Recap Louis C.K. at the State Theatre

Over the past few months, it’s been heartening to watch Louis C.K. succeed with Louie, not only because the FX show is hilarious, but because he’s been at it for so long. After years of doing the stand-up circuit, making late-night appearances, and pouring himself into a beloved-but-failed HBO sitcom, his good fortune feels earned. The New York comedian seemed grateful—in his own curmudgeonly way—for the two well-attended shows he performed at the State Theatre on Friday night. Early in his set he joked about how quickly he could ruin everyone’s night, but he did more than enough to keep the crowd laughing.

In addition to a solid 90-minute set, C.K. also affected a high, tentative voice to provide a pre-show announcement over the loud speaker, going over rules for cell phone use and promoting a few made-up shows on the State’s calendar including Cher’s three New Year’s Eve performances, “one at 2:15, one at 2:17, and the third show has been canceled because Cher died a few minutes ago.” C.K. then introduced opener Todd Glass, who put the early show’s translator for the hearing impaired to good use, suddenly launching into a tirade about how much he hates to sign, how little he gets paid to do it, and how he thinks of nothing but cock. (The signer played along, gesturing emphatically during her “monologue.”)

When C.K. finally took the stage it was to the tune of his show’s theme song, Ian Lloyd’s cover of “Brother Louie,” and not surprisingly, his set leaned on many of the same topics he’s turned into entertaining and uncomfortable TV scenarios. Parenthood is a gold mine for C.K., who occasionally prefaces stories about how much his kids irritate him with a disclaimer that he loves them very much. Still, it does sound like a drag having a 5-year-old holding you back when you could be having fun with your less helpless 8-year-old (or as he told his younger daughter, “Get out of the pool so I can be with my friend who I have shit in common with”). Even better was his reaction to his kids’ whining about the way medicine tastes when they should feel lucky to have it at all: “Most kids die on a rock where they’re eaten by a bear. ‘He’s got the sniffles. Ring the bear bell and put him outside.’”

C.K. has more vitriol for people not related to him, including self-important 20-year-olds and anyone who’s ever honked a car horn. Like many great comedians, he gets away with constant complaints about others by being hardest on himself, something that seems to come easier the older and more out of shape he gets. He imagines the exasperation of the little man in his stomach who turns digested food into new body cells: “There’s no part of you I can make out of doughnuts.” Critically acclaimed cable show or not, C.K. will always be a self-deprecating schlub, but one who consistently brings down the house with lines like “If guys had pussies, they’d be disgusting. We’d keep dice in there, and gas station receipts.”