"Newly famous" comedian Amy Schumer had lots to say during her sold-out stand-up routine Friday night, but there was one point she reiterated several times throughout the evening: Whether it’s her crass comedic stylings, sometimes graceless demeanor or Hollywood’s generally brutal expectations for women, she’s not going to be famous for long.

She could’ve fooled the packed BMO Harris Bradley Center crowd, however. The crazily popular comedian blazed through an hour of hilarious material (not to mention a bottle of wine straight from the bottle) both crude and clever, devilishly incisive and delightfully immature, that only further cemented Schumer’s place as one of the industry’s most entertaining – and possibly essential – voices.

Hitting the stage to the tune of "Milk Milk Lemonade" – a rap song from her Comedy Central show’s latest season about guys’ love of butts despite their first and foremost purpose – Schumer launched into her set, hitting on many of the topics that have erupted her into a comedy force over the past year, namely women and the media, and her own sex life in always candid, often self-depreciating detail.

While some of the bits – touching on Khloe Kardashian’s transformation and a run-in with Bradley Cooper – were extended riffs from her opening "SNL" monologue two months ago, much of Schumer’s Friday night material felt fresh, new and timely. An early run of jokes discussed her recently released photo, taken by legendary photographer Annie Leibovitz for the 2016 Pirelli calendar, and many of her stories about her new life as a famous person – a long way from her Long Island roots, she noted during the show – felt like they couldn’t have been more than a year old.

The past year has made Schumer a star in seemingly record time, and luckily for her, life in the spotlight has given her a plethora of new material too, whether they’re sharp barbs about show business sexism or just crazy stories about goofing around with Katie Couric. 

And yet, for someone sharing tales about battling paparazzi, celebrity travels to Hawaii and pranking famous people with other famous people at a dinner for famous people, Schumer still manages to feel like the realist, most relatable woman in the room. She’s the anti-Gwyneth Paltrow, who Schumer quickly jabbed at in the early going.

Despite her insistence that she’s awkwardly no fun to meet in person, on stage Schumer convinces the entire crowd (and there was a lot of crowd to convince Friday night at the Bradley Center) they’re all her BFFs with her frank and casual openness about all things sex, fame and being a woman – not to mention her burping twice into the microphone, both times earning hearty applause.

Even when Schumer busted out the usual local shout-outs and compliments, they felt a little more thoughtful than the typical, talking about having cheese curds backstage and heading up to The House on the Rock. It wasn’t the usual "Go Packers!" pandering – though she wasn’t above doing that Friday night, earning possibly her biggest ovation in a night filled with it. Every artist tells the crowd that they were their favorite audience; Schumer is charismatic enough – and her material is honest enough – to almost convince you she means it.

While that makes Schumer an enjoyable entertainer, what makes her essential right now is her ever-growing voice. After two seasons of amusing sketch comedy, Schumer and her show really turned into something special this past season as it began to really tackle gender politics in the media, whether it be the epic "12 Angry Men" episode in which a bunch of white dudes debated whether the comedian was hot enough for television or "Last F***able Day," where Schumer and other funny women merrily waved goodbye to being considered attractive while Jack Nicholson is still a viable romantic lead.

She’s holding a mirror to society, and while she may also decorate it with dildo jokes, tidal waves of ejaculate and goofy giant wine glasses, the sharp images she’s reflecting back have rarely been as hilariously and painfully clear and cutting.

Though not quite as bluntly barbed as her show, Schumer’s Friday night routine contained much of that same feminist-tilted cultural commentary. Near the middle of the show, she also dipped into a gun control, a growing public concern of hers since the shooting this past summer during a screening of her film "Trainwreck." It’ll be interesting to see how that evolves into her material; her "SNL" episode featured several skits attacked guns and the nation’s gun-happy policies, so if that’s any sign, she won’t be shy.

As it currently stands in her live show, however, the topic wasn’t on the table for long, and the material about guns felt like a work in progress, the observations less sharp or personal than most. It was funny, but also a forgettable segment of the night.

Perhaps that will grow into a more significant part of the routine with time. Schumer did seem like she was trying stuff out and working out some material Friday night, sometimes distractedly detouring off a story for long periods only to eventually come back – sometimes with the audience’s help in reminding her what the original topic was.

This happened a lot near the backend of the show, which felt particularly scattered, bounding from little story to little story with some interactions with the crowd to fill the space in between (which thankfully kept itself in control, rare for often vocal Milwaukee audiences). If she was testing material out, much of it was funny; it just needs to be worked into the routine.

Maybe next time – and there most certainly will be a next time. Because despite Schumer’s insistence that her fame isn’t going to last, judging by her overall hilarious work last night and the loudly laughing throng of people packed into the arena – not to mention an upcoming movie with America’s other BFF, Jennifer Lawrence – that spotlight’s not going anywhere soon. 

Comedian Mark Normand and a jazz trio led by her Chicago-based musician brother Jason Stein opened for Schumer. While Stein's trio was a close miss – the idea of a jazz band opener was novel and intriguing, but the music often sounded like the three instruments were each playing a different song – the playfully droll Normand set the stage well, scoring strong laughs with seemingly familiar material, like bad dating stories.