Andrew Dice Clay: ‘Nobody came to my aid other than Eddie Murphy’
The voice on the other end of the phone does not sound like him, but once he gets going, there he is.
The biggest, brashest, most-offensive mouth from America’s ’90s, can still sound like Andrew Dice Clay. When he wants to.
Since the early ’90s, I have wondered if the Andrew Dice Clay I heard on those filthy comedy albums was actually who he is, or is he just doing another bit.
I assumed I would never have the chance to ask, until a few days ago when he called me back to promote his scheduled appearance at the Plano House of Comedy on Sept. 23; the show will be at Gilley’s South Side Music Hall in Dallas.
“I got about 10 minutes,” he told me.
Fifty-two minutes later, I had my answer: There is a difference between the Andrew Dice Clay just chatting on the phone, and the Andrew Dice Clay who sold all of those records, packed all of those arenas and offended so many.
But they are unapologetically one in the same, and while he doesn’t say it directly, he does want you to know there is a difference.
Dice is 62, and he sounds like he’s in a good place with girlfriend, and his life. Whatever you think — or thought — of Dice, and his persona, he was a transformative performer and a marker for an entire era.
And now he’s back where he began. On stage. Doing clubs.
“My first headlining job was the Comedy Corner in Dallas,” Dice said. “It was two weeks. It was $900 a week, which I could not believe. It was monopoly money. I had about $4,000 in the bank and my mother said to take care of it. I told her I was going to blow it all because I’m going to be the biggest comic ever.”
He did. He also has the scars to prove it.
Once he was comfortable, he has no problem talking about all of it.
Mac Engel: Has Andrew Dice Clay caught COVID yet?
Andrew Dice Clay: No. I’ve been playing it safe. I’m really not going out. I’m doing what I can. I love to exercise. I bike all the time. I’m never going to retire. I love trying to entertain people through all of this, mostly through Instagram and Cameo.
ME: Johnny Carson once said he stayed away from politics because he didn’t think audiences wanted to hear it; as a comic, is there any way to avoid it?
ADC: I don’t talk about it because you can’t win. I’m one of the smart ones. I learned that when I was about 5 to avoid the subject. I had a smart mother. She said three things, “Never talk politics. Never talk religion. Never bad mouth Frank Sinatra.”
ME: Your act has changed? What do you draw on now for laughs?
ADC: It’s nothing I think about. I just go on stage and try to make people laugh. It’s my brand, as they say. Like him or not, Louis CK would say, “Watching Dice is watching a great jazz artist.” As far as what I do, I’ll do the classic stuff, like the Mother Goose stuff.
Who knew that bit would become so integrated with audiences? I certainly don’t mind doing them. It’s a signature piece. I really never know what I’m going to do. I’ve never been afraid of a bit not working.
I came up to silence. Myself and [the late] Sam Kinison would be the last two acts of the night at The Comedy Story, and there might be five people there, and two of them are passed out drunk. I don’t care if a room is quiet.
If a room goes quiet, I personally find that funny. When I was doing the big arenas, I’d do something and you’d get 18,000 not laughing. To me that’s funny.
ME: At end of one of your popular albums, you close a show where people had left and you said, “I didn’t mean that.” I had this thought that you wanted people to know that the person on stage is different from you, and that you want people to like you.
ADC: No. You’re talking about the album, ”The Day Laughter Died..” We did it at Dangerfield’s in Manhattan. I did it over three nights, and the first two there was maybe 20 people and half of them walked out on me. I had no written material.
I wanted to do it in front of people who didn’t know me, or like me. I was told it was going to ruin my career. No one had done a double album before. That album went gold in four days.
I don’t ever remember listening to that album. I like doing the work, and then I’m done with it. I’ve had so many people talk to me about that album and they love it, and that’s what I care about.
ME: Would you want to be a comic starting out today?
ADC: It was bad then. Today, comics are going to jail; they can’t curse on stage. I don’t hold back. I was the only one going through that 32 years ago. Nobody came to my aid other than Eddie Murphy and Richard Pryor. Eddie would talk to me about it. He said, “Don’t back up. ____ everybody. Don’t give in.”
The Jay Lenos, he would call Arsenio Hall and told him not to have me on his show. Before I made it, Jay and I came up together. And then they just all turned their backs on me. They were so jealous.
Today, young comics help each other now. When I came up, they were no good. I was just attacked and attacked; the bigger I got, the more I was attacked.
When I was banned from MTV, I would go from one show to selling out two shows in every city.
The only reason I stopped doing all of those shows, I could not do it any more. It was five years. I was getting too heavy, and my body could no longer do it, The late nights — it was too much.
ME: What’s different now?
ADC: Well, 32 years ago when every journalist in the country was shooting at me there was no way to fight back. They kept shooting at me. It was so _____ up. Now, as they say, I came through this storm and now I can be myself and let my guard down.
I can do the interviews and shows, like “The View” or “The Talk” and I can be Andrew and not be defensive and “Dicey.” I don’t have to be that guy on stage.
Back then, I would spend time with the journalists, but they would only write about the act. But that doesn’t sell magazines.
You know, I wasn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict. I liked to smoke a little weed, but I was never in that other world. I was just doing something nobody else had ever done. I wasn’t injecting myself with heroine or cocaine. How many have we lost from alcohol or drugs?
I was living in the house with a bunch of other comics right above The Comedy Store. I’d get up in the morning and there would be a pile of cocaine on the dining room table.
ME: Did you feel burned?
ADC: By some journalists, yeah. Back then, I’d do these big interviews and just be myself. The journalist would spend all of this time with me, but then they’d just write about the act. They’d never write about who I really was at that time.
They saw I might have this Brooklyn accent, but that it was nothing like on stage. I wanted to create an image for the comic, for the people of the time and the world that was. It was all attitude. It was material that fit the time.
I never knew there would be such a backlash. Eddie Murphy didn’t have that backlash. Neither did Richard Pryor. It was just things that people thought but didn’t say.
There was a big backlash, but what do I care? I’m the one they’re writing about.
My dad and I were in New Orleans and I was doing the Sun Dome. My dad says, “You’re making $750,000 tonight but your career is over.” It just bothered me that journalists didn’t feel responsible enough to write the truth. I don’t care if you hate the act, but just tell the truth.
ME: Was it all worth it?
ADC: I don’t really regret it. There are some areas that are really tough. I went through some bad marriages. But if you have a regular job, parts of that stink, too. I tell my sons, “At least I am doing what I really love. That’s the key to it.” Nothing gets easy no matter what.
I’ve lived 10 lives and people would love to live any one of those lives. I never got jaded if I met some big star. I get as excited today when I meet them, like when I worked with Kate Blanchett for Blue Jasmine.
It was great; I was sitting in Wayne Newton’s house and I’m thinking, “What am I doing here?” I was hanging with Frank Sinatra and he’s talking to me about what I’m going through. We were at some Italian restaurant in Vegas. He’s talking to me about becoming a phenomenon.
Or when Sly Stallone is at my house in the backyard flipping burgers. I’m like, “Why is he here?” I’d get calls from Robert DeNiro. I couldn’t believe it.
ME: Is it true your inspiration for your on stage persona was Jerry Lewis?
ADC: It’s really Elvis Presley. I know Jerry used to say I was Buddy Love on acid. The truth is I loved (the movie) The Nutty Professor, and I could see why he’d compare Dice to Buddy Love [character from the movie]. The movie was inspiring.
When I saw the Elvis comeback in ‘68, I told my mom the next day that’s what I am going to be. I made her buy me a black motorcycle jacket and it was about three sizes too big. I was 12. I didn’t care.
ME: Is it true you beat out Robert DeNiro and Ray Liotta for your part in A Star is Born?
ADC: No. There were other people considered but those are the greatest actors in the world. When it comes to acting, I like to say I’m capable. Bradley [Cooper] just really wanted me for that role. That’s how I got it.
ME: Is it true you really stopped smoking?
ADC: Yeah. I stopped, and then when my parents died I picked it up after 10 years. Now it’s been three years. As I’m talking to you I’m holding an unlit cigarette. I buy packs. I chew on them and spit them out. You don’t wean off them. I’m looking at a pack of 100 Marlboro lights in the seat next to me.
ME: You sound like you are in a good place.
ADC: I really am. I got a girlfriend, who is from Dallas, who I just love. I call her Sugar Plum. Don’t worry, though. For those comin’ to the show they’re not going to hear me say Sugar Plum. They’re going to get Dice.
This story was originally published September 21, 2020 at 5:00 AM.
