1. Richard Pryor
As is the case with all great artists, Richard Pryor went through an evolution in his life and work: He survived a disturbing childhood whose scary and colorful personalities shaped the basis of his early act; worked through a clean-cut Cosby phase; found cocaine and eventually burst out of a staid Vegas lounge act, fleeing to San Francisco and becoming the outspoken, unfettered spirit that turned stand-up on its ear. At his acme, which was caught on tape in specials including Live in Concert and Live on the Sunset Strip, Pryor was untouchable. Slipping effortlessly from puerile to provocative, the comic might confess to shooting the tires on his car as an act of spousal revenge, widen his lens to consider police brutality before talking about what's it like to, you know, get a monkey's penis in your ear. Swaggering and vulnerable, boastful and confessional, superheroic and all-too-ordinary, Pryor put everything he was on display. Even his darkest moments, including a heart attack and self-immolation that followed a freebasing binge ("When you're on fire and running down the street, people will get out of your way"), were fodder for his high-wire comedy. His personal life was a mess; onstage, however, he was fluid, versatile and hypnotic. If Carlin is the brain and conscience of comedy, Pryor is its guts and heart, and it's unlikely the man referred to as the "Picasso of our profession" – by no less than Jerry Seinfeld – will ever be topped.