Roll of the Dice is a short interview format with a variable amount of questions. A pair of dice is rolled and the total, between 2 and 12, is the amount of questions we can ask. All questions are given to the interviewee(s) at once, and no follow-ups are allowed. The interview may be lightly edited for content and clarity.
Neil Rubenstein exists in a space where hardcore credibility, sharp comedy, and genuine humility overlap in unexpected ways. Whether releasing a comedy album on a label synonymous with bands like Shelter and Sick Of It All, or teaming up with Steve Pedulla of Thursday and legendary Long Island photographer/archivist Michael Dubin for his latest special, Rubenstein consistently sidesteps easy narratives. Intimidating at first glance but disarmingly thoughtful in conversation, he’s built a career on his own terms. We caught up with Neil for a Roll of the Dice interview to talk about challenging perceptions, creative control, and what comes next.
Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview! Congratulations on the continued success of the Have Some Dignity special!
Thanks for including me!
You’re often introduced as a comedian now, but you’re also known as a Long Island hardcore lifer. You’ve played in bands, tour managed bands, and lived backstage for years. Do you still feel like you’re carrying that scene with you on stage? What did hardcore touring teach you about human behavior that comedy audiences might not realize they’re benefiting from?
LIHC Represent! I believe that all our experiences shape us into who we become, even if you’re not paying attention or actively trying to grow/learn. Either philosophically or creatively. Learning how to make art around so many talented people really imprinted on me what it means to be part of a community as well.
As far as the psychology of performing, I guess the thing that jumps out is stage presence. Admiring and studying all these amazing frontpeople, on and off Long Island, really gave me some strong building blocks..
There’s a strong DIY lineage connecting hardcore and stand-up. Do you see comedy as another version of the same infrastructure punk built decades ago?
1000%. I have always approached art from the same POV. It’s all about authenticity. And I’ve always valued community over individualism. I want everyone to have a nice time. And I would gladly risk having an experience I may not enjoy to get to experience it with people who will enjoy it.
Hardcore taught a lot of people how to speak their truth loudly. Comedy asks you to do it alone, under lights. Which feels more vulnerable? Which is more cathartic?
I guess vulnerability is comparable. Comedy might seem like it would be a deeper commitment to it since it’s inherently about vulnerability. But having to scream something you wrote 20 years ago at the top of your lungs seems like quite a vulnerable experience as well.
As for catharsis, on the surface, it might appear the other way. Screaming about it clears the words outta your mouth. But being able to connect with a crowd on that intimate of a level can also be quite cathartic.
Performing on Kill Tony puts you in front of an audience that doesn’t always share the same cultural context as hardcore kids or DIY lifers. Did that environment change how you approached the set?
I think something that growing up punk teaches you to understand is that even in a group of like-minded people, the deviations from the mean can be staggering. And you should be able to convey your messages without needing a chorus of approval. Plus, it’s a cliche for a reason that funny is funny. Make it funny.
Hardcore crowds and comedy crowds react very differently to silence. How has learning to sit in that space changed you as a performer?
That was the first big lesson I learned in comedy — sit in that silence. Learn to love it. Learn how to use it and shape it around you. When I can hear a pin drop, I know that they are hanging on each word. I have bought myself the equity to say the things I really want to say and actually be heard.
The Sweet Boiz tour emphasizes comedy that doesn’t punch down. Do you think that’s a reaction to the current comedy climate or a continuation of punk ethics applied elsewhere?
I sorta missed why stand-up comedy became mean. Homophobia and transphobia has become so fucking hack. And if for that reason alone, I’d like to set a better example. We can talk about marginalized people without jeopardizing how people treat them. Make your gay jokes or whatever, but it doesn’t have to breed hate. I make plenty of jokes about plenty of people and communities. And I can and will say wild shit. But it’s never from a hateful place. And it never needs to be.
…Unless we’re talking about cops or fascism. Then I get real worked up.
If someone comes to the Sweet Boiz tour knowing nothing about your history, what part of you do they leave understanding better?
I honestly just hope they leave having had a nice time. Shit’s tough out there, and if you’re buying a ticket and paying for parking and hiring a sitter and buying drinks, I want you to have a nice time. I want you to leave feeling like it was worth it. If they take a piece of me with them, I honestly am just honored they paid attention.
You released a comedy album on a label whose legacy includes Shelter and Sick Of It All. Your comedy special was directed by the non-comedy world pairing of Steve Pedulla from Thursday alongside longtime Long Island hardcore documentarian Michael Dubin. You come across as intimidating but by all accounts you’re genuinely kind and you’ve built success without leaning on big-name co-signs. Are there any remaining preconceived notions you’re interested in shattering? And what does 2026 look like for Neil Rubenstein?
First off, that’s incredibly flattering. Thank you. But I don’t want credit for something I haven’t earned. I have received some pretty crazy co-signs. I have the most incredible network of people around me, supporting me at every level. I couldn’t be more grateful. It’s really none of my business what people that don’t know me think of me. I just try to be a better person than I was and leave this place better than I made it. I was a bad guy and did and said shitty things. I just wanna do what I can to help other people with similar pasts accept growth and undoctrinate some of our indoctrinations.
Bad Dad (occasionally called Ed) has been on the periphery of the punk and punk-adjacent scene for over twenty years. While many contributors to this site have musical experience and talent, Ed’s musical claim to fame comes from his time in arguably the most punk rock Blockbuster Video district in NJ where he worked alongside members of Blanks 77, Best Hit TV and Brian Fallon. He is more than just an awful father to his 2 daughters, he is also a dreadful husband, a subpar writer, a terrible dresser and has a severe deficiency in all things talent… but hey, at least he’s self-aware, amirite?
Check out the pathetic attempts at photography on his insta at https://www.instagram.com/bad_dad_photography/