Portly comedian Gabriel Iglesias continues to evolve as his audiences continue to grow

You may recognize comedian Gabriel Iglesias by name, but you may also know him as Fluffy, a moniker that’s best explained by the title of his 2009 stand-up special: “I’m Not Fat…I’m Fluffy.”

Iglesias, who performs at the INB Performing Arts Center tonight, is best known for his affable, conversational comedy style, and his last stand-up special, “Aloha Fluffy,” features one narrative after another. Iglesias recalls discovering that he’s one of the most popular comedians in the Middle East, recounts his experiences working on the hit film “Magic Mike” and gleefully details an elaborate prank he pulled on his stepson.

His material has the feel of a friend telling you an amusing barroom story rather than a comedian performing a well-honed bit. Iglesias’ routines consist primarily of anecdotes about his friends and family – his girlfriend, his teenage stepson, his mother – and that personal approach to comedy sometimes gets him into hot water.

“I don’t really talk to my siblings anymore,” Iglesias jokes. “But anything I did say onstage, it was exactly how I felt. I’ve put stories up there that didn’t go over too well with certain people, but you live and you learn. … I know my son has his issues with certain things I talk about. If he were to say there are certain things he doesn’t want me to say, I’d respect that. But if he stays quiet, hey, man, it’s open season.”

Iglesias has been a working comedian for years – his first stand-up special aired on Comedy Central in 2003 – and he’s recently become one of the most popular touring comics around. He also is a regular on the ABC sitcom “Cristela,” and he had a minor hit with his stand-up feature “The Fluffy Movie” last year. As he’s gotten older and his audience expands, Iglesias says his approach to comedy has matured.

“If you keep doing the same thing, the crowd is eventually going to outgrow you,” he said. “You have to grow with the crowd. In my first special, it was very much a show based on voices and characters and sound effects. There wasn’t as much substance as there is now. I’m not a 24-year-old guy now; I’m coming up on 40. Now I have a kid. I feel like I’m on the radar and more people are watching.”

Iglesias has been playing large theaters and arenas for several years, but he says he goes back to comedy clubs any chance he can get. There’s a huge difference between performing for thousands of people versus dozens, he says, and the smaller venues allow him to hone new jokes.

“I can’t get used to playing these big venues and that’s it,” he said. “I have to get back into the comedy clubs. In the big venues, you can’t go out there and test material on people. They’re paying top dollar, you have to give them the best possible show you can. In a comedy club, it’s anywhere from 150 to 300 people. You can say, ‘I just retired my last special. People ask how I come up with new stuff, and you’re about to see.’ Some of the stuff’s gonna fly, some of it’s not gonna fly, and they’re all for it.

“In a comedy club, it’s bare bones. … I like the fact that at a comedy club I can go off the cuff. I can talk about anything and everything. I can take questions from the crowd. You can’t do that in a big venue.”

It’s those big venues, though, that keep Iglesias going: He calls it a “rock star lifestyle,” rolling through city after city in a tour bus with his comedian friends.

“You walk out onstage and it’s like WWE,” Iglesias said. “Having thousands of people cheering and chanting – it’s an unreal feeling. And then asking the crowd, ‘You guys want me to keep going?’ And it’s like…” He imitates a crowd roaring. “…You get goosebumps; it’s pretty great. The hardest thing is turning it off. When you get offstage and you’re in a quiet room in the back, and it’s like, ‘Man, a second ago I had half the city cheering for me, and now I’m here just looking at this deli tray.’”