Review: "Weird Al" Yankovic at Bon Secours Wellness Arena
A week after running around playing baseball in the rain, sliding in the mud with the reckless abandon of my 8-year-old past self, I found myself in Greenville, S.C., for a Weird Al concert. Was this another sign of a deepening midlife crisis — an attempt to rekindle the simple joys vacuumed away by decades of adulthood? Most likely.
About an hour before showtime, that quest for nostalgia-induced euphoria hit its first snag. I could photograph the performance, including opener Puddles Pity Party, but the venue's strict camera policy would require me to spend the majority of the night separated from my wife, escorted by a staffer, with no guarantee I'd see more than three songs of each set. As much as it had been a longtime dream to document a performance by the king of musical parody, I left the camera behind to experience every second of my long-anticipated first Weird Al show alongside my beautiful, unpretentious life partner, assuring myself that it was the choice Yankovic would have wanted me to make.
I came into Puddles Pity Party with high expectations, and the mopey 6'8" clown with the operatic voice pretty instantly exceeded them. His commanding stage presence, vocal range, and excellent use of video and audience interaction made a strong case for him as one of the more singular performers out there. He treated fans to covers of Tom Waits' "Come On Up To The House," Queen's "Under Pressure," and "Stairway to Gilligan's Island" — a bizarre Led Zeppelin/Gilligan's Island mashup originally performed by Little Roger and the Goosebumps. At various moments, video clips of Kevin Costner in Waterworld and Dances with Wolves played behind him, and judging by the reactions, the crowd was fully in on the joke.
The peak of his set was a rousing cover of Ozzy Osbourne’s "Crazy Train," for which he invited a young girl onstage to "play guitar." As the Pagliacci-inspired performer belted out the words and the child strummed along, a montage played behind them — beginning with a cake being cut in the most infuriating way imaginable, it escalated into pure nightmare fuel for anyone with even a mild form of OCD. An anti-ASMR fever dream of crimes against sanity, it drew audible cringes from the entire arena. Puddles proved the perfect opener: preparing the crowd for the insanity ahead while offering something completely different from the headliner.
Following a video introduction, Weird Al's set kicked off with "Tacky," a parody of Pharrell's inescapable "Happy." The band was onstage, but Yankovic was nowhere among them — revealed instead on the big screen, parading the backstage halls, interacting with security, and smashing a cake onto Puddles' face. When he finally entered the arena floor and worked his way through the crowd toward the stage, the room erupted. It was a grand entrance that set the tone for the evening.
A few songs in, Yankovic demonstrated his contemporary relevance with "Polkamania!" — his 2024 medley running through modern pop hits including Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy," Adele's "Hello," Luis Fonsi’s "Despacito," and Cardi B's "WAP." Proof, if any were needed, that Yankovic can still polkafy anything.
The band then dug deeper into the catalog, starting with the 1996 They Might Be Giants soundalike "Everything You Know Is Wrong," followed by "One More Minute" — a doo-wop original from his 1984 masterpiece Dare To Be Stupid, which he introduced as "one for the ladies."
A video montage kept attendees entertained during the first of several major costume changes. The band re-emerged dressed to match the "Smells Like Nirvana" video — backup singers in cheerleader outfits, a custodian casually pushing a mop; and when Yankovic grabbed a glass of water mid-song to nail the gargled vocals, the crowd ate it up. The ensemble followed with "Dare To Be Stupid," Al and the group in full DEVO regalia for the 1985 style parody. That album was the first cassette tape I ever owned, worn thin in my Walkman during a time when you couldn't just summon any song ever recorded. The nostalgia high was approaching critical mass.
Yankovic and company then packed a career's worth of songs into one triumphant medley: "Party in the CIA / It's All About the Pentiums / Bedrock Anthem / My Bologna / Ricky / Ode to a Superhero / I Love Rocky Road / Eat It / Like a Surgeon / Word Crimes / Canadian Idiot."
In what could have been a grand finale, Yankovic left the stage — only to return in his "Fat" suit for the career-defining Michael Jackson parody. I won't pretend I hadn't been anxiously awaiting it. What followed, including a faithful cover of David Bowie's "Suffragette City," couldn't quite match that high, but it built nicely toward the back-to-back crowd-pleasers "White & Nerdy" and "Amish Paradise." For the former, Yankovic rolled out on a Segway, and he donned his Amish costume for the latter.
The encore brought Stormtroopers and Jedis flooding the stage for "The Saga Begins" — a parody that tests my absolute disdain for "American Pie." Fortunately, Yankovic closed the night out right with a vastly superior Star Wars homage — and The Kinks’ parody — “Yoda.”
Few entertainers have aged as gracefully as Weird Al Yankovic. He's maintained cultural relevance in a genre where almost no one else has had even fleeting success, and done so for decades without scandal. He may never receive the reverence afforded Dylan or Coltrane, but he's as singular an icon as either of them. I'm glad I've shed enough of my art-snobby 20s and 30s self to fully embrace the absurdity again.
