Through the crackle and pop of vinyl, the voice is strong and clear. It is young, but unmistakable: Joan Rivers. That voice—and the truths it speaks—are timeless. And the truth is always a little shocking. On “The Next to Last Joan Rivers Album,†Rivers proves that before there were arguments over whether women were funny, she made it clear that women’s lives were funny. Unapologetically, Rivers owned her own experiences as great material. She didn’t have to pick on audience members to get a gasp or gross them out by saying things they didn’t expect from a woman; instead, Rivers delivers a tight set packed full of real life. Within minutes, the listener can actually hear the audience melt into her hands. The women laugh with true freedom: Rivers is saying what they haven’t been able to say, giggling along with her about the absurdities of juggling roles and living up to the expectations of their mothers, their husbands, and their peers. And the men guffaw at this brassy, whip-smart Jewish dame pulling back the curtain. Together, they’re swept up, liberated by a woman saying the truth and everyone finding it funny. Rivers, who clearly considers her audience is as smart as she is, dropping clever asides and subversively referring to her set as “the rally,†leaves the stage as she left the world: to shouts of “Brava!â€