There are many nuances, influences, concepts and innovations at play in the creative and oft-sublime comedy of Tape Face. But, certainly, the most important thing to know about the New Zealand-born, London-based artist is this:

Does he have an endorsement deal with a tape manufacturer?

After all, the millions of folks who've seen and laughed at his distinctive work know he's called Tape Face for a reason. His act — an inspired seduction utilizing a fusion of music, mime, clown, improv and prop comedy — is centered around a vow of silence self-enforced by the strip of black tape worn across his mouth, which guarantees that everything happening onstage will go off without any verbal communications from the star of the show.

"I don't have an endorsement deal, actually, though I'd like very much to," says Tape Face — real name Sam Wills. He's calling from London just before jetting to the U.S. to start a tour that kicks off tonight in the Garde Arts Center. "My favorite brand is Nashua 357 gaffers tape, made by Berry Plastics. It's the only brand I use. I did actually send them a cheeky line about what I do and sort of said, 'Are you interested...?' I didn't get an endorsement deal, but they did send me a box with 20 rolls, so that was nice."

Tape Face came to fame in the States in 2016 when he made the finals on season 11 of "America's Got Talent," but he's been a headliner in Britain and Europe for over a decade. His shows are utterly unpredictable and are centered around a variety of situational set-ups. Tape Face has an ever-present bag of props and an iPod with precisely queued "musical punchlines" of familiar, mostly '80s and '90s pop and rock. The spectrum of gags and skits is so wide-ranging and imaginative that's it's counterproductive to describe a few of them for fear of pigeonholing his work. In addition to the tape and his lithe, acrobat's build, he sports exaggerated eye makeup — as if the Cure's Robert Smith and Marcel Marceau traded cosmetic tips — striped jerseys and a black blazer, and gelled post-punk hair.

In conversation, Tape Face speaks in a pleasing Kiwi accent, delivering comments at Gatling gun speed, as though releasing pent-up observations theretofore held in check by, well, tape. Here are some of his remarks, edited for space.

On a journalist's perception that there's a decided insecure, underdog quality to the Tape Face stage persona:

That's definitely by design. There's no way to communicate conventionally, so there's an implied sense of trust because I can't yell or speak in an aggressive tone. Some comics walk onstage and immediately take on the front row, so to speak. I can't do that, so I've lowered expectations in that regard. The audience instinctively thinks that I'm working with a main method of communication taken away, so there's sympathy there. On the other hand, I can't say anything, but I'm also the only one who knows what's gonna happen.

Similarly, tucked away on the Tape Face website, is a suggestion to those who might attend one of his performances. It says, "The less you know, the better." On what he means by that and, in the context of his escalating fame, whether it's realistic to even suggest something like that:

To a degree, a lot of people do have an idea because of "America's Got Talent." They laugh, but there's also the thought that, "Well, how can you do a whole show?" There's the assumption that, because they've seen one gag, that's what the entire show will be. The thing is, in Europe and the UK, I've been doing this 12 years. A performance is 75 minutes long, and what happens varies greatly. Believe me. So I think it's fair to say expect nothing and enjoy everything.

Unlike bands or musicians, whose concerts rely on performing familiar material, comedians face a different dynamic. Once a joke has been done, the punchline and set-up lose the element of surprise. At the same time, fans of comedy nonetheless go to shows hoping to see favorite gags. On whether Tape Face feels an obligation to revisit established jokes:

I don't mind a certain degree of doing bits the audience might want to see. I don't do full-on karaoke, but I appreciate that someone comes to see you because they saw a bit that made them laugh. I myself have gone to see bands hoping to see favorite songs, and they'll say, 'Oh, we don't do any of that stuff anymore.' Well, that's not what I wanted. Plus, I'll take an established bit and twist it a bit, too. I can play with stuff because of the props and volunteers in ways that maybe the standup comic can't.

Speaking of established Tape Face gags, his routine based on Tom Petty's song "Free Fallin'" is pretty great. When Petty died, a lot of touring musicians did Petty songs live as acts of reverence. On whether Tape Face has done his "Free Fallin'" piece in homage:

I hadn't actually thought of that. The funny thing about doing that on ("America's Got Talent") is that we didn't have clearance to do the song. We thought we did, and we filmed it, and the (network licensing people) came back and said, 'We can't do it.' We tried to come up with alternatives, and it just wouldn't work. And then Simon (Cowell) got in touch with Tom, because he has those connections, and sent Tom the bit, and Tom said sure. He thought it was funny. That made me so happy.

On whether Tape Face was directly inspired by silent film comics like Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton:

I didn't actually watch a lot of silent film comedy until I got started. And not Charlie so much, but I'm a huge Buster Keaton fan. His eyes conveyed so much. No facial expressions at all, and he'd just have the audience with those eyes. And if you watch, he's the underdog that never wins. At the end of the movie, he's still the underdog, and there's a melancholy quality to that. Charlie started as the underdog, but there was a progression, and at the end, he'd win or get the girl. Not Buster.

Tape Face, 7:30 tonight, Garde Arts Center, 325 State St., New London;  $29-$30; (860) 444-7373, gardearts.org.