Old, fat Dice isn't worth the price

I was in the 5th grade when my friend Zack let me borrow an Andrew Dice Clay tape and at the time, I laughed my ass off. Looking back, I think it was for two reasons that I was in tears: He swore (a lot) and he talked about female body parts.

I still love a good, crass joke, but when I went down to the State Theatre in Detroit to see Dice perform on Feb. 27, I realized I am no longer a 12-year-old boy and Dice is clearly past his prime, or should I say, climax.

The New York native never lost his accent or his quick tongue, but somewhere in between the mid-'80s and the present he lost his focus and got mixed up with such debacles as "The Brain Smasher" (a movie that you're guaranteed to see on HBO at 3 a.m. a few nights each month), whose only redeeming value is that it starred Teri Hatcher, and "The Adventures of Ford Fairlane," a huge flop.

MARGARET MYERS/Daily Andrew Dice Clay smoked at his State Theater show on Feb. 27, but didn't engage in much more of his trademark bad boy act.

Apparently, Dice tried an image change a few years back and wanted to be called "Andrew Clay" - sans Dice.

It could be said that the man has attempted a renaissance of sorts, complete with the old "Dice" nickname and all new jokes about your mom, your wife and his penis.

The State Theatre is a good place for a Dice show - it's classy, but can quickly be converted into a hedonistic playground for a WRIF-sponsored event. Drew & Mike hyped the performance on their morning radio show all week, so it was no surprise that the sounds of Rush filled my ears and a guy two rows ahead of me yelled, "Biiitch!" at a passing woman.

Buxom waitresses, serving $5 shots to an aggregate of men and women in leather jackets and cheap cologne, were most likely aspiring understudies for Teri Weigel. They smiled as they were greeted with jeers and chants by Dice-wannabes for a few hours in between the time for which the show was billed and the time Dice actually greeted us with his presence - about an hour.

When he finally did take the stage, the place went crazy. I have never seen a comedian received with such a frenzy. This could have been attributed to readiness of the crowd to see at least something after paying $30 a seat, paying $5 a shot and having to sit through a warm-up comedian that was no better than the guys sitting behind me smoking a bowl.

Granted, he was funny at times. His ability to rip apart an audience is beyond anything I've ever seen, including any old Def Comedy Jam that lambastes the one white guy in the front row.

In a recent phone interview, Dice made himself clear that there is no other like him.

"The way I look at it," Clay said. "There are white comedians, black comedians and then you got Dice. And, nothing sends a woman home with a smile on her face better than Dice."

Well, women were laughing. I felt awkward going to this event with a female photographer, as this was the ultimate guys night out in Detroit. The truth is, I saw the photographer crack a laugh a few times.

The act lasted 45 minutes at most and this was the biggest beef I had with the night. It consisted of about 30 minutes of Dice improv, which wasn't bad, but the nearly-packed audience was waiting for a quality Dice punch line followed by the characteristic, "Oh!"

Eventually, Dice pulled out probably his 15th cigarette, lit it and smoked it with his arm behind his head. This marked the beginning of the classic and long-awaited nursery rhymes. But in a moment where the man could have shined, Dice spat out the oldies, one after another, like I was listening to the tape Zack gave me in 5th grade.

After closing with an interesting take on "My Favorite Things," a song from "The Sound of Music," he dropped the microphone and left, just 45 minutes after taking the stage.

People made comments under their breath as they left of the high ticket prices and the sub-par performance.

Dice told me that he's a success because of "the spontaneity of the show. That's the beauty of me."

Friday night it seemed that the crowd was cheated out of something, not only $30 apiece, but the Dice they all knew and loved was an old fat man with few new jokes and little spontaneity.

MARGARET MYERS/Daily The Diceman cometh and then - thankfully - wenteth away.

03-09-98