“I am the biggest Weird Al fan, and that’s a fact,” George Gunhouse proclaimed, with irrefutable 8-year-old confidence. Bouncing around in a green and white flowered Hawaiian shirt, with two similarly attired grade school buddies and their Brooklyn dads, he was about to encounter his idol, the accordion-playing pop parodist, in concert at the UBS Arena on Long Island. How was he feeling about it? “Kind of scared,” he allowed, “because this is going to be soooo many people screaming.”
It was true: There were a lot of mega-fans, and like George and his friends, many of them had come with their papas. They were decked out in matching loud button-downs, à la Al, and giddily anticipating the jokes. The 1988 zingers of “Fat” (“Your butt is wide / well, mine is too”) still loomed large: “The video explodes the song,” one dad said. “It’s so funny.”
The pop scene has lately been ruled by women (Beyoncé, Taylor, Billie, Olivia, Rosalía) with a heavy female following — proud girl dads and their thoroughly accessorized tweens included. To catch a wave of fathers and sons in a crowd, follow Weird Al.
The country’s foremost song parodist for nearly a half-century, Al Yankovic has charmed generations, especially those who grew up in his ’80s and ’90s heyday, when he memorably spoofed hits by Michael Jackson (“Beat It” became “Eat It”), Madonna, Coolio and Nirvana.
Now the men of that era, and beyond, are turning out with their boys for his Bigger & Weirder tour, which saw him headline Madison Square Garden for the first time last summer, at age 65. He’ll follow the tour with an orchestra-backed screening of “UHF,” Weird Al’s 1989 cult film, in Los Angeles on Halloween.
“I’m 43, and Al’s been in my life as long as I can remember,” said Matthew Honovic, a Long Islander who came to the recent show there with his 9-year-old son Julian. “My dad played the accordion, so it was a family thing.”
Weird Al has plenty of female fans, of course, and a daughter himself. But was there something about his music — with lyrics like “If I ever meet you, I’ll Ctrl-Alt-Delete you,” from the 1999 rap “It’s All About the Pentiums” — that perhaps appealed specifically to guys? “The juvenile comedy in there, it lasts,” Honovic said. “Al doesn’t age.”
And, said Keith McClelland, who came with his sons Jackson, 17, and Harrison, 14, “it’s all G-rated — no cursing.”
Joe Larkin, 51, a landscape designer and artist in Smithtown, N.Y., brought his sons Evan, 12; Joey, 10; and Ryan, 8. Thanks to repeat viewings of Weird Al’s videos on YouTube, the oldest already knew his sonic high jinks. “We’re introducing him,” Evan said, pointing to his baby brother. “It’s going to be a blast, Ry!”
As with many kids, the brothers liked the parodies even if they weren’t that familiar with the originals. Among this crowd, Weird Al’s “White and Nerdy,” which he performs atop a Segway scooter, likely has more spins than its antecedent, Chamillionaire’s thumping “Ridin’.”
Concertgoers were also young at heart. “This was his idea,” John Hurtnole, 42, said, sitting next to his 73-year-old father and namesake, who grinned mischievously. “I like people to make fun of things,” said the elder John Hurtnole. He wore a T-shirt advertising the Duck Fart, an Alaskan cocktail. “There’s a lot of things to make fun of nowadays.”
Onstage, Weird Al tore through medleys, video clips and costumes: a wide-brimmed black hat for “Amish Paradise,” robes and Storm Troopers for a “Star Wars” finale. Streamers descended on the audience; a 4-year-old named Liam ran through his dad’s legs, doing a crazy polka dance. Behind the sound mixer, Seth Novick, 29, vibed solo with his Al-like curly locks flowing. Weird Al had been seminal to him growing up, he said. “Just his creativity and his acceptance of himself being unusual — it’s really inspirational to me.”
After the show, supporters lined up for a chance to meet the singer. “Close Personal Friend of Al,” several jackets announced. Jacob Isaacson, 10, waited, hoping to get his copy of “Captain Underpants” autographed — Weird Al wrote the theme song to the 2017 movie adaptation of the book — and came prepared with questions: “What does Weird Al like to do in his free time? Has he ever gotten a cease and desist notice?” (The musician takes pains to get permission before lampooning.)
“His music just gets something inside of me that makes me happy and makes me want to hear it over and over again,” Jacob said, as his father, Josh Isaacson, 52, held his hand.
Another pair, Tosin Akinmusuru and his son Xavier, were also having a bonding moment. “I see a lot of myself” in Al, 12-year-old Xavier said. “Being weird.”
His father felt the same. “We don’t get any more mature,” he said, laughing. “We just get bigger.”
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