Issue Date: August 5, 2001

TV's newest "Brady bunch"

Wayne Brady has built a reputation on impersonating other people. The regular on ABC's loopy ad-lib show "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" can mimic the voices of everyone from Louis Armstrong to Whitney Houston. Now the multitalented Brady, 29, hopes to make his own name a household word. He has an R&B CD due next year. And this week, his own "Wayne Brady Show" (ABC, Wednesdays, 8 p.m. ET) premieres, marking the return of the long-absent variety show. Brady describes the ensemble series as "a bit of Flip Wilson, Carol Burnett and me." We recently spoke with the ever-silly Brady:

What makes you laugh?
Not negative, "edgy" humor. The people who have always made me laugh are positive folks like Whoopi Goldberg, Robin Williams, Billy Crystal.

But a variety show? Aren't they passé?
I think people are just ready to laugh. I did not want to [see] another sitcom on the air. I didn't want to play a single dad, living on a houseboat, singing at a nightclub at night.

When did you know you wanted to be an entertainer?
My father bought me a tape recorder. I'd make up radio programs where I was the host. I'd write little plays. They never made sense but always ended in me kissing a girl.

Pretty smart. Is there anyone you cannot impersonate?
Jimmy Stewart.

Anyone can do him!
He's pretty easy, but he just sounds stupid on me, like I have a stuttering problem.

Did you ever get into trouble impersonating anyone?
When I first met my wife, Mandie. I was a big geek. I'd been watching LL Cool J on TV, and he does this thing where he bobs his head and licks his lips all the time. I thought acting like that would make me cool. So I walked up to her and was like "Hey, girl," licking my lips. She thought I was completely stupid. But it all worked out in the end.

Do you have a serious side? What if you were president?
I'd lock up every person who was a jerk to someone else on the road. I'd make road rage a punishable offense.

Who'd play you in the made-for-TV movie about your life?
Of course, I'd want to play me. But it would be embarrassing if I didn't get the part: "You're not Wayne Brady enough to play Wayne Brady."

What would you want to come back as in your next life?
A big, drooling, running-through-the-water, catching-balls-and-Frisbees golden retriever. You get fed, you're always being stroked on your tummy, and someone's always calling you "Baby."