As the punters for Taco shuffle in for the evening, Aidan Jones is cooly sauntering on stage and chatting to his audience. He has no walk-on music or big entrance, instead opting to stand in the darkened corner of the stage while the Welcome To Country plays. There’s no bells and whistles to what he does - he just lets his story do all the work. And boy is it a good one.
Jones, who for many years embraced the geographically insensitive nickname of “Taco” (imposed on him as a teen), has since abandoned this name in favour of a new identity - himself.
A seemingly simple evolution for many, the comic has had the added hurdles of growing up Columbian-Australian in Adelaide (where people assumed he was Mexican, or maybe Greek) and not meeting his biological father until 2019 (his 22-year-old mum returned from backpacking in South America to discover she was pregnant). He also loves the man that did help raise him, which further complicated meeting his birth-parent.
At every point in Jones’ life where it seems he may be able to get a handle on who he is, the universe graciously offers a curveball. But whatever it serves up, the stand-up will forever tackle life with a cheeky grin and a positive outlook.
While in some ways Jones presents himself as the prototypical blokey stand-up, his delivery cleverly belies that schtick with some refreshingly vulnerable and expository material. What would otherwise be a jarring juxtaposition, these two components meld together perfectly thanks to Jones’ laidback demeanour. He may punctuate every other sentence with an unnecessary swear word for good measure, but in this case, it works. It’s the perfect encapsulation of the many facets of who he is: and he champions his mosaic of a personality with startling joy.
Taco is at its strongest when Jones lets his guard down and gives his crowd a peek into the more sensitive aspects of his journey to self. It’s a piece that is peppered with warmth and hilarious openness, and an exciting glimpse into where the comic may turn next.
