There is a specific kind of magic that occurs when a Northeast Ohio native returns to the soil that raised them, especially when that native happens to be a whirlwind of creative chaos and genuine charm. On April 16, the historic and atmospheric Akron Civic Theatre will play host to a homecoming of sorts—though, in the case of Dave Hill, it is more like a glorious, amplified invasion. Hill is descending upon Akron to perform as the opening act for Puscifer, the experimental rock powerhouse fronted by another legendary local export, Maynard James Keenan (of Tool and A Perfect Circle fame). To call this a mere concert would be a disservice to the sheer level of spectacle involved. It is a meeting of the minds, a collision of eccentricities, and a testament to the fact that something in the Lake Erie water produces individuals who are simply incapable of being boring.
In the landscape of modern entertainment, Dave Hill stands out as a true polymath. He is, without exaggeration, one of the most talented authors, comedians, musicians, and social media presences working in the business today. Whether he is shredding on a guitar with technical precision that would make a metalhead weep, writing prose that manages to be both heartbreaking and hysterical, or engaging in “low-stakes” social media feuds that keep thousands of followers refreshed, Hill is a constant engine of creativity. He carries that distinct Northeast Ohio sensibility—a blend of self-deprecation, grit, and an unwavering commitment to the bit—wherever he goes.
For the local faithful, the name Dave Hill is often synonymous with his annual holiday gig at the Grog Shop in Cleveland Heights. These shows have become the stuff of legend. Every year, without fail, the event sells out. Each show is uniquely different from the last. It is consistently entertaining, deeply festive in its own twisted way, and also incredibly confusing for the uninitiated. If you wander into a Hill holiday show without context, you might find yourself wondering why a man in a spectacular suit is lecturing you on the nuances of Mexican hairless dogs or why the entire room is suddenly involved in a high-stakes singalong about things that don’t actually rhyme. It is a beautiful, curated madness that only someone with Hill’s specific DNA could orchestrate.
The fact that Hill has managed to climb to the heights of the industry while remaining so delightfully strange is a feat in itself. While Hill deserves every single ounce of success that he has earned through years of relentless touring and writing, one has to wonder about the mechanics of his career. It’s been joked—mostly by people who are jealous of his suit collection—that he must have the world’s second-best booking agent. This agent, whoever they may be, is clearly a wizard, operating just one rung below the representative for the truly insufferable and inexplicably untalented Myles Kennedy.
Hill has spent extensive time on the road with artists who are as notorious for their talent as they are for their tight-knit, almost impenetrable inner circles. We are talking about the likes of Bill Murray, Snoop Dogg, and, of course, Maynard James Keenan. These are not people who hand out invitations to just anyone. They are curators of their own environments, and somehow, Hill has become a permanent fixture in their worlds. When asked about his uncanny ability to latch on to these legendary figures, Hill remains characteristically humble, if not slightly surprised by his own trajectory.
“Those artists reached out to me and asked me to do it,” Hill explains. “I’m psyched for people that I really admire, and some of the cases of someone like Bill Murray, who obviously I’ve been a fan of since I was a kid. I’m psyched that they know I exist and want me to be a part of what they’re doing. I’d say I’m super psyched with Puscifer. Maynard’s wife was a fan of mine first and she turned him onto my stuff. And then Puddles Pity Party and I did like their company employee Christmas party the year before last in Arizona.”
As he prepares to take the stage at the Akron Civic Theatre, fans are already buzzing about what the opening set will look like. Puscifer fans are a dedicated breed, used to the theatrical and the avant-garde, which makes Hill the perfect appetizer for the main course. When asked what the Akron crowd can expect from his upcoming performance, Hill’s optimism is infectious.
“I know they’re going to love the Puscifer show. I’m not worried for them. I think the whole thing will be great though,” Hill says. “I’ve been doing a lot of tours lately opening for bands and so far, knock on wood, it’s been great. I think they’ll be up for it. Hopefully they’ll pass me around on their shoulders every night. That’s my hope.”
While the image of a Puscifer crowd crowd-surfing Dave Hill through the opulent aisles of the Civic Theatre is a beautiful dream, the reality of his set is a bit more calculated. There is a distinct science to being an opening act. Hill is well aware that the audience at the Civic might be different from those who pack the Grog Shop every December.
His headlining shows are often described as bizarre, but Hill insists there are levels to this game. He recalls one particular instance of an even weirder performance art piece involving a puppeteer operating under the moniker Pickle Fight Puppets. It was a show so strange that it even had Hill himself scratching his head in disbelief, which is saying something for a man who once tried to join a Norwegian black metal band for a documentary. When comparing his headlining work to the opening slot he’ll be occupying in Akron, Hill explains the tonal shift.
“It’s pretty much the same,” Hill notes regarding the content of his set. “The only thing I would say is that in my headlining shows, I really enjoy long, rambly things that sort of challenge the audience a bit and really demand their attention for a longer period. Whereas when I’m doing the opening shows, I veer more towards material that’s more quick hit. I think there’s certain things like stories or something where you really kind of have to be paying attention to the entire story. I find stuff that goes over really great with audiences in some settings, especially my headlining shows. If you’re showing up to an amphitheater or an arena or something and people don’t know who you are and you’re like, ‘Here, pay close attention to everything I say,’ that can kind of be more of a challenge. I don’t do the things that are potentially torturous to the new observer. I could go a little easier on them. I might leave some bits that I love out just because I know they might be really confusing to someone who’s just finding their seat after getting a drink or something. I give them the gateway drugs first and then I hook them on the heavy stuff later.”
For Hill, the “gateway drugs” consist of high-energy comedy, blistering guitar solos, and a stage presence that demands immediate engagement. He isn’t looking to just warm up the crowd; he wants to leave an indelible mark on their collective psyche before the headliners even tune their instruments.
“I want them to just get their faces melted off, that they’re like feeling like they’re seeing Barbra Streisand and Slayer all rolled into one magnetic performance, maybe a little Harlem Globetrotters—just full entertainment, just full of the physicality, comedy, music, and just be inspired to take to the streets after once the show is over,” Hill says.
The Akron show offers a unique opportunity for Hill to lean into his local roots. He has always been a proud ambassador for the region, often incorporating hyper-specific Northeast Ohio references into his routines that would go completely over the heads of an audience in London or Los Angeles. For the Akron gig, he is planning to dig deep into the local lore.
He has a legendary bit titled “Pickup lines that only work in Cleveland,” which features deep-cut targets like the long-closed Randall Park Mall and former local news anchor Denise Dufala. Even Grandpa’s Cheese Barn (“Wanna trade pants?”) is fair game.
“I’ll probably give some good local stuff,” Hill promises. “I have a 20-minute block about the old club Tangier locked and loaded for Akron. I probably have a lot of Rubber Bowl material.”
(The iconic space was a staple of the city’s nightlife for decades before it was purchased by another Northeast Ohio titan, LeBron James. The venue has since been transformed into House Three Thirty, a community hub and multi-purpose space; news that this interviewer broke to Hill during the interview.)
There is always a lingering question when a performer as charismatic as Hill takes the opening slot: Is he worried about upstaging the main event? It is a valid concern when you are promising a mix of Streisand and Slayer. However, Hill has far too much respect for Puscifer—and far too much self-awareness—to let that ego get in the way.
“I’m sure it’s always a concern, but I think Puscifer is great,” Hill admits. “I mean, I’ve only opened for great bands. I think if I really felt like there was a threat, like I might be ruining the tour by blowing the headliner away every night, I would politely decline. Puscifer has always had excellent taste in openers over the years and I think they put great thought into having someone.”
Beyond the music and the jokes about local malls, there is a deeper side to Hill that his social media followers see daily. He is a man with strong political leanings, often using his platforms to address the complexities and frustrations of the modern world. However, if you attend a Hill show expecting a political rally, you will be sorely disappointed—or perhaps, deeply relieved. He has made a conscious decision to keep his live performances a sanctuary from the digital noise. He views his role as a performer not as a lecturer, but as a provider of much-needed escapism.
“As anyone who follows me on social media knows, I’m really engaged in what’s going on in the world, in the country and stuff,” Hill says. “As a performer and artist and all that, coincidentally, what I do is more absurd and an escape from reality. I definitely like everything that I do. First and foremost, it’s to entertain myself. I want people to come out and have a good time, but you know, in the creation of it, I’m just doing it to entertain myself and then I’m like, ‘Oh, I better leave the house and go do this in front of other people, so the rent’s going to be due.’ It is truly an escape for everyone because, just coincidentally, I don’t talk about any of that stuff in my show. It’s just not where my mind goes in terms of my comedy and music. Sometime in the last year or so, I kind of had this thought of: You got to be the flower in the garbage dump. You still got to be yourself and bloom and, you know, no matter how awful everything is around you.”
That philosophy—being the flower in the garbage dump—is perhaps the best way to describe the Dave Hill experience. The world can be a heavy, confusing, and often frustrating place, but Hill’s audience will be treated to the musings of a man who has mastered the art of the absurd, a man who can bridge the gap between heavy metal and high fashion, and a man who hasn’t forgotten where he came from.
Whether he’s reminiscing about the glory days of the Rubber Bowl or explaining why he deserves to be carried out of the building on the shoulders of the fans, Hill is guaranteed to provide a performance that is as heartfelt as it is hilarious. When he takes that stage on April 16, he won’t just be an opening act. He’ll be a neighbor, a friend, and a world-class entertainer reminding us all that even in the middle of a garbage dump, there is still plenty of room to bloom.
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