He has also attracted ample backlash due to the brash, unsparing nature of his comedy. Much the way that Lennon, his granddad’s idol, was castigated for claiming the Beatles were “more popular than Jesus,” Rife courts controversy.
“Let’s see who gets offended,” he says at the outset of “Matthew Steven Rife.”
The fact that many of his fans mistake his Lennon tattoo for Harry Potter attests to the median age of Rife’s audience (he’s 28). There are a lot of women at his shows: “I’m realizing right now I need more guy fans,” he says in “Natural Selection.” With an every-day-in-the-gym physique and cheekbones you could set a drink on, he proudly flaunts his appearance.
“Good looking is not good for comedy,” as he says near the beginning of “Only Fans,” his first comedy special, which arrived in 2021.
Rife has been working toward a stand-up career for more than a decade, getting his start at the green age of 15 at the Funny Bone in Columbus, Ohio, about an hour from the rural town where he grew up. Even then, he was ambitious: He reached out to a comedian he admired, Dane Cook, who invited Rife to visit him in Los Angeles after he graduated from high school. Eventually, Rife began traveling with the Arlington native as an opening act.
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Cook recognized a fellow traveler. Just as the older comedian once built a huge, devoted following on the old MySpace platform, he saw Rife taking full advantage of the newer social networking services. Today, Rife has more than 18 million followers on TikTok and more than 7 million on Instagram.
And like Cook before him, Rife has been grappling with detractors who resent his success. Some can’t get past those high cheekbones. Some seem to be put off by his relentless “dude/bro” language, his “y’alls” and his hip-hop slang — none of which sets him apart, particularly, from his male peers.
Mostly, though, it’s the material that gets him into hot water. The same social media universe that has helped make Rife a star has, of course, become an unruly forum for performative outrage and grievance, and his approach to comedy is set up to stir that pot.
“Everyone wants to complain about every joke ever told,” he protests in “Matthew Steven Rife.” Be that as it may, he welcomes the fight. He’s like an all-star-caliber professional athlete who takes motivation from all those unnamed “haters” and “doubters.”
Rife, who has talked openly about struggling with anxiety and depression, has argued against the practice of combing through a public figure’s social media history looking for incriminating posts. People change, he notes: Look at Malcolm X, who served time for burglary, or Maya Angelou, who was once a sex worker. Or Chance the Rapper, who “used to be good.”
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In his live act, Rife gleefully dances around every third rail. He has developed extended bits involving wheelchair users, trans people, his Black friends, school shooters, and women of all kinds. Women who consult crystals and star signs and Ouija boards are a recurring theme.
After identifying a burly audience member wearing eyeliner as a gay man at the beginning of one of his specials, Rife says, “Thank you for coming out. Twice.”
He’s undeniably fast on his feet when it comes to crowd work, the audience-interaction portion of his shows, abundant clips of which helped propel him to stardom. Fans seem only too eager to share some of their most intimate stories to see how he responds — almost unerringly, with maximum raunch.
In addition to his three recent comedy specials and his fast-growing touring commitments, Rife found time to star in last year’s independent feature film “Don’t Suck.” Written by Western Massachusetts native Rick D’Elia, it’s the story of a veteran comedian who welcomes an up-and-comer to tour with him. The newcomer — Rife — turns out to be a vampire.
After the heady ascent of the past year, it’s perhaps unsurprising that his most recent special resorts to some hackneyed subjects (airline travel — it’s annoying!) and his emergence as a target for the thought police. Like the guy on his tattoo, it seems, he can’t help but feel persecuted.
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“I’m a nice person,” he says. “I never want to hurt anybody’s feelings.”
MATT RIFE
At MGM Music Hall at Fenway. April 19-20, 7 p.m. and 10 p.m.; April 21, 5 p.m. and 8 p.m. $49.50-$115. crossroadspresents.com
James Sullivan can be reached at jamesgsullivan@gmail.com.
