No Fun Intended: Why Isn't Weird Al Funny Anymore?
by Adam Finley

VH-1 recently aired an updated version of Weird Al Yankovic's oft-hilarious "AL-TV," a show that found the parodist/comedian breaking into MTV's airtime during the 1980s with videos, mock interviews and a daredevil rodent by the name of Harvey the Wonder Hamster. This was Weird Al as most of us remember him: fluffy hair, thick glasses, canvas-top Vans and a Hawaiian shirt. He gave the impression that not only was he weird on TV, he was like this all the time.

Nowadays, Yankovic is almost unrecognizable from his former self. The glasses are gone (he got LASIKed in 1998), and the Brillo bouffant that once graced his oversized head has grown into long, wavy locks. He's still wild and crazy, but there are shades of a man who seems to understand that there's no need to mock today's music when its sheer insipidness is obvious to everyone. While it's easy to dismiss Weird Al Yankovic as a childish novelty most of us eventually outgrow, we need him to succeed, because his success reflects the significance of the day's music.

Weird Al's latest release, Poodle Hat, is a commentary on everything not worth thinking about. The album opens with "Couch Potato," a parody of Eminem's hit "Lose Yourself" that stretches the definition of "funny" to mean "listing a bunch of TV shows." The album also includes a riff on eBay sung to the tune of the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way." It is, like every Weird Al album before it, a reflection of popular culture. And while there's trouble and chaos all over the world, the world of pop culture isn't exactly churning out anything noteworthy these days. Al has always described himself as a pop cultural Cuisinart — a person who slices up current mainstream music and entertainment trends and serves them up funny.

This description, however, is an oversimplification. What Weird Al is and always has been is a kind of pop-cultural barometer. He's the flower to music's E.T., thriving or wilting depending on the vitality of the current musical landscape. His greatest achievements have always come when mainstream music was at its peak, which may help to explain why he hasn't done anything memorable in the last 10 years.

In and of itself, Weird Al's career arc may not seem to differ much from that of any other mainstream artist: He broke into the industry, had a few hits and misses and settled into a comfortable niche before starting to fade. The difference is that Weird Al is not a musician in the usual sense; he's a musical parodist. The parodist can skew any song he wants to, but unless the original song has already been ingrained into the populace, whether through mass marketing or sheer hit-making hooks, the chances of a funny version becoming popular are nil. This is why you were more likely to open Mad Magazine and see a satire of "ALF" as opposed to "Small Wonder." Al could have made a modest living as a writer of original funny songs, pumping out quirky tunes for the Dr. Demento set, but his success and longevity as a parodist is tethered to the current musical climate.

Already a staple on Demento's radio show, Weird Al in 1983 released his self-titled debut, which featured two songs that had become classics of the "funny music" underground: a take-off of the Knack's "My Sharona" ("My Bologna") and an ode to mass transit via Queen ("Another One Rides the Bus"), which contained these poignant lyrics: "The window doesn't open, and the fan is broke and my face is turnin' blue/ I haven't been in a crowd like this since I went to see the Who." His glasses were as big as aviator goggles, and his hair was light and springy. Weird Al's jaw was set, his accordion was wailing and he was ready to make us laugh, or at least smile bemusedly as he twisted the lyrics to Toni Basil's "Mickey" to tell the story of Ricky and Lucy Ricardo.

Weird Al's breakout hit came in 1984 on the album In 3-D. Take a monkey-hugging pop star and one near-sighted young man of Yugoslavian/Italian descent, combine their talents, and what you have is "Eat It." Michael Jackson was at the top of his game, and Al, like a small African bird on the back of a majestic rhino, rode this wave as well. Having been Lynwood High School's valedictorian at 16, the irony of him being African in this particular analogy was not lost on him. Though, in theory, the rhino would be African, too.

Every decade has its hitmakers, but by the mid-'80s and the advent of music videos, music had taken on an aesthetic quality that gave such varicolored pop-trash minxes as Cyndi Lauper and Madonna the ability not only to change the musical landscape, but to create a new mode of the conformist individuality that galvanizes the younger generation. It was at the cusp of this kaleidoscopic movement that Weird Al released Dare to Be Stupid. It is quite possibly Weird Al's greatest album (and the one that contains his funniest lyric: "'Cause I'm stranded all alone in the gas station of love/ and I have to use the self-service pumps.") The album contained spoofs of such '80s giants as Huey Lewis and the News, Cyndi Lauper, Madonna and a title track that paid homage to the herky-jerky, keyboard-laden sound of Devo and Mark Mothersbaugh. It was the 1980s and music was big, synthesized and obnoxious. Silly music had always existed, but now it actually seemed necessary.

In many ways pop music is as vibrant now as it was in the '80s, and like in the '80s, it's also equally as vacuous. Dare to be Stupid was Weird Al's best album because spoofing pop music is what he does best. However, Nirvana's rise in popularity provided a contrast many people had taken for granted 20 years ago. People may choose to listen to the likes of Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake, but they know it's as rote and predictable as the stuff that came before it, and the stuff that will follow. Pop music is pop music, but folks are more attuned to its lack of substance than they were two decades ago. Weird Al, by staying with popular music, is parodizing a genre that's already a joke. His parodies no longer seem fresh and silly, but redundant.

Following the critically, musically and commercially disappointing release of Polka Party! in 1987, Al came back with Even Worse, an album that, while certainly not his best, was still better than the one that preceded it. Once again he spoofed the King of Pop, and once again, the song was about eating. If nothing else, Al seemed to be enjoying himself, ranting seductively to some unrequited love that when he's in her presence he doesn't know whether to "study neurosurgery or go to see The Care Bears Movie."

After making UHF (a movie that was either painfully unfunny or a wacky cult classic, depending on your point of view), Weird Al was saved yet again by a fresh and innovative band who graciously allowed him to mock Kurt Cobain's indecipherable singing style. It's easy to imagine that due to the popularity of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," many fans had trouble getting past that opening track and enjoying the rest of Nirvana's multi-platinum Nevermind. The same problem occurred with "Smells Like Nirvana," but only because nothing came after it; parodies of such artists as MC Hammer and New Kids on the Block weren't worth hearing.

While Nirvana has been erroneously credited with revamping a lifeless mainstream, what it really did was draw more people away from it. Both the mainstream, and Weird Al as a mainstream parodist, needed Nirvana. And both Weird Al and mainstream music slipped once Nirvana made its exit. Nirvana shocked those shackled to Top 40 radio into the realization that "popular" rarely means "good," and the admittedly wonderful result was that people in search of good music turned their back on the mainstream and delved into the independent scene.

Over the next 10 years, what can only be described as the post-Nirvana era, Weird Al has released only four albums, with more songs about food and TV. He's leaned on style parodies of such forgettable trends as the mid-1990s swing-band resurgence. Al said himself that Nirvana's breakthrough was also what brought him roaring back, but as mainstream music continues its march of outright banality and more consumers turn to the Internet to discover bands and artists worth listening to, Weird Al is becoming less and less relevant, at least as a parodist.

Weird Al has always chosen to arrange the music for his parodies rather than merely singing over the original music, which is why it was never clear whether you were listening to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" or "Smells Like Nirvana" until the vocals kicked in. His immeasurable talent as a musician has always been overshadowed by his funny lyrics, but the combination of both has yielded some truly funny and original songs. Perhaps an album of nothing but original material would revamp this fading pop cultural figure. His work may have been funnier when we were 10, but a line like "I guess I lost a bit of self-esteem that time that you made it with the whole hockey team" can still induce a few chuckles. With a musical landscape as barren as the one we have now, that's not exactly a bad thing.

E-mail Adam Finley at pumpkinpants@excite.com.