“Being naturally gifted is something I don’t take for granted,” says Jeremiah Frazier, the Chicago comedian better known by his stage name FrayWay. “But listen, understand that there are some different circumstances in this. This is a different level here.” That level is Chicago comedy, a scene renowned for producing some of America’s most influential comic voices and maintaining standards that separate the merely amusing from the truly exceptional.
The Chicago Comedy Crucible
For Frazier, Chicago’s comedy ecosystem functions as both incubator and proving ground, offering performers invaluable lessons long before they ever step onto a professional stage. “Coming from Chicago, growing up in Chicago, even in the school system in Chicago, you grow up becoming an entertainer,” Frazier explains. “You always had those people, those groups, the roasting groups, the lunchtime, everybody talking about each other. Without even thinking about it, you was getting your chops then.” This natural preparation gives way to formal training in a city where comedy isn’t just entertainment but a cultural institution. Chicago audiences, Frazier notes, carry expectations that performers cannot afford to disappoint. “Chicago has breathed the best comedians in the entire universe,” he declares. “There’s levels of funny. Chicago is that top tier level of funny.” The roster of talent that has emerged from the city reads like a comedy hall of fame: Bernie Mac, Robin Harris, Sherri Shepherd, Deon Cole, Adele Givens, and Corey Holcomb, among others. Each generation builds upon the foundation laid by its predecessors. “It’s all like a generation of navigation,” Frazier says, describing how established comedians pass techniques and wisdom to newcomers. “They’ve done all the hard work, because they had to construct and navigate through a lot of things that us behind them didn’t have to.”
From Theatre to Comedy Stage
Unlike many stand-up comedians, Frazier approached the microphone with formal theatrical training. A graduate of Columbia College with a B.A. in theatre, he brought analytical skills and technical understanding that complemented his natural abilities. “I have the analytical skills. I understand the process. I understand improv and different levels of acting,” he explains. “Maybe other people have not gotten that analytically and theoretically because they haven’t got that training.” His education extended beyond performance to include dialects, theatre history, and technical production elements. Perhaps most importantly, Columbia College taught him humility, forcing him to work backstage before ever taking center stage. “I know how to work everything backstage before I got on the stage,” he recounts. “They made us do lights. They made us do sound. We had to understand the artistry of it, the dynamics of the show.” This comprehensive understanding of theatrical production gave Frazier appreciation for every contributor to a successful performance. “If you don’t have a sound person, you ain’t got nothing,” he notes.
Authenticity as Comedic Currency
For Frazier, effective comedy stems from personal truth. His approach involves transforming real experiences into material that resonates with audiences through shared humanity. “You’re not the only person that’s going through what you’re going through,” he observes. “The reason I believe that a lot of my material works is because it’s factual, it’s true, it’s my experience, it’s happened to me.” This authenticity forms the core of what he calls the “FrayWay” philosophy, a commitment to remaining “unauthentic, unapologetic” in his performance style. The name itself emerged from his previous career as a dean in Chicago Public Schools, where colleagues nicknamed him “Fray.” “All my life I’ve been doing things everybody else way,” he recalls thinking. “We’re gonna start doing it the FrayWay.”
The Danger of Premature Popularity
One of Frazier’s most pointed critiques targets contemporary comedy’s tendency to elevate performers based on social media metrics rather than developed skill. “A lot of people bomb today because people become popular before they become polished,” he argues. “If you got a million followers, they know you can fill the seats. And unfortunately the show just don’t be as what a Chicago crowd would expect it to be.” This inversion of the traditional comedy apprenticeship creates painful situations where underprepared performers face audiences expecting professional quality. “How did he get famous?” Frazier imagines audiences wondering. “So this is what we watch. And it’s a discredit to the artists.” He advocates for the traditional path of developing material in smaller venues before facing larger crowds. “Get all your bombing out in these small lounges with 50 people in there,” he advises, noting that comedy veterans would “go room to room to room” refining their craft.
Beyond Validation
For aspiring comedians, especially those in
Chicago , Frazier counsels independence from external validation. “Don’t ever let somebody tell you what you can’t do,” he states. “Your ideas probably will never match up with the capacity of somebody’s idea for you. People have ideas for you and think you can only go to a certain extent.” He distinguishes between affirmation, which he welcomes, and validation, which he suggests should come from within and from professional success rather than individual approval. “That rent paid every month. That
mortgage paid every month. That validates me,” he says.
A Vision for Comedy’s Future
Looking forward, Frazier hopes to create a new form of sketch comedy television that showcases multifaceted performers like himself. “I would love to have a new form of sketch comedy televised,” he shares. “I wanna build a platform to show the variety of artists more as to what we just want them to be, or see them as in one aspect.” He cites “In Living Color” as inspiration, noting how it revealed Jamie Foxx’s diverse talents beyond stand-up comedy. His concern extends beyond personal ambition to preserving comedy’s artistic integrity. “We’re gonna lose the artistry. We’re gonna lose validity in artistry if we don’t get back to understanding the roots of what real comedy is, what real writing is, what reading is,” he cautions. For
Frazier , comedy represents more than entertainment. It serves as a form of healing, a means of processing life experiences and connecting with others through shared humanity. “It’s a lot of trauma in comedy,” he observes. “If you are outstanding in comedy, you’ve had some trauma in your life. That’s just what it is.” Through his performances and his philosophy, Jeremiah “FrayWay” Frazier embodies Chicago comedy’s distinctive blend of authenticity, craftsmanship, and resilience. In a landscape increasingly driven by metrics over mastery, he stands as both practitioner and preservationist of an art form that demands nothing less than excellence.