YANKOVIC, “WEIRD AL”

Parodist, Accordionist, Great Perm

I have great respect for guys who not only stay in their lane, but also keep rolling strikes. Weird Al is kinda like that. I’m not limiting him; I’m trying to say he has carved out a very successful niche for himself in the worlds of comedy and music. The look’s mostly the same (save the missing mustache and glasses from the ’80s days), the parodies keep coming, and then he puts out an album in 2014 that becomes the first comedy album to hit #1 on the Billboard charts since the 1960s. Then he wins a Grammy for it. (He has four, and he’s been nominated countless times over the years.) That’s somebody who’s built a brand and maintained it with care. I find it especially funny that he’s outlasted some of the artists he’s parodied. I’m looking at you: Gerardo, Tiffany, and El DeBarge.

He’s also incredibly nice. We were once both Grammy-nominated the same year, and at the ceremony, he told me, “I swear, I want you to win. I’ve already won.” Nobody ever says that. He’s also one of those funny guys who exudes sweetness and isn’t secretly tortured inside, and believe me, he’s been through some heavy stuff. One thing that always stuck with me was something you may not be aware of.

This man has suffered real tragedy. In 2004, his parents were found dead in their home, the victims of accidental carbon monoxide poisoning from their fireplace. Several hours after his wife notified him of his parents’ death, Yankovic went on with his concert in Appleton, Wisconsin, saying that “since my music had helped many of my fans through tough times, maybe it would work for me as well” and that it would “at least … give me a break from sobbing all the time.”

Some of you may know that I, too, took to the stage very soon after my father’s passing for the very same reason. A lot of comics probably look at him with a sense that what he’s doing is in some specialized corner that isn’t really connected to them, but when I think about the time and effort it takes to pick the right songs to parody, then get the permission from the artist—he doesn’t have to under “fair use” laws, but he does, to maintain good relationships in the music world—and then find the right tone in riffing on it, I think he’s got to be one of the smartest entertainers out there. His family Christmas cards are so classically silly and yet somehow heartfelt that they put the easiest smile on my face (i.e., an oversized photo of his dog looking at a tiny snow globe with the Yankovics floating around merrily. C’mon, you fucking cynics, admit it—that’s adorable!).

Maybe I feel a kinship with him because our humor involves what celebrities do—in his case, their art; and in my case, their behavioral patterns. When a Michael Jackson or a Madonna claims they find the parody funny—Lady Gaga called it a “rite of passage” to be spoofed by Weird Al when he did “Perform This Way”—it’s probably as gratifying for him as when the people I make fun of turn out to be good sports about it. To me, comedy needs the Weird Als to help us all remember that everyone needs to lighten up. I use profanity, he uses polka, but we’re in the same racket.