“Weird Al” Yankovic: Bigger & Weirder
with Puddles Pity Party
Grand Junction, Colorado • September 2, 2025
by Ian Koss
A quarter century ago, clear across the country, “Weird Al” Yankovic put on one of the most memorable shows of my life, a production so elaborate and yet so precisely executed that I didn’t see anything like it again until I got to witness Wicked on Broadway years later. It’s been a benchmark concert for me ever since, and in all honesty I was anxious about the possibility that I would see an adjusted-for-inflation, less-energetic version of that benchmark.
The well-versed reader knows there was nothing to worry about. Al (as known to friends and journalists averse to sprinkling their reviews with extraneous quote marks) had more than enough energy for the band, the stage, and the crowd gathered at Grand Junction’s Las Colonias Amphitheater on a soft Western Colorado summer evening.
But first! Puddles Pity Party provided entertainment as the daylight waned. Being a six-foot-eight clown in white with a striking baritone voice has been enough to take the act viral several times, but video clips on the screen are not a suitable representation for this powerful figure. Despite being silent outside of his singing, Puddles projects a magnificently melancholy presence, but one that is aware of its deep, deep sadness, and joins you in making light of it.
At least that’s what it felt like when he called up a volunteer from the audience to assist, dressed him up as a tequila bottle, and then had him sit on his knee as he belted out Los Lobos’ “Estoy sentado aquí,” and you didn’t need to understand the lyrics to feel the abject despair. Other highlights include paying tribute to the recently-departed Ozzy with “Crazy Train” and warming up the crowd for upcoming parody antics with “Pumpkin To Talk About” (a seasonal take on a Bonnie Raitt classic) and a medley of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” with a couple of Metallica tunes.
As the sky darkened and the crowd waited, we were treated to a multimedia experience on a large on-stage screen. The use of video and multimedia on stage is nothing new these days, but it made for a surprisingly well-integrated part of the show I saw twenty-five years ago, and it’s clear that Al has used his head start to make for a well-choreographed experience, where the action on the screen blends seamlessly into the somewhat lengthier-than-usual breaks required for extensive costume changes (which are nonetheless done very quickly). Lyrics and associated images are common, as are easter eggs and inside jokes.
Back to the moment in time: As Al is ready to go on, the screen changes to a live feed, broadcasting his march from the dressing room to the stage to the enraptured audience, pausing only to put a cream pie in Puddles’ face as he passes his dressing room. Coming in from the side dressed like a psychedelic toucan, he humbly accepted the crowd’s joyous welcome before declaring the band was contractually obligated to start with an important presentation, launching into the CSNY-flavored corporate-speak of “Mission Statement.”
From there, Al took the audience on a wide-ranging tour of his work, which encompasses outright parody, musical tribute, a couple of polka medleys, and other shows of melodic prestidigitation. There were two drum solos, too intense to describe. Energy domes were worn for “Dare To Be Stupid.” As the concert came to a close with “Amish Paradise,” we saw Al coaxed and hustled off-stage in a cape, in a pitch-perfect James Brown move.
The big guns came out for the encore, which started with an intense medley of accordion and vocal wizardry. I can’t tell you everything that happened in those few minutes, but there was Bach, there was “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” there was konnakol, there was crimping fer all that is holy, culminating in an overwhelming vocal showcase that left everyone else speechless. It was then time to visit a galaxy far away: “The Saga Begins,” which sets the plot of The Phantom Menace and beyond to the music of “American Pie,” saw him joined on stage by the local legion of Stormtroopers, to very dramatic effect. This merged into another Star Wars song, “Yoda,” this one much older and based on the Kinks’ “Lola.”
Having taken all this in, I have to admit that “Weird Al” Yankovic sits at this strange intersection of dad jokes and Gen X sarcasm. It’s clean, wholesome fun, but it does not feel sanitized or otherwise blunted for consumption. Al is extremely adept at skewering the very pop culture that made and supports him, and though his catalog spans four-plus decades and some of the references may fly over the heads of the younger members in the audience, none of it has become irrelevant.
