Know what’s music to our ears? Dad jokes. Specifically, the groans and guffaws (but mostly groans) we hear when we tell them.

So we ask you, what better reason do we have to compile a melodious (or is it odorous?) batch of kid-friendly silly jokes and funny puns about music for dads to tell?

We hope these musical dad jokes strike a chord near your funny bone. In fact, we consider this compilation of dad-worthy humor a high note for us. If they don’t fall flat with you, please sing the praises of our music dad jokes to others.

Best/worst music puns and dad jokes

Q. Why is a piano so hard to open?
A. Because the keys are on the inside.

Q. Why do fluorescent lights hum?
A. Because they forgot the words.

Q. What did the boy band that plays classical music name itself?
A. The Bach Street Boys.

Q. Why did the cow start taking singing lessons?
A. Because she wanted to be a moo-sician.

+ + +

Many people told Beethoven that he would never be a musician because he was deaf, but did he listen?

+ + +

Q. Why do fish make good musicians?
A. They know their scales.

Q. What’s big and grey with horns?
A. A rhinoceros marching band.

Q. What did the Spanish musician say after they left the sound booth?
A. Audios.

Q. What is a rabbit‘s favorite kind of music?
A. Hip-hop.

+ + +

Can you believe that my neighbor rang my doorbell at 3 a.m.? Luckily, I was still up playing the drums.

+ + +

Q. What do you call a musician with problems?
A. A trebled man.

Q. Why were the musicians arrested by the highway patrol?
A. Because they started a massive jam on the interstate.

Q. Which of Santa’s elves is the best singer?
A. Elfis Presley.

Q. What did the robbers take from the music store?
A. The lute.

+ + +

I just learned that the drummer from my old band had triplets. They’re all girls. He calls them Anna One, Anna Two, Anna Three.

+ + +

Q. How do you make a bandstand?
A. Take away their chairs.

Q. Why do bagpipers walk while they play?
A. To get away from that awful noise.

Q. What do you get if you cross a sweet potato and a jazz musician?
A. A yam session.

Q. What is Mozart doing these days?
A. Decomposing.

+ + +

When I was young I wanted to play the guitar really badly. After years of lessons and practice, I can honestly say I play the guitar really badly.

+ + +

Q. Why was the dad repeatedly banging the side of his head on the piano?
A. He was playing by ear.

Q. What has 60 feet and sings in harmony?
A. A school choir.

Q. Why did the opera singer become a pirate?
A. Because she wanted to hit the high Cs.

Q. What kind of band doesn’t play music?
A. A rubber band.

+ + +

Today my daughter asked for a 14-piece drumkit and I said no. She called me the cheapest dad in the world, but I’m not buying it.

+ + +

Q. Who is a grain farmer’s favorite musical artist?
A. Hall & Oates.

Q. What is Beethoven’s favorite fruit?
A. Ba-na-na-naaaaa.

Q. What is the difference between a drummer and a savings bond?
A. One will mature and make money.

Q. How do you fix a broken brass instrument?
A. With a tuba glue.

+ + +

I tried to make my online password “drumset” but the website rejected it. The error message said the password cannot contain cymbals.

+ + +

Q. What’s a golfer’s favorite type of music?
A. Swing!

Q. How can you tell if a bad singer is at your door?
A. They can’t find the key and don’t know when to come in.

Q. What’s an avocado’s favorite music?
A. Guac ‘n’ roll.

Q. Why was music coming from the printer?
A. The paper was jamming.

+ + +

Accordion to one study, people don’t notice when you replace any given word with the name of a musical instrument. However, I don’t believe that tuba true.

+ + +

Q. What is the most musical part of your body?
A. Your nose because you can blow and pick it.

Q. Which composer really liked to drink tea?
A. Chai-kovsky.

Q. Where do pianists go to take a tropical vacation?
A. The Florida Keys.

Child: I’m learning this new Baroque piece and it’s really hard.
Dad: Well, maybe you should fix it!

+ + +

I strained a finger today playing the piano. But on the other hand, I’m fine.

+ + +

Q. What do most people say after hearing too many music dad jokes?
A. “These jokes are so bad, I can’t Handel them.”

Music dad jokes photo by Alena Darmel via Pexels.

When it comes to music, I am a fairly avid metalhead. I am a drummer and skilled air guitarist. I even rocked a mullet with pride through my teen years and well into college. As hard rock is in my blood I assumed, like other genetic traits, my headbanging passion would be passed on to my children. 

When my wife and I found out we were having our first baby, I was thrilled with the notion of educating my child, girl or boy, in the artistry of classic “dad rock” legends like Eric Clapton, Neil Peart, and Pete Townsend. One of the greatest gifts I received as a father-to-be, was a set of CDs that set classic rock songs to lullaby music. While I find something somewhat insidious about playing “Stairway to Heaven” set to the chimes of a lullaby for your sleepy infant, I was secure knowing it was the right thing to do. To complete this induction, after my first daughter was born, I went out and got the perfect complementary clothing: a Rush onesie. I think at one point we had a Black Sabbath outfit, too. All to pass on my love for this music to my daughter. 

Well, have you ever seen the movie This is 40? In one scene, the father (played by Paul Rudd) tries to “enhance” his daughters’ musical education. Dismissing the pop-style tween music that seems to dominate the music scene these days, he tries to introduce them to Alice in Chains. The early Alice in Chains. Steeped in brooding lyrics and heavy guitars. Specifically a song about a man trying to get home from the Vietnam War. That’s some hard-core dad rock. A tough sell for most people much less young girls. In his frustration, he comments crudely on how he wishes just one of them was a boy. 

I have two daughters now. I couldn’t have ever anticipated it, but there is something unbelievably sweet about having girls that I don’t find myself yearning for a boy as many dads do. A boy who would want to rock out would be fantastic, though. … (sigh)

A Rush to dad rock heaven

A good friend and fellow dad and I used to make an annual pilgrimage to see at least one Rush concert a year when they were touring. He has a son a few years older than my daughter and this kid loves Rush. He has his favorite songs, sings along, the whole deal. When we used to go to see Rush, we’d see many dads with their sons and daughters. It was a wholesome show of great music, lasers and video. Completely family-friendly. It has been a dream of mine to someday take my daughters, when they are old enough to enjoy it, to a concert of one of my favorite bands from my youth. Of course, I fear the advancing ages of those bands may prevent it, but my bigger fear is that they simply won’t want to go. 

When my eldest daughter was around 18 months, I would play many of my favorite songs for her and dance around the living room to try and get her excited by it. She would placate me for a few minutes before exclaiming, “Daddy, I don’t like this sound.  Turn it off.” Every time, deflated, I would capitulate. I would tell myself, ”Well, Rush (or whatever band it was) is an acquired taste. Progressive and grunge is a tough sell. I should start with Journey or The Eagles. You know, old-school dad rock.”

Two years later, I have not had much luck. Not for a lack of trying, though.

It’s got a backbeat you can’t lose it

I came home from work last week to find my eldest daughter, now almost 4, and my wife bouncing around the apartment, elated to be singing “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepson. My daughter had an enormous grin on her face, laughing so hard she could barely sing and dance. “Again mommy,” she screamed over and over again. 

She now sings the song herself on command for anyone who will listen. A tiny little piece of me cringes on the inside every time I hear it. Yes, it’s adorable and she is so full of life when she sings it and I love to hear her do it, but a part of me cringes. Every time. 

The other day, my youngest daughter (9 months old) was in a teething crying fit that I could not resolve. My wife and other daughter were out. I fired up some random tunes to try and soothe her. 

The raw heavy guitars of Blue Oyster Cult came on.

And, to my complete surprise, she just stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at me and smiled. 

I sang the song to her and she laughed. This went on for a good 20 minutes. Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll indeed. 

It never ceases to amaze me the personalities that our kids have from birth. My girls are still quite young and I won’t ever give up on their musical education. In the end they both have a deep love for music. Whether its Pink Floyd or Taylor Swift, I suppose it’s that deep love of music that I need for them. If they love their music as much as I love mine, I guess I did OK.

This article originally ran in 2013, and has been since updated. Dad rock photo by Alena Darmel via Pexels.

The pandemic first impacted most of us when many restaurants and bars closed to indoor dining one year ago. Where I live, that shutdown occurred the day after my wife and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary at a local restaurant. We remember eating that night and thinking, “There’s no way they’ll shut down this restaurant.” We all know what happened next: a full year of pandemic family life.

When I reflect on the past year, I start with gratitude. My wife and I have remained healthy and employed, and my two daughters have been able to continue school virtually with few problems.

But after that, I join the majority of families tired of living the underscheduled life. When someone asked me recently what my family did for the weekend, I thought it was a joke. Given the extremely cold winter and ongoing shutdowns, the answer has defaulted to “takeout and TV.” Or sometimes, “TV and takeout.”

On the way to pick up all that takeout with my teen daughter, however, we have started to bond over an unlikely source: music. Thanks to satellite radio, we take turns switching channels but also decades while sharing songs. She shares her pop favorites from the 2010s and ’20s. I share my favorites from the 1980s and ’90s. Granted, we don’t always love each other’s time travel. But let’s face it: since the rise of rock and roll (among other genres) in the 1950s, parents and children have been closer in their musical tastes than previous generations.

How do I know? When I accidentally turn on stations that play music from the 1940s and ’50s, I have a visceral reaction. It’s as if my father’s music and mine are from two different galaxies while my daughter’s and mine are from nearby planets.

Sharing songs, stories bring families together

Sometimes, however, celestial confusion reigns. For example, one day “Give a Little Bit” by Supertramp came on the radio. My daughter, who did not see that I had put on one of my “old” stations, declared “this group must have remade the Goo Goo Dolls’ song!”

I had to laugh. I explained that Supertramp made the song in 1977 and the Goo Goo Dolls remade it in 2004. (I’m the youngest of six, so my childhood music stretched back into the 1970s.) But the mention of the Goo Goo Dolls reminded me of a story that upped my “cool quotient” with my daughter and tightened our musical bonds.

I explained that back at my college in Buffalo, New York, there was a little-known local band that used to play at the campus rathskellar (nicknamed The Rat as so many of them were). Their name: The Goo Goo Dolls. I’ll never forget reading the flier on a light pole and thinking “weird name, but maybe they’ll be good.” Of course, they were incredible, and I’ve always regretted that I didn’t keep a copy of that flier from my college days. The next year at that college, though, I met my wife, and thankfully I’ve managed to keep her for 26 years now.

Granted, such a warm concert memory is bittersweet during a pandemic. All college kids should be hearing new bands at places like The Rat and laughing at crazy band names on campus fliers. Hopefully those days will return soon.

In the meantime, families should continue sharing stories along with songs during these extended hours together, at home, waiting for more life to resume. We’ve all had to give a little bit, and many have had to give a lot. But families need to keep giving to each other, keep providing each other space for a little bit longer. At least this experience is bonding parents and children in myriad ways, some of which may not become apparent for decades.

Speaking of decades, my wife and I just made our plan for our 26^th wedding anniversary. Our tentative, might-get-cancelled hope is to eat in something called an outdoor “gondola.” Far from a romantic boat ride in Venice, we’ll be sitting in a ski-lift style cable car. But hey, after the year families have been through, it will be smooth skiing for a few hours someplace other than home.

Photo by Kevin McKeever

EDITOR’S NOTE: This Saturday is a rare event, Leap Day. It is also Rare Disease Day, an international campaign to raise awareness about the 7,000 under-the-radar diseases that individually affect few people but, as a whole, affect more than 1 in 10 Americans.

On my daughter’s birthday last year, I drove several hours to visit her at college. I brought her the local vanilla-bean glazed doughnuts she claims are “the best” along with several assorted goodies from home. We then spent most of our afternoon chatting and watching reruns of Friends while we waited for her latest five-hour drip of IV medication to finish.

For all but the first two of her 19 years, my daughter has dealt with juvenile dermatomyositis, an incurable autoimmune disease that affects muscles and blood vessels. Just three in a million children are diagnosed with it, so you probably have never heard of JDM before. Not even if you know my girl. Outside of our family and the phalanx of doctors and nurses who have treated her through two decades, she barely talks about her condition, especially not with her friends and classmates. It’s rare a child wants to be seen as different from her peers, and that is no different for a child battling a rare disease.

Someone else, though, has given a voice to people like my daughter.

Not long after our indulging in carbs and Chandler Bing’s antics, legendary rock guitarist Peter Frampton announced a farewell tour. The 68-year-old, best known for his 1970s megahit album Frampton Comes Alive, told the world his pending retirement is being hastened by inclusion body myositis, an adult variant of the rare disease my daughter has that is even less treatable and more damaging than her condition. It, too, has no cure.

IBM, as it is called for short, is a degenerative illness. It progressively weakens and lays waste to major muscles in the arms and legs. Worst for a skilled guitar player, it eventually affects strength and dexterity in the wrists and fingers.

Someone’s diagnosis with an incurable disease is never cause for celebration. However, Frampton’s prominence and openness with media and fans about his battle excites certain people. These are the doctors, researchers, caretakers and patients who have spent a significant portion of their lives dealing with or dedicated to conditions few others know about.

“I can’t begin to tell you how extraordinary it is and how generous it is on his part to reveal this,” Frampton’s doctor, Lisa Christopher-Stine, director of the Johns Hopkins Myositis Center in Baltimore, told the Global Genes website. “With rare diagnoses, we are all struggling to gain recognition for them in the public sphere. His disclosure brings potential funding, awareness and support. Not every disease has a celebrity spokesperson for it, but when it does, it accelerates progress exponentially.”

In addition to going public about the potential devastating effects of his disease, Frampton established a research fund bearing his name at the Hopkins center, one of a very small handful of medical facilities dedicated to these illnesses. One dollar from every ticket sold on his final tour will go to the fund, which is expected to receive many additional donations at a steady pace from fans, peers and many others during that June-to-October run, a Hopkins spokesperson told me.

As Frampton said about his diagnosis in a recent interview with CBS This Morning, “Look, it’s not life-threatening. It’s life-changing.” For my family, especially for my daughter, I hope his championing of the cause of myositis research does change many, many lives for the better. Her mother and I have spent much time and effort raising money and attention to the disease and its need for better treatments the past decade or so, but it will surely be a fraction of what a respected superstar like Frampton can bring the cause.

In the meantime, my daughter continues improving after the latest flare of JDM, a condition that once made it impossible for her to walk and almost impossible to swallow when she was a toddler. Her doctors are looking at tapering some of the many meds they had to reintroduce to her regime; she is looking forward to a spring season on her college’s tennis team. And, despite the many appointments, pills and IVs, she pretty much goes about her day as if she was any ordinary 19-year-old and not the rarity she really is.

Photo: Kevin McKeever

Portland Dads Group member Aaron Canwell and his then 6-month-old son, Micah, were wandering around their Oregon hometown looking for family-friendly things to do when they stumbled on a group of musicians playing children’s songs with a rock ‘n’ roll beat.

Quickly, two new “kindie” music fans were born.

“This performance engaged children young and old to sing and dance,” Canwell said. “I got hooked. I decided I wanted to take my love of music and movement to share with children just like these people did.”

And soon was born a new band.

Micah and Me, composed of Canwell and three other members of our Portland Dads Group, has become popular playing toddler parties and other kid-centric events for the past four years in and around Portland. This includes a monthly gig at the local children’s museum our Portland Dads Group helps sponsor. As a result, readers of PDX Parent magazine earlier this month selected Micah and Me a Top 5 Best Kindie Musician/Performer in Portland.

Now the band is trying to raise money to finance its first album.

“After almost every show we are asked if we have a CD and the answer is always ‘sorry we don’t!’ So to remedy that we are recording our first album,” the band wrote on its Kickstarter page. They hope to raise $6,000 by Father’s Day, June 18.

Aside from Canwell, who sings and plays ukulele, the band includes: Ryan Chouinard (guitar, bass drum, vocals), Justin Deckert (bass) and, National At-Home Dad Network President, Portland Dads Group organizer and blog contributor Chris Routly (percussion, ukulele, vocals).

** Contribute to the Micah and Me album fund **

We follow up a rave review of the new album by Glen Henry (aka Beleaf Melanin), In Fatherhood, with an interview of the artist and popular YouTube dad.

Q: You are big on collaborating with friends and family. In the closing song “Baby Daddy,” you speak to the adage “it takes a village” in parenting, but what does that mean to you in terms of creating art?

Beleaf/Glen Henry: It’s important to come in with a team. I definitely don’t think we were meant to do things alone. I think we can but it’s best to do them as a tribe. A part of a bigger village that’s basically open to changing the world.

I started out as a DJ and that means I was support for an MC. And then I became the hype man. And then I started rapping. So, I’ve never really been alone, or … been able to produce my own thoughts exclusively so the collective and being part of a team  … makes the most sense. I like to use people who have very little exposure or not as much as me. That way I’m elevating them and not just calling the biggest rappers I know to my support.

Q: How has the early reception of In Fatherhood been?

Beleaf/Glen Henry: Early reception of the album has been positive. And I say “positive” and not “good” because most of the people who’ve listened to the album have been other rappers and there’s always this, like, unmentioned competition. You know, kind of looking at you sideways-type, like, “Let me try to find something wrong with this.” So, instead of saying a song is bad or … that they love the song, they’ll say, “Hey, this seems like it wasn’t mastered as good as the other ones.” … It’s so much competition it’s hard to find real feedback. Now from all of my friends who’ve heard it … I think because some of the lyrics [and] some of the flows are so complex for the regular ear, they might have to go back and listen to it again.

Q: Let’s talk about the well-documented misconception of the absent black father. Your flow, heck your entire being, runs counter-current to that faulty narrative. Do you think about that and actively try to disprove it in your family life, faith and music?

Beleaf/Glen Henry: I think being a black father in the current time is something that I think about a lot. I often know that I have to disprove it but it’s not something I’m doing on purpose. You know, my very existence is counter … even me being alive at this age and doing something like what I’m doing on YouTube and hip hop and actually making money off of it is already like, “Oh, you’re successful.”

I think right now what I’m doing is giving proof to all the other people out there that didn’t know it was possible. I think a large group of black women watch my content because it shows them that we [present black fathers] really exist out here. You know what I’m sayin’? Or, what they already have at home in their husband.

I go to a predominately white church. It’s diverse but it’s predominately white and so just me being there, like, I have to be, kind of the guy who people aren’t afraid to talk to and ask very stupid questions of. I have to be, you know, for the culture, I am leading the way and so I’m making it easier for my kids and so I put up with a lot more. I let people get away with a lot more because I understand that I am a leader and I’m making it easier for my sons and my daughter and any other black father coming behind me or who is around me currently. So, I think about it but I don’t … do it on purpose which means since I’m a leader, I have a lot less freedom.

Q: How involved are you in your church community and does that ever prove challenging, as far as being a hip-hop artist, by way of the stigma inherent in either?

Beleaf/Glen Henry: My church community … it’s just, like, you know, my squad. I have a “life group,” a group of eight couples that we’re really close with. We do all our holidays together. We meet weekly and kind of have Bible Study … [sometimes] it’s just us hangin’ out, just reminding each other that it’s hard sometimes and that we love each other and just praying for each other. I host that life group and then I help with a podcast for the church and video for the church. Me and my pastor are like best friends. Really close. He’s actually my kids’ goddad and so I’m really involved in the community at church. But, it’s not like it’s any different than just friends.

There’s no challenge to me doing hip-hop and me being in church. They are very receptive to my art and my talent and my skill. They don’t make me rap on Sundays. They don’t use me as the hip-hop prop or gimmick. It’s just kind of like one of those things where it’s like, “Hey, if we need a nice voiceover, can you do it for us?” And I’m like, “Sure.” You know, that type of thing. … I don’t know how well hip-hop fits in a worship setting. It’s not like the two worlds really collide that much but if I do need support or I’m throwing a show or something like that I usually have as much ability as I need or resources as I need from the church.

Q: What is your definition of a “modern dad”?

Beleaf/Glen Henry: To me, being a modern dad means being very versatile in your settings. Because children … and we are a lot more exposed to things, I feel like to be modern just means to be of the time and so that means that I can exist and be open to a lot of conversations so as a Christian dad, I can still do community and have a conversation with a gay dad, you know?

To be a modern father means to be woke in a sense. It also means to be overall present in the day-to-day of my children and in the day-to-day of my community. It means that I’m a pillar. It means that what I do reflects the community and I have the ability to change my entire community.

Q: On the album’s final track, “Baby Daddy,” you say you are “leaving hip hop to become a storyteller.” So if so, what’s next?

Beleaf/Glen Henry: I really want to start writing. I hope that this album proves how good of a writer I am and that maybe I could ghostwrite for some people. Maybe I could write some songs. I want to get residual income but I don’t wanna leave home. I want to be able to make money off of music and use my ability to song-write and give that to other people and let them use that as a part of their arsenal. So, essentially adding value to the community by putting good music out there.

In addition, I’m really excited about the YouTube venture that I’ve been doing and how open the community is right now. So I want to move forward with that in a major way and give a lot more diversity to the platform as a whole. What that means is me becoming within the top 15 percent of YouTubers and being a really successful brand that can basically tell people where we’re moving as a culture. That type of success is … when you’re leading within the culture … whether it’s blogging or whatever, you have the power to give people input and basically tell people how we’re moving. That’s pretty much incomparable to any song I’ve ever written. So what I’m seeing with the YouTube thing is a lot more freedom and not so many rules. We’re making up the rules as we go because it’s such a new platform and I say new meaning 10 years old.

I want to be the guy writing songs in my spare time. Making videos in my spare time. Putting those things up at my leisure. I want to travel with my family and I want us to go places where I get paid to speak and tell people stories about what fatherhood, what family, and what love could look like if we focus on forgiveness and so I’m learning this myself as I have issues with my own parents. Really, what fatherhood really taught me is more about patience with your parents and all that stuff. I’m learning more about being a man by being a father and so fatherhood has turned me more into a student than anything else.

The modern fatherhood space can seem, well, academic, at times. Overly disciplined, sterile. Whitewashed, even.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, a hip-hop album drops, and a breathtakingly talented dad emerges to the forefront to remind us that fatherhood advocacy isn’t always squeaky-clean academia and the face of it, most certainly, isn’t always white.

That album is In Fatherhood. That dad is Beleaf Melanin.

And, perhaps unbeknownst even to him, he has just penned fatherhood’s National Anthem in the form of an elaborate conceit, woven around a singular euphonious narrative, stretched expertly across 17 tracks of the illest hip hop I’ve been treated to in quite some time.

U-N-I-T-Y is what spell unity
Jamaica all my jewelry
‘Cause I’ll only rep what’s in my community
Matter fact, play this after my eulogy

– Beleaf, “Tribe”

Beleaf, whose last studio album, 2014’s Red Pills + Black Sugar, received some acclaim, isn’t on his first fatherhood rodeo. He has chronicled his own brand of active and engaged involvement with his three kids on his gorgeous Beleaf In Fatherhood YouTube series since 2015. But fatherhood, in particular the recent birth of his first daughter, did change something profound in him, and it is apparent in his new music.

On In Fatherhood, Beleaf latest places a larger emphasis on family, immediate and extended, and the need for holding up one another despite seemingly unfair share of trials and tribulations.

I throw a snowball at a snowman
Frostbit on both hands
I bow down to no man
That’s ice on ice violence
I SE’LICE (SLICE) a sky’s silence,
Avalanche your native land
I’m Abraham, I found a ram
up in that thicket
sick til’ the kids say lit.
That look like that hurt.
Put some ice on that

— Beleaf, “No Chill”

Though he whimsically interlaces In Fatherhood with light-hearted interludes about the internet offering him a bevy of unsolicited parenting advice, an angry voicemail from an ex-girlfriend, and other pleasantly deft digressions, a la De La Soul’s 3 Feet High And Rising, he is earnest and edgy in his hip-hop prosody. He means what he says and says what he means and no biters, haters, or online beraters are ever going to dissuade him.

I wrote myself a lullaby so I could sleep
But I don’t sleep on
Chocolate babies urinated
Tempurpedics get peed on
Up and at ‘em, 3 am
I caught it all on C-A-M
You laugh at me when I’m pooped on
But diapers look like Grey Poupon

– Beleaf, “Lightweight”

Don’t get it twisted. That verse above is hardly parody. This isn’t a one-off internet dad rapper being funny atop a found beat. This is his story and life and to be able to nimbly spin it into verse is beyond noteworthy. It’s genius.

In fact, “Lightweight” is quite possibly my favorite of the bunch on In Fatherhood. It has an undeniable “he’s not heavy, he’s my brother,” vibe, but in the obvious context of his kids. There’s a cadence and tone to it as if it is answering a charge. When I hear it and its tale of the trials of fatherhood and family life, I can’t help think about the erroneous-yet-pervasive notion of “the absent or uninvolved black father.”

You’re Okay
No one told me it’d be this good
No one said I’d have this much fun with you
They all told me about the hard times
But they said nothin’ about the miracles
Look, it’s all good
No matter what you may do
It’s all good

— Beleaf, “You’re Okay”

Grab a tissue or a baby wipe or whatever you have handy because you’re going to need it. “You’re Okay” is not merely an earworm. It’s a soul Cydnidae. It’s a love song to a son, a ballad for a baby girl. It’s the anthem for “Everyfather.” It’s the ultimate expression of a modern dad’s love for his offspring. Fatherhood organizations should be clamoring to license it as the soundtrack to all things paternal.

My car got stolen the other day
And I blame the devil
I’m feeling like a mountain
Tribulations like a pebble
Talk to God on my behalf
If you could fit that in your schedule
Your boy needs some sleep
The baby screaming like a kettle

— Beleaf, “Protect Ya’ Life”

Beleaf is a dedicated Christian man who joyfully wears his spirituality on the sleeve. But this is not “God Rock.” These aren’t mumble rapping, ass slapping, lazily looped club bangers. It’s an intentional, symphonic call-back to the age of real MCs: an age when artful wordsmiths like Souls Of Mischief, Mos Def, De La Soul, and Digable Planets crafted dynamic metaphors and employed compelling poetic constructs in an effort to “bring the ruckus.” In Fatherhood exemplifies that same feel because of Beleaf’s acrobatic lyricism and how his every sentiment settles expertly into the dips and vicissitudes of the music.

This is REAL hip hop. In Fatherhood is the way, the truth, and the life and a downright deluge in an obvious drought.

I have become very comfortable in my little gay life since coming out six years ago. I’ve found a partner who is a kind and compassionate dude. My now teenage daughter has been supportive since the start and is a champion for equal rights. And, I live in a socially liberal part of the country where homophobia is distinctly uncool.

But I’ve learned that a requisite part of the coming-out process involves the continuing acknowledgment that you’re gay. It’s important because, even in the most accepting of circumstances, being gay is still seen by some as being “Less Than.”

Yes, many straight people love love love gay people, but being gay still can mean being looked upon as a novelty or a sideshow attraction. When I walk down the street with my husband and daughter, I see people look at us with a particular expression — a smile and little head tilt — that says: Oh, look. How sweet. It’s almost like they’re straight.

Moments like that don’t make me angry, but last year it did motivate me to do something I never thought I’d do. Rather than just continue being comfortable in my existence as a Gay Man Walking, I decided to do something that would be a bit more … vocal.

I joined a gay men’s choir.

Mild-mannered gay?

“You did what???” my daughter asked when I told her.

“There’s a new gay men’s choir starting in town, and I’m joining it,” I repeated. “I’ve sung in choirs before, you know that.”

“I know. But this is … different. What kind of songs do gay men’s choirs sing?”

I didn’t know. Show tunes? Diva tributes? I told her I’d find out at the first rehearsal and keep her posted.

“OK,” she said. “I mean, it’s totally awesome that you’re doing it. I’m just surprised.”

“Why surprised?” I asked.

“I don’t know. You’re sort of a … mild-mannered gay guy, aren’t you?”

I wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was going.

“I just don’t see you as being so … open about being gay.”

I was surprised. This kid and I had been marching together in pride parades for several years. I hold my husband’s hand at restaurants. I wear tank tops in public, for God’s sake.

That conversation gave me some clarity about why I needed to join a gay men’s choir. Not because I hadn’t sung in a choir of any kind in several years, and missed it. Not because I have an addiction to jazz hands and choralography. Not because I harbored a secret desire to go all Mariah in front of a crowd.

I joined the gay men’s choir because I realized doing so made me uncomfortable.

It’s one thing to tell your friends you’re gay or even write blog posts about the gay experience. It’s a whole different notion to stand with 15 other gay men and sing songs. I mean, for most of us, singing is scary enough on its own without getting your sexual identity involved, especially when that identity isn’t always considered favorable by some.

But something about being called a “mild-mannered gay” by my daughter really got to me. So I jumped in and joined the group. All jazz hands on deck.

Enter the gay men’s choir

I attended rehearsals and got to know the other guys. All ages, all backgrounds, all nice guys who love music and sing beautifully. Yes, the repertoire has its share of show tunes. And, yes, a couple of songs involved some shimmer fingers and fancy stepping. But practicing the music together was fun, and joining other gay men in a common purpose was fulfilling, enabling me to find a sense of place among a community I hadn’t gotten to know.

I had a great time during rehearsals, even though it was clear early on that the only person who felt a little uncomfortable with some of the, uh … “gayer” songs was me. It was about embracing a particular form of gayness, and just relaxing about it.

I reported back to my family and friends about how things were going. My daughter seemed amused by the whole thing and excited to see what the concert would be like.

“Is there dancing?” she asked.

“There will be a small bit of dancing, yes.”

“Will you get to sing a solo?”

“I have a very small, one-measure solo.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“What?”

“Nothing. So after the concert, are you gonna stay with the choir?”

A good question. I actually hadn’t thought much beyond the upcoming show, or how I would feel after.

He did survive – hey, hey

The concert went great. It was well-attended by a lively and friendly audience in a nearby church. My husband and daughter were front and center, proud supporters. I stood with my choir and we performed our set of songs, the concert running just under an hour. The opening song was from the stage musical The Book of Mormon (“Hello!”). Then came a lush spiritual. Then a campy jazz song involving some slightly saucy lyrical changes befitting a group of men who dig other men. A couple more classic show tunes. A sweet duet from The Fully Monty about never feeling alone when you have someone to walk beside you, a message that resonates with anyone, gay or straight. And, of course, our rendition of “I Will Survive.” (Legally required of all gay men’s choirs.)

The whole thing was fun. And strengthening. There was music. There was laughter. And, at the end, there was applause.

The audience was very supportive and offered a lot of congratulations during the post-concert milling around. But most importantly, my daughter loved it. She loved the songs, she loved the campiness, and she loved that her dad was up there singing, drawing from a different part of himself that she hadn’t seen before.

On the walk home later, she couldn’t stop laughing at some of the funnier moments, the balance of camp and sincerity. But in between the giggles, she stopped and said, “You know, I’m very proud of you, Dad.”

Clearly, all I needed.

I still have moments when I’m Walking While Gay, and wonder if I’m purposefully trying to act or not act a certain way. You don’t just suddenly stop being self-conscious about yourself no matter what self-realizations strike, or how old you are when they hit. But if there’s one place where there will be absolutely no question about me, or my gayness, or the pride I feel in myself, it’s when I’m singing with my choir.

Larger-than-life characters with outrageous costumes and secret identities are standard fare for summer movies these days. It seems only natural that the original rock and roll superheroes KISS will be bringing their live concert experience to theaters for one-night only in KISS Rocks Vegas on May 25th.

The Starchild, the Demon, the Spaceman, and the Catman deliver healthy doses of hits to an audience of multi-generational fans with a level of showmanship that makes the Vegas environment a natural fit for their act. Pyrotechnics explode, lasers flash, and band members rise and soar above the crowd while a unique video-screen array frames and enhances their every move.

KISS Rocks Vegas is a unique opportunity for new fans to experience the power and the sound of a live KISS performance, and for existing fans, well, we know why you’re watching this!

Recorded during a residency at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino, KISS Rock Vegas presents a 2014 concert experience in glorious Dolby Atmos surround sound that will assault your senses and rock your world.

NYC Dads Group was lucky enough to get an invite to preview this spectacle, and we were immersed in the experience in the Dolby Showroom in Midtown Manhattan. We were in for a mind-blowing show.

Movie theater audiences will have the advantage of experiencing the visual spectacle of their performance in a way that the live audience simply can’t. The band delivers the goods in KISS Rocks Vegas, running through hits like “Detroit Rock City,” “Lick It Up,” “Shout It Out Loud” and more than a dozen of your favorite KISS classics that will have you stomping your feet and singing along.

And it can’t be emphasized enough just how detailed this concert is. If you’ve never seen KISS live before, here’s your crash course as to why they have so many life long die-hard fans.

If you have seen KISS live, then you also really need to see KISS Rocks Vegas just to see everything you’ve missed. There’s so much going on in this film that it can be definitively said that, yeah, you missed lots of stuff. Even if it is Gene Simmons’ drool. Which is awesome.

It simply cannot be overstated enough how singular KISS is, how amazing, how iconic, and how incredible their shows are. Combine that with their songs, the soundtrack of so many people’s lives, and this is far beyond a concert movie, this is a window onto Americana, a glimpse into the soul of heavy metal rock and roll.

I hear what you’re saying, what a load, right? C’mon man, you’re laying it on pretty thick, give us a break, huh?

No.

You love KISS. Perhaps you don’t even realize it, but if you clicked on this, then yeah, you do. You just don’t realize how much you do is all. You love KISS songs. You smile when you see a picture of them. They are so much more than a band, they are ingrained upon culture, upon history. They are iconic, they are incredible, they are immortal.

Here’s your chance to see the band up close and awesome! After all, with larger-than-life characters with outrageous costumes and secret identities being standard fare for summer movies these days, it’s only natural that KISS gets their shot at the silver screen too!

I love summer!  I look forward to it every year.  Without a doubt one of my most favorite things about summer is entertainment in local parks.  Getting out and enjoying the area that has been set aside for public enjoyment and taking in a  good movie or listening to great music.

Now most of the municipalities out here in the greater Chicagoland area do some variation on this theme.  My family loves getting together and enjoying the summer concert series our village of Downers Grove puts on each summer.

If for whatever reason their isn’t something local for you, don’t worry the City of Chicago has you covered.  The Millennium Park Film series and Music series has been announced, along with the Grant Park Music Festival.

From Orchestral to Indie Rock you’ll get your Music fix and then some.  If you like the Movies among the films you can come downtown to see are, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, West Side Story, and Purple Rain.

Bring a Blanket and a picnic or some snacks and join a few 1000 other people for a few summer events your family will love.

…and by the way, it is all FREE!

Grab your calendars and hop over to the following links so you can schedule a few of these events!

The Millennium Park Music Series

The Millennium Park Film Series

Grant Park Music Fesitval