I first met Al when I was 11 years old.
Al was certainly an odd sort of fellow. A tall, lanky gentleman sporting a huge shock of curly hair, glasses and a mustache, Al and I first crossed paths in the summer of 1984. While listening to the radio, I came across Al, touting the benefits of proper eating habits.
I got to know Al a little better that summer. A master of the accordion, Al had a great fondness (bordering on obsession) for food, television and polka music. He also had the uncanny ability to drive my parents crazy. Which meant that “Weird Al” Yankovic, and his album “In 3-D,” was in constant rotation on my record player.
Not long after, I came across his eponymous debut LP, and I snatched it up and played it often enough to learn all the songs by heart … and to drive my parents even more crazy.
In those days, it wasn’t easy to keep up with your favorite artists. With no Internet to keep me up-to-date on all things Al, my only recourse was to ride my bike to the local mall and check the “Upcoming Releases” list at the record store (anyone remember Sound Odyssey?) in hopes of finding Yankovic’s name. My patience would pay off with “Dare to be Stupid,” featuring the masterpiece parody “Yoda” (I was also a massive Star Wars fan).
Though I got older and became interested in more “mature” pursuits, I remained a fan of the goofy-looking guy. I continued buying his albums (though I switched over to cassette tape with his 1988 album “Even Worse”). And when Yankovic made his motion picture debut in the epic feature film “UHF,” I was there in the theater. In fact, I actually took a young lady to see the movie on a first date. Fortunately, she was smart enough to find a guy who had better things to do in life than sit in front of MTV waiting to record the latest “Weird Al” videos, but to this day, I can say to her “We don’t need no stinkin’ badgers!” and she knows what I’m talking about.
My love of all things Al became much more low-key during my college years. After all, it’s hard to compete with fraternity brothers and keg parties with pickup lines like “Wanna come back to my dorm room and listen to the new ‘Weird Al’?”
But once I was out into the real world, I was again free to listen to my “Weird Al” CDs and sit in front of MTV waiting to record the latest “Weird Al” videos.
When CDs eventually gave way to MP3s, Yankovic’s catalog of music was among the first that I made sure I had. And the “Weird Al” mix tape and mix CD became the ever-changing “Weird Al” playlist on my iPod.
Though the years progressed, my love for music that my parents had often called “juvenile” and “silly” never did. In fact, it helped me get through one of the toughest times in my adult life.
For about a year or so in the early 2000s, I was trapped in a job I truly despised. Not only were conditions awful, but the nighttime schedule wreaked havoc with my relationship with my wife (who I rarely saw) and my year-old daughter. Through much of my employment, I struggled with a fairly serious case of depression.
I found myself turning to my “Weird Al” playlist more and more often during my 45-minute commutes to and from work. The humor and fun of Yankovic’s songs helped me face the hell that the upcoming 8.5 hours would unleash on me, and it let me unwind and smile a little bit after many a miserable night at the office.
I worked my way through that … and as my daughter and I both got older, we shared the fun of Yankovic’s music. He was the perfect bridge into more, dare I say, “mature” music after several years of Disney/kiddie music she listened to. Her first concert, at age 7, was “Weird Al.” Three years later, she’s looking forward to her third “Weird Al” concert.
I had the chance to meet Yankovic and have my picture taken with him following a show at the Keswick Theatre in Glenside a few years ago. Though much of the 30-second-long meeting remains a blur, I do remember telling him that to me, meeting him was akin to meeting Paul McCartney or John Lennon. And prior to his performance last year at the Keswick, I had the opportunity for a 15-minute one-on-one interview with Yankovic. After he graciously answered all my questions, I did something I’ve only ever done once in my career — I broke the veneer of the unbiased journalist and turned into a drooling, 12-year-old fanboy. But it was worth it. After all, how often do you get the chance to tell someone how important they’ve been to you, how much of a positive effect they’ve had on you throughout your life, how much happiness they’ve brought you?
I’ll have a chance to see Al again on May 20, when he comes to the Keswick Theatre. I’ll throw on my White and Nerdy T-shirt, grab the wife and kids, and head down for the fourth time I’ve seen him perform live. Much like the last three times, I expect to see a thoroughly enjoyable multimedia show, complete with video clips, costume changes and maybe even a stormtrooper or two. And much like the last three times, I expect to be singing along to every word. And when his latest CD, “Alpocalypse,” is released on June 21, I will be among the first in line (or online) to purchase the new tunes.
Because I am a devoted fan. I am an Al-coholic … a Yankovite … a Close, Personal Friend of Al. I am “Fat,” and I am “White and Nerdy,” and I am proud of it.
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