Put away the irony.  Clear a drawer for the ’80s kitschy nostalgia.  “Weird” Al Yankovic must be taken seriously.  Sure, he might have spent his life . . . penning popular-song parodies, but he is by no means a novelty. Consider the facts:  His career has outlasted almost every artist he’s ever parodied, he’s had his own movie and television show– both of which were criminally underrated– and he’s earned six platinum albums and three Grammy Awards.  And, soon Yankovic will add to the list a children’s book published by HarperCollins, a new album, and an appearance at All Tomorrow’s Parties at the request of God Speed You Black Emperor. In the words of his character, George Newman, in Yankovic’s brilliantly bizarre movie, UHF:  “This means something.  This is important.”

I feel like I’ve been waiting twenty-eight years for this interview.

Me too.

Many entertainers talk about how comedy and music are intimately connected, and it seems like few people have put that connection to as much use as you have. What are your feelings on the two and how they are related?

*CLICK TO LISTEN* It’s a delicate relationship. It’s kind of a balancing act, because I think a lot of musicians would like to be thought of as having a sense of humor, but they don’t want to be considered a joke. They’re careful to walk that tightrope between funny and quirky, because a lot of people in the music industry would not like to be considered a novelty act. I think, by definition, I am a novelty act. And even I don’t like that title—it is kind of a reductive, dismissive title for comedy and music. Even though comedy in music is a novelty, it carries a bad connotation. But, I embrace the fact that I mix comedy and music. I think artists are sometimes a little scared of that relationship between comedy and music, and they run screaming from it because they frankly don’t want to be considered a joke.

It’s funny you talk about being a novelty act because your career has outlived almost everyone you’ve ever parodied.

*CLICK TO LISTEN*That, my friend, is the irony of my life. Nobody wanted to sign me way back when because they thought, “Oh, parodies, novelty music, yeah, you’re going to have one hit at best and then we’ll never hear from you again.” Meanwhile, thirty years down the road I’m still kickin’.

One part of your career that often gets overlooked is the incredible accuracy of your parodies. The song I always think of is “Beverly Hillbillies,” where that guitar tone is just dead on. [“Beverly Hillbillies” is a parody of Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing”]

Well, interesting that you should pick that song. If you didn’t know it already, that guitar playing is by Mark Knopfler himself. He decided he wanted to play guitar on that parody, so we let him. So, obviously that’s going to sound pretty authentic.

But not just that one—you seem to have the ability to recreate the tones of the songs you parody to an incredibly exact degree.

*CLICK TO LISTEN* Thanks.  I have to give full credit to my band and the amazing people that I work with. I’ve been with the same guys since the early-’80s, and they know the drill. They know that we’re trying to just really nail those sounds and those parts. They take things apart. You know, my guitar player will be there with headphones doing the third-channel elimination, trying to focus on certain frequencies so he can just pick out those subtlest nuances in a guitar line. Some of these songs are pretty dense. There’s a lot of stuff on them, but they’re able to deconstruct it, and pull it apart and recreate it so well, it sometimes blows my mind. I feel very fortunate that I’m able to work with what I consider to be the best band in the world.

Another thing that gets overlooked is the fact that you’ve had to master every style and trend in popular music for the last thirty years. Did you have a favorite period during that time, or was there a particular style that you especially liked to parody?

*CLICK TO LISTEN* I like the fact that I can be that eclectic and jump from one style to the next on a dime. That’s kind of what gets me off, the fact that we can go from gangsta rap to Zydeco music to alternative grunge—it’s all on the same album. That’s what I really enjoy. My personal tastes probably run more toward indie and alternative rock, things like that, but I really enjoy it all. Anything that I play live or that I put on the album, I’ll tell you right now, it’s not a song that I dislike. I wouldn’t pick a song that I couldn’t stand playing, or recording or spending time around. That would just be tortuous to me.

Most musicians when they’re just starting out have to deal with some embarrassment, bad shows, taking their lumps, the whole thing. I would imagine with a parody musician, there would be some especially hard knocks. Do you remember any particularly bad shows?

*CLICK TO LISTEN* Well, the one that really stands out is my most traumatic experience—it was covered pretty well on Behind the Music—but it was my 1982 concert at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium when I opened for Missing Persons. And this is before I had a record deal—I had a few minor hits on the Dr. Demento show, but this is before “Eat It,” before I had an album out, I was sort of this guy that had a few songs on the Demento show. I thought, “Missing Persons, that’ll be fun. I like their music, and I’m sure their audience will be cool and would be receptive of a guy that does funny songs on his accordion.” I was very wrong. [laughs] We got pelted for forty-five minutes. I’m not exaggerating. I mean pelted. They weren’t even applauding at the end of the songs. It was just nothing but boos and, “Get off the stage,” and people throwing things for forty-five minutes, and we stayed on the entire time because we were getting paid to stay on stage for forty-five minutes.

Really? You played the whole thing?

Yeah, and the funny things is, now, over the last twenty-eight years, people have been coming up to me and saying, “Oh, I was at that Missing Persons show.” And I say, “Oh, really? What did you throw?”

I think my favorite song of yours is “Dare to Be Stupid,” because it is an original song, and one of your best. How did you write that one?

I mean, obviously it’s meant to sound like Devo, and I’m a huge fan of the group, so I probably listened to Devo albums for a couple of days and tried to pinpoint all of their little artistic idiosyncrasies and everything about their style that made them who they are. I tried to incorporate those little quirks into my own original song and kind of put it all together. “Dare to be stupid” was a line in my notebook, among a lot of other song ideas that I had, and I looked at that and thought, “Well, that sounds like some kind of Devo-esque anthem.” Off that, I just riffed on a bunch of stupid one-liner ideas and put the song together.

You said on your blog that you plan on recording three more songs for the new album after this current tour ends, and then you’ll release it. Do you know what those songs are going to be?

Well, I’ve got ideas for two of them. Whether or not I get clearance is one thing, but it’s very nebulous right now. I can’t really speak to it. I’m certainly putting effort into making sure the album comes out as soon as possible. I have some ideas floating out there but nothing definitive yet.

You also wrote a movie for Cartoon Network that was just about to go into production, but then they had some sort of shakeup and no longer do movies, right?

Right, it went into “turnaround,” as they say.

Can you say what the movie is about or what will happen to it?

Not really. We want to keep it kind of quiet until it actually gets close to being made. I kind of regret even talking about it as much as I did before it went to production because, you know, it didn’t go into production. But, I was excited about it, and I wanted to share it with my fans. That’s the thing about Twitter – I’m drawn to it, and you feel a compulsion to share things with your fans that maybe you shouldn’t. I find myself guilty of that.

Would you ever do a TV show again?

*CLICK TO LISTEN* Yeah, I’d consider it. I’m not actually pitching a “Weird” Al TV show right now, but I wouldn’t rule it out, and if somebody came to me with the right idea, I wouldn’t rule that out either. But, it’s not like I’m dying to be on a TV show. In the last ten years, I’ve been pitched a dozen different TV shows from major players that would’ve been able to get it on the air, but all those ideas were, frankly, pretty horrible – they were all reality shows where I would be, you know, helping a team to write song parodies, and there would be another team and it would be very Survivor-like, and it was just wrong and stupid on so many levels, I can’t even tell you. But, it would’ve gotten on the air if I said yes.

What about your children’s book, When I Grow Up?

That is happening, and that is something that I’m very happy with. That will be out, I believe, on March 1 of next year with Harper Collins. I don’t have any other ideas at the moment, but I had a great experience, and I look forward to having a long relationship with Harper Collins and do some more children’s books for them. That was just something that seemed like a nice little detour from what I normally do, and I like to try to stretch myself creatively and sometimes do things that people don’t expect me to do.

Did you generate that idea?

I did. I pitched them on several ideas, and that was the one that they liked, and I went ahead and did it.

Is it autobiographical at all? The title would lead one to think so.

Well, only in the most overreaching broad sense, I suppose. It is sort of what the name would imply – it’s about a kid with an overactive imagination just kind of riffing on the cool and amazing things he could possibly be when he grows up.

God Speed You Black Emperor just asked you to open for them. How did that come about?

Sort of out of the blue. I put it out there for many years that I’ve always wanted to play the UK and play in Europe. We just haven’t been able to make the math work out, because it’s a very expensive proposition for us to take the show overseas. There are a lot of costumes, there are computer servers – it’s just a lot of stuff to fly. Between that show and the show the next night in London, we would be making enough that we would at least break even. So, at that point, I said, “Okay, let’s do this.” We have now a confirmed European tour, even though the tour, as of right now, is only two days. Hopefully we’ll add some more, but I can’t guarantee anything.

Do you have a following in Europe? Do you know how your albums sell there?

I can’t speak to sales. I know that I have a lot of fans from the UK because a lot of them follow me on Twitter, and some of them have gone so far as to take the plane flight to the U.S. to see some of my U.S. shows. I know there’s a big fan base there, I think through my presence on the Internet perhaps more than actual record sales. I don’t know what it’s like these days, but the last time I was in the UK, it was hard to find my stuff actually in physical record stores. But, through portals like YouTube and various other places, people have come to know my work.

GSYBE also asked you to play their installation of All Tomorrow’s Parties. ATP is a great festival, but it’s also kind of an elitist hipster festival, and if you asked me what is the diametric opposite of hipster elitism, I would say it is you.

[laughs] Well, I think having me at that festival is very ironic, and irony is very hipster-ish, so I think it all fits in.

Good point. Will you do anything special there, or do you do the same show everywhere?

Pretty much a normal show, although I may have to talk to some of my British friends and see if there are any American pop culture references that just wouldn’t fly over there. There might be references or songs that they just wouldn’t be able to relate to, so I may have to tamper with it a little bit, but overall, I think it’s going to be basically the same show.

The last thing I want to ask you is this: If you were traveling through outer space, and you were going real fast, like the speed of light, and you started screaming, would your brain blow up? [Note: To grasp the subtlety of the question, it is necessary to know that Michael Richards’ character, Stanley Spadowski, says this to George Newman in UHF]

I would imagine so.

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Essential album: Dare to Be Stupid | Essential movie: UHF

Video [the best of UHF]:

In 1969, Albert Mazibuko had the same rights as dirt.

As a black man under apartheid in South Africa, he couldn’t vote, couldn’t marry outside of his race, couldn’t even travel without official permission.

Sometime that year, Mazibuko’s cousin, Joseph Shabalala, asked him to sing in his group, Ladysmith Black Mambazo.  The group borrowed heavily from a style of soft a capella singing called isicathamiya (is-cot-a-ME-Ya), which was born in the mines of South Africa.

Now, nearly 40 years later, LBM’s trajectory has often mirrored that of their native country – from the hopeless depths of apartheid to a freedom sometimes marred by violence.

On January 15, 2008 LBM released “Illembe:  Honoring Shaka Zulu,” the latest in a prolific career that has included more than 50 albums, two Grammy Awards and performances for the Queen of England and Pope John Paul II.

It is a career that has been defined by music as escape – whether from apartheid-era police or personal tragedy (Shabalala’s wife was shot and killed in 2002; his brother, former LBM member Headman, was also shot and killed in 2004; and another brother and former member, Jockey, died in 2006).  To be fair, the group has also seen its share of music as celebration – in 1994, LBM sang at Nelson Mandela’s inauguration after the first democratic elections in South African history.

The group might have remained a South African treasure if not for its appearance on Paul Simon’s groundbreaking album, “Graceland.”  That album, and the subsequent tour, brought LBM worldwide recognition and appearances on “Saturday Night Live” and the cover of Rolling Stone.

Thriller caught up with Mazibuko, one of two remaining original LBM members (along with Shabalala), to discuss “Illembe,” his career and the hardest part of being a musician under apartheid.

You lived a lot of your life in South Africa under apartheid.  What was that like, especially as a musician?

*click to listen*It was very challenging.  It was very difficult, that time.  The difficult part, it was the traveling, because when we started to be famous in South Africa, we had some invitations to come play in other towns.  As a black person at that time, you had to have permission to travel for that particular city or town.  So every time when we travel, we got ourselves into trouble with the police.  They were always stopping us and asking where we were going and if we had permission.

You know what happened?  I don’t know how it happened, but it happened all the time – when they would stop us, Joseph would just start a song and then we sang for them.  Every time they let us go.  They said, “This is great.”  It was amazing.  And then we laugh at ourselves, “Why do we do this all the time?”  But it was the only way we could answer these questions they were asking us.  So it worked all the time until we were advised that we should get permission.  We were the first group to get traveling permission in South Africa.  I don’t know what happened with it after our independence, I think maybe we lost it.

How do you feel South Africa has adjusted to independence?

I think we are very fortunate in South Africa, because South African people are able to sit down and put aside their differences.  We don’t have all this kind of separation, so our country is very free.  I think it’s just that we were lucky that we had somebody like Nelson Mandela, because he is the one who put all people together.  When he came out from jail, everybody was saying, “Ok, these people are oppressing us, so let’s fight them or chaste them.”  But he said, “No, let’s forgive one another and embrace one another,” and they had a truth commission so everyone could tell what’s done and then apologize and forgive everything.  It was put behind everyone.

What did it mean to you to sing at Mandela’s inauguration?

That was wonderful.  I remember joking, I said, “Wow, how come we’re here in this place?  If someone could wake up from the dead now, they’d say what are all these people doing here?”  It was a great experience.

The way I first heard of you, and I think the way a lot of Americans were introduced to your music, was through Paul Simon’s “Graceland” album.  What was that experience like, and what is your feeling about it more than 20 years later?

I’ll never forget that because that was a great achievement for the group.  I remember the first time we met Paul Simon in England in the studio.  Before that, he met our leader Joseph Shabalala and after that he (Paul Simon) sent a demo to us.  He was singing by himself only two lines (from “Homeless”):  “Homeless, homeless / The moonlight sleeping on the midnight lake,” and he was playing a piano.  He said, “Don’t change this because I took it from one of your records I was listening to, and you can add any words.”  And so we began the song in Zulu lyrics.

When we went to the studio to record the song, it was so challenging.  We tried to record the song, but we couldn’t.  It didn’t work, until the sun set and then Paul Simon said, “Ok, let’s call it a day and go back to our hotel.”  When we were in our hotel, we had dinner and after that we pray, and we had the song because we recorded an idea of what Paul Simon was looking for.  And the next day when we got into the studio, we told Paul Simon, “We have been rehearsing.  Do you want to listen to this, what we have been rehearsing?”  And we just sang for him and he said, “This is it.”  And then the song was done in two hours.

I wanted to ask about a sound that is in a lot of your songs, and I’m curious if it has any meaning to it.  A lot of times in the middle of a song, someone will make a “Brrrrrru” sound (starting low in the register and going up in a glissando).

Those are the trademark of Ladysmith Black Mambazo.  In fact, that one we took from the farm.  There is a particular ox, it has a long horn, so in order for you to be able to put the yoke on top of that animal, you have to talk to that animal.  In the language we use, the word means “Just bend down.”

And then, the other one, we say “AH-shah.”  That one, it was done by my grandfather when he was doing the gumboot dance.  My grandfather was a gumboot dancer, so every time he did it, he used to say those exclamations.

Isicathamiya seems to have come from very similar conditions that American blues music came from, but the result is calm and peaceful and very different.  Why do you think that is?

I think the connection might be because these kinds of music, as you say American blues and this kind of music, have been born in a working place.  I think when people are working, they have the same mood.  They want some music that’s going to maybe soothe them or empower them.  Because isicathamiya music, it was born in the mines when the people were away from home.  So, on the weekends they would try to entertain themselves.  I think that’s why it is so elated.   I notice that a lot even myself, so I conclude that it is the music of taking away that loneliness when the people are away from home.

“Illembe” starts with “O Mmu Beno Mmu” – a very striking song.

This is a very important song.  This is a song that, in fact, we are talking about the people who are powerful.  But we didn’t want to mention any names because it refers to everyone.  It means that any people who have power, if they come together, they can achieve great things.  But most of the time, which is sad, when people have power, each and every one wants to go separate ways.  But if they come together and do things together, they will achieve so much.

I notice the repetition of musical phrases in many of your songs.  For instance, on “Illembe” in “Kuyafundw’ Osizini (Illembe),” you sing the same five-note phrase for almost three and a half minutes as Joseph sings verses over it.  Does the repetition signify anything?

It’s just the rhythm.  Most of that, when we repeat the same thing, it’s because we want to get the rhythm down, because our singing is not complete until you are able to dance on that song.  So, after we’ve chosen the words, we repeat them and put the rhythm on it, and then we can dance on that or do whatever we want to do with that, and Joseph can go and tell the story between the rhythm.

So the words determine how the dances will go?

Not the words, but the rhythm.  The words always tell the story.

The group has always had a sense of preserving the Zulu history and traditions, and this album is dedicated to Shaka Zulu, the 18^th century leader.  Where does that connection with history come from and what does it mean for the group?

It means encouragement and inspiration for the group because Shaka Zulu is always encouraging us.  We were told by our fathers that he is a courageous man, a man who believes in perfection and that whatever you do, you should be the best.  This album, we are trying to encourage people, especially the young people who always have some excuses when they don’t achieve something.  They say, “Maybe my background is not right,” but Shaka, he achieved so much.  We say there is no excuse.  Just believe in yourself, and do what you do and do it right.

In 1987, you had an album called “Shaka Zulu.”  Is there a reason why this one figure has had such a big role in your music?

It’s because the name Shaka, it’s a name that reminds us that there is someone who achieved things, so why can’t we do better than that?

How do you write and work out your songs?  Are there instruments involved in the writing?

No, no instruments involved.  You know, it’s so simple when Joseph writes the music – after he writes the song, he comes with the song to the group and he just sings the song.  When he sings the song, it is our tradition that everyone knows what parts they can sing, and we just sing the song from there.  And he will listen to it and say, “Ok, maybe if you can sing it this way or you can sing it that way,” and we discuss the song and decide what we can put out or what we can leave in.  So, then we can just check the story and see if it makes sense or not.

Is it hard to keep the rhythm and the pitch of the songs going with no other instruments to guide them?

It’s challenging.  I cannot say it’s hard because we believe that there’s nothing hard.  But it’s always a challenge.  It’s very challenging just to tell the story exactly and then get the rhythm and melody and everything in order, so you need to practice just to get it right.

So it just comes from years of doing it?

Oh yes, absolutely.

There seems to have been quite a bit of tragedy, with some violent deaths in the group recently.  Does the music to help you deal with it?

*click to listen*Yeah, yeah, we need to keep playing the music.  I remember when his brother was murdered, we were so shaken.  But, we talked among ourselves.  We said, “This guy, he liked the music, so he would like to see us carry on singing.”  And I remember at his memorial service, we sang a song that was just recorded and wasn’t even released.  That song was saying that the devil has been conquered.  By singing those kinds of songs, we found we became stronger because we are preaching peace, so let’s live peace.  Let’s forgive the other people and then carry on with our singing.

I tried to count how many albums you have and I think I got to something like 50.

It’s more than 50 now.  I lost count (laughs), but it’s more than 50.

What drives you to make a new one?

It’s because we always see the challenges around us and it needs to be told.  And we can see that people need encouragement and inspiration, something that’s going to keep them going.  So that brings the music all the time.

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Buy this album now:  ”Shaka Zulu”

VIDEO:

Brazil’s military dictatorship doesn’t like him much.  He is outspokenly leftist, which generally doesn’t go over well with dictatorships.  But the country’s socialist left wing doesn’t like him much either because he integrates non-nationalist influences like rock ‘n’ roll into his music.  So, Veloso goes into exile in London.

Forty odd years go by, as they have a way of doing, and Veloso changes from young revolutionary to elder statesman, revered around the world and in Brazil as one of the country’s most important musicians.  In the interim, Veloso helped redefine Brazilian music and, to an extent, rock music, influencing a new generation of songwriters, including one David Byrne.

Although his relationship to the press is famously rocky, he agreed to answer a few questions about just how this all happened.

I’ve seen the 2007 album “Ce” described as your attempt to make a rock album.  Do you think that’s true?  If so, what drove you to do 
that?

Rock was the mot scandalous aspect of tropicalismo 
in the 1960s.  And I never gave up the subject. It’s 
present in most albums I made in four decades. “Cê,” 
like “Transa,” which I recorded in 1971, is a band 
album. Some of the compositions have more of a rock 
aspect, some could be in a Jobinian album with 
strings, some could be in a Bahian percussion based 
album.  But all are performed by the same basic rock 
band.

Would your work have been the same and would you have been as successful if the Brazillian government had accepted it in those early years?

Do you imply that some of the success my music met 
is due to the fact that the military dictatorship in 
Brazil didn’t accept it?  Not even this is true.  The 
government then didn’t react against the songs.  None 
were forbidden.  The left-wing students and journalists were a lot more willing to censor our stuff than the 
authorities.  Still the latter didn’t understand how 
it could be that we were for those leftists who booed 
us and found the combination of long hair, electric instruments, strange lyrics and our presence in the 
anti-dictatorship demonstrations too hard to 
understand.  Then they put us in jail. But of course my 
work would never have been the very same if my life had been 
different.

How did your exile in London change you and your music?  What new influences were you exposed to?

The strongest influence that British music had on 
us happened before we were forced to leave Brazil: The 
Beatles.  Once in London, I longed for Brazilian life 
and music.  But I saw lots of things, from Led Zeppelin 
to Incredible String Band.  The two things that 
impressed me the most were the Rolling Stones onstage 
and seeing Jimi Hendrix live.

Why do you think Tropicalia was considered so dangerous by those in power?  How did you deal with the backlash to it?

Because it had all the characteristics of the 
counter-culture.  It also had some scent of new left. 
As I have already said, the traditional left reacted 
negatively. The Plastic People of the Universe, in 
Czechoslovakia, faced an equally strong reaction from 
the communist government.  As for me, when I was 
imprisoned and exiled I got depressed.

You’re known for fusing rhythms together and even for bringing back old traditional rhythms that aren’t used anymore.  Are there new rhythms to be found still?

I don’t think I fuse anything.  I don’t like 
fusions.  I rather propose contrasting juxtapositions. 
Rhythms are all old as life.

Do you think the physical nature of a country affects the kind of music
that it produces?  For instance, I feel bossa nova could have only come from a place with an ocean and the tropical landscape of Brazil.

Geography counts. But I see bossa nova as something 
that could only happen in an American tropical country 
that spoke Portuguese.  And there is only one country 
like that.

As an American, I had never heard anything like the chords and progressions in Brazilian music.  Where do you think that unique way of structuring songs and playing the guitar came from?

I think it all comes from João Gilberto.  From the 
way he heard Brazilian pop tradition, beginning with 
the 1930s masters, and from the way he heard the then 
ultra new cool jazz from the USA.  It has to reveal a 
different thing when a genius hears Chet Baker singing and thinks of Herivelto Martins’ compositions.

Who are your vocal influences?  When you sing in your low range, it reminds me a lot of someone like Joao Gilberto, but when you go into your high register, I hear more rock n’ roll, like maybe Roy Orbison or something.

João Gilberto, no doubt.  And rock’n'roll, but not 
Orbison.  Mostly  Beatles.  Ray Charles. But there are always echoes of Portuguese fado singer Amália 
Rodrigues.

You’ve made so much music, what keeps you inspired at this point?

The complexity of life.  The difficulty of music. 
My irresponsibility.

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VIDEO: