Zach Myers, Chris and Zach have a side project called Campfire Astronauts, a mix of storytelling and music. Their show at the Machine Shop in Flint was unforgettable. “That was the best show of the tour. We don’t rehearse, so each one gets tighter. Kevin [Zink] at the Machine Shop took a chance on us—legendary venue.”

Then we hit a shared passion: vinyl records.

Chris owns some gems—like a third-state Beatles Butcher cover. “Found it in a shop in New York. The guy had six of them. Some collector died, and I just walked in on the right day.”

I mentioned I own a second-state Butcher cover, and he told me it’s getting rarer. “So many got peeled that second-states are becoming more valuable.”

His first record? “Thriller. I was eight. It’s trashed—shouldn’t have let a kid handle vinyl. But I’ve since bought three more copies.”

Chris also loves digging for odd finds: rare live albums, obscure funk, and soul records. “I once spent $400 in a record store in Austin and only left with four albums. One was by Dyke and the Blazers. He made one record and died of a heroin overdose. You’re not going to find that stuff again.”

As for new vinyl? “I’ll buy reissues if I have to, but the originals just have a story to tell. Someone else owned it, maybe loved it—and now I do.”

Before we wrapped up, I asked when I should come to his show.

“Friday,” he said. “That’s when I can drink. Saturday, I’ve got a first flight out—I try not to get too weird.”

📍 Mark Ridley’s Comedy Castle – Royal Oak

📅 Thursday, Friday & Saturday

🎟️ Tickets: ComedyCastle.com