Stand-up comedian and Sarah Silverman Program regular Tig Notaro has a habit of using facial expressions and hand gestures as punch lines, which doesn’t exactly translate on her debut album. Nor does her banter: A bit on an audience member’s nine-year self-defense class drones on too long. But her deadpan delivery — a more extreme version of awkward queen Maria Bamford — and her truly singular material (how she saved the career of forgotten pop diva Taylor Dayne, an impression ?of someone doing an impression) don’t need silly faces to be hilarious.
