Weezer, pt. 3: Anthony's Album Guide

GLIB XENNIAL CONTENT WARNING: Historically, I don't publish album guide entries without at least one 8/10 or higher. Weezer and you both survived pt. 2, however, and I hope you'll survive this. Both of you can always go back to pt. 1 if you crave validation, so please appreciate how thoughtful and tempered this hatorade is. And I apologize if this hatorade is too thoughtful and tempered for your liking, as well. My handy dandy profoundly subjective numerical rating scheme is explained here.

Everything Will Be Alright In The End (2014) 5
Weezer [The White Album] (2016) 7
Pacific Daydream (2017) 5
Weezer [The Teal Album] (2019) 4
Weezer [The Black Album] (2019) 3
OK Human (2021) 4
Van Weezer (2021) 7
SZNZ: Spring (2022) 3
SZNZ: Summer (2022) 4
SZNZ: Autumn (2022) 6
SZNZ: Winter (2022) 4

It’s now clear that an extended gap between Weezer albums means bandleader Rivers Cuomo got embarrassed. 1996’s Pinkerton was mocked by hipster adults (if eventually lionized by emo kids), and it took five years before 2001’s Green Album was released. 2002’s Maladroit was too obtuse, so he took his time with 2005’s Make Believe. Make Believe was too mainstream, so he hemmed again before 2008’s eccentric Red Album. After an underwhelming glut of 2010 releases, 2011 plans were scrapped so Cuomo could craft something that wouldn’t be written off as More Bad Weezer by those who believe Weezer Was Good Once.

Rehiring Top Car Ric Ocasek, producer of Blue & Green, certainly got the fair-weather fan’s attention.  Then “Back To The Shack” showed up on alternative radio in the summer of 2014, its lyrics literally apologizing for seeking a new audience, conceding “disco sucks” and declaring “we belong in the rock world.” The old-school stomp and crunch might have charmed in passing, but it was an excruciating new low if you knew the band already returned to rock - even signing to punk indie Epitaph! - after the pop moves on Raditude. Imagine if Starship’s “We Built This City” wasn’t just conservative crowing (“turn off those stupid singing shows”) made ironic by the band’s own compromises (Weezer was back on a major, and hadn’t given up song doctors), but passive-aggressively suggesting this pandering nostalgia was career suicide. By “rocking out like it’s ’94,” Cuomo claimed, Weezer might “die in obscurity.” True believers still listening to the format either didn’t care or didn’t mind the bullshit, and “Shack” was their first #1 on that chart since “Pork & Beans” (also about daring to recall The Blue Album). Barf.

Nothing else on Everything Will Be Alright In The End is as atrocious as “Back To The Shack," but little is as memorable. Cuomo returns to the ambitious pomp of his Red Album contributions, only where Rick Rubin approved from the couch, Ocasek sat at the board making sure it all flowed. There’s too much empty fanfare (and self-pitying meta like “Shack”) for me to get excited, but “Da Vinci” (co-written by a Billy Steinberg associate) and “Foolish Father” (co-written by the singer of Titus Andronicus) - both plausibly from the perspective of a parent - might be their most affecting love songs since the ‘90s. “Go Away,” a cute duet with Bethany Cosentino from Best Coast, became a fluke viral hit earlier this year, their first Hot 100 appearance of the ‘20s. I guess that extra effort paid off! Eventually!

Between this revived confidence and a new 360 management/recording deal with Crush, it was only a year after End’s release that we got the single “Thank God For Girls,” some truly freaky erotic anguish for guy a who’d been married for a decade (“I’m like an Indian Fakir trying to meditate on a bed of nails/ with my pants pulled down”). “Do You Wanna Get High?” came a week later, the song a “Pink Triangle” rewrite musically, and a “We Are All On Drugs” rewrite lyrically. On the following January’s missive, Rivers apologized to his Japan-born wife for Hiroshima. February’s salvo opened “L.A. girls, please act your age.” March’s “California Kids” was a endearing co-write with Semisonic's Dan Wilson, an expert at those aching, alterna-guy vocal leaps, but you might have missed it among all this ick.

The band had led with their worst feet forward, though, as 2016’s The White Album contextualizes these songs in the concept of a new LA transplant too neurotic and naive to handle sex, drugs & rock’n’roll (gee, I wonder who that was?). Producer Jake Sinclair (5 Seconds Of Summer, Fall Out Boy) gets results so songful and swinging that it’s their best album since Maladroit. The lyrical awkwardsauce keeps the album from matching the glory days, with White’s narrator overstating his purity compared to Pinkerton’s. But maybe I’m just too old for Rivers to get his hooks in me now. If I have outgrown appreciating the majesty of modern Weezer, there are worse fates.

(By the way, Brian Bell, Scott Shriner and Pat Wilson remain the other three members of Weezer. They’re usually pumped about the new album, if sometimes voicing retroactive concerns about a previous album.)

Cuomo initially wanted to follow The White Album with The Black Album, a darker companion piece. But a different album came together first, more wistful than edgy. Produced mostly by Butch Walker (though J.R. Totem is the most famous of the six names attached to the EDM-adjacent “Feels Like Summer”), Pacific Daydream is perhaps The Grey Album, or Raditude II: The Legend Of Chillwave’s Gold. The lush bounce of “Happy Hour” is too juicy to resist, Cuomo imagining himself as a fatigued clockpuncher in need of a fruity cocktail, hoping to meet a “scientist in sweatpants and a hair tie” who likes MIDI keyboards (give him this: where most singer pining for independent women are referring to wealth, Cuomo encourages having nerdy interests of your own). I don’t like ‘10s Tame Impala nearly as much as ‘00s Timbaland, and this pop swing feels more genteel and mundane than Raditude accordingly. Also, points off for literally naming a song “Beach Boys.” C’mon, dude.

Despite Weezer’s effort to create a feel good jam of their own, fans spent early 2018 tweeting at the band to cover Toto’s “Africa.” Weezer first responded with a take on “Rosanna” (hiyo!), before delivering a faithful rendition of the desired karaoke perennial that summer. It wound up their biggest pop hit since Make Believe, “Weird” Al Yankovic assisting with a lip-sync tribute to the “Undone” video (sadly, they didn’t spring for the dogs). This surprise uptick in attention helps explain why Saturday Night Live deigned to acknowledge the debate between ‘90s devotees and the 21st century enthusiasts that Christmas.

As you’ve presumably memorized from the sketch by now, Matt Damon noted the long-awaited Black Album had a release date. But first, the band surprised dropped The Teal Album in January, “Africa” joined by nine more covers of well-known hits like “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” and “Mr. Blue Sky.” Just as the members of Toto were surprised Rivers wasn’t actually into “Africa” as much as social media engagement, the other Teal tracks were selected due to success on streaming sites, rather than personal appeal. The outcome is predictably banal, aimed at TV music supervisors more than anyone else, but Cuomo’s sulky pipes fit well not just with A-ha’s “Take On Me,” but Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” “whoo!”s and all. TLC’s “No Scrubs” and Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me” might work as well, if not for dull bursts of power chords affirming we’re hearing a rock R&B redux. (That’s actually Brian Bell doing the Ozzy imitation on Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid,” though few online resources have bothered to notice.)

The Black Album did indeed drop in March, revealing what Cuomo considered “dark,” as his “bright” album was already haunted by the usual demons. Instead of listing proper nouns and nursing blue balls, Evil Rivers is committed to achieving financial success (the single is a Latin-tinged novelty tribute to Uber drivers), obsessing about drugs, and dropping the occasional swear word. Assisted by producer Dave Sitek from TV On The Radio, The Black Album takes a promised turn away from the band’s traditional pop-rockola, experimenting with unexpectedly cold, hi-tech textures, as Rivers grumbles about zombies, backstabbers, women who get mad if you say you preferred their old haircut, and being “overwhelmed by Netflix options.” It’s as if these middle-aged, bespectacled white men made their version of a ‘10s Kanye West album: The Life of Cuomo. Some might consider it artistically daring, and it’s certainly the perfect Weezer album for a middle-aged, bespectacled white man who’s just crashed a Christmas party attended by his ex-wife, responding with a chiding chorus of “Beverly Hills” as he’s asked to leave. But time has shown Ye’s venting wasn’t worth humoring either.

Perhaps expecting backlash, Cuomo planned to shit sandwich Black between Teal and a righteous rock album named Van Weezer, which would be promoted on a “Hella Mega Tour” with Green Day and Fall Out Boy. Haters weren’t paying enough attention to bother dumping on Black specifically, but COVID delayed the tour. Van Weezer would be delayed as well, though the band released the single “Hero” as an alleged tribute to essential workers and first responders. Seemingly, no one noticed “Hero” is yet another miserable song where Rivers describes ambitions he’s accepted he’ll never achieve. How exactly is “I tried to be your hero, but I was lying to myself, I walk alone” a tribute to anyone? Forget it, Jake…it’s Cuomotown.

Once again, a surprise January release interrupted the build-up for a long hyped project, as Weezer finished the piano-based OK Human, strings recorded at Abbey Road, before Van Weezer. Strikingly novel at first blush, the album is among their most monochromatic, almost every song featuring Rivers’ familiar yearn over an uncanny valley of digitally compiled strings and clickety-clack drums. Though returning producer Jake Sinclair reportedly used Nilsson Sings Newman as inspiration, the arrangements on that classic are positively spartan compared to this oddly synthetic exercise, which might as well be MIDI-based thanks to all the tracking & tinkering.

Van Weezer finally came out in May ’21 and…it was their best since The White Album, which also dropped stinkers as singles ahead of release. Whether due to embarrassment about The Black Album’s bile, reveling in the hair metal sonics, excitement about touring, or the encouragement of producer Suzy Shinn (still in the womb when The Blue Album came out), Van Weezer (once you get past “Hero” and a “Beverly Hills” rewrite) is their most jubilant expression of manchild mania ever. These effusive valentines to youth and young love are atypically free of toxic malarkey, while loaded with hammer-ons, double-tracked guitar leads, and other tricky but unfussy twists. Briefly heard during the band’s appearance on The Simpsons, “Blue Dream” might be the Weezer’s weirdest song ever: a fraught “Octopus’ Garden” sequel sung as the band plays “Crazy Train.” I mean it. Ozzy & company credited and everything. Rivers nattering about pooping his Zubaz in front of a Joyce DeWitt lookalike? We’ve got boxes of that. But escaping heartbreak under the sea as he straight-up quotes Randy Rhoads? That’s new.

If four albums in three years felt like a lot, Rivers was on some Robert Pollard business in 2022. A week before the vernal equinox, the band announced SZNZ, a set of four twenty-minute EPs, one arriving at the dawn of each season. Quickly came SZNZ: Spring, where Rivers unleashes his inner leprechaun, giddily skipping through the shire like a dad more excited about his kid’s first Renaissance Fair than they are. Sub-Sheeran ditties like “A Little Bit Of Love” are arguably less offensive than The Black Album on paper, but could inspire even darker thoughts in long-time fans. The summer solstice brought SZNZ: Summer, even more Weezer Tull an affair, with classical allusions, fiery sentiments and complex song structures I absolutely refuse to admire. More of an issue than the non-stop foofaraw is that Cuomo’s aim was emotional consistency on each release, rather than a narrative arc. As such, we don’t know why the inane good tidings on Spring have turned into resentful rage in Summer. “Records,” the single, champions "Lana," Rihanna and Nirvana before suggesting “you can fuck off.” Another lyric: “Here in Cuomoville, we don’t need chains of gold/ leave it for the Roman soldiers in their winged chariots.” I shit you not.

Our hubristic anti-heroes fell to earth when a planned 5-day residency on Broadway in September was cancelled due to low ticket sales. The plan was to present a different chapter of SZNZ on each night, the final concert an “encore” featuring highlights from the previous nights. Thanks to Earth’s understandable indifference (especially after two EPs of hot garbage), the band settled for playing the Troubadour in LA, under their familiar alias Goat Punishment, and released SZNZ: Autumn a few days later, sans lead single. Wouldn’t you know it: Autumn is easily the best SZN. The theme is anxiety, and the sound is danceable alterna-rock…in other words, Weezer’s sweet spot. “Get Off On The Pain” might be their most meritorious confessional since Pinkerton, and “What Happens After You,” co-written by Desmond Child and the Hooter that wrote “One Of Us,” is an earworm worthy of Maroon 5 at their most commercially ruthless. 

Not that anyone was paying attention at this point. SZNZ: Winter dutifully appeared at the December solstice, opener “I Want A Dog” sadly not a Pet Shop Boys cover. “Iambic Pentameter” is rhymed with “Thelonious when he’s jammin’ it.” Lost youth is associated with basketball and Sheraton Hotels. Winter is primarily recommended to folks who wish Elliott Smith replaced Dennis DeYoung in Styx, and dislike Pinkerton because Cuomo abandoned the Songs From The Black Hole musical. If only they’d dropped a double disc named DA 4 SZNZ instead, maybe they would have gotten to play this foofaraw (so much foofaraw) on Broadway after all. But they tried to serialize the inchoate drama, and paid the price. 

The touring never stopped (openers on ’23 and ’24 jaunts included Modest Mouse, Spoon, the Flaming Lips and Dinosaur Jr., themselves opening for Smashing Pumpkins overseas), but the band was suitably humbled by the non-acclaim for SZNZ to hold off on album number “20” (while the SZNZ are under a half-hour each, Weezer now wants them referred to as albums. As the discs feel longer than they are, I’ll give it to them). The Gold Album arrived last August, promoted with a surprisingly effective “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore” duet with Wednesday, and yet another passive-aggressive apology for unpopular ambition (“I gotta grow up…give the people what they want”). I’m not rating Gold here, because it should start pt. 4 of Weezer’s Album Guide. May we all get to argue over that chapter in 2034.

So, having grown the hell up and listened to Raditude, listened to Pacific Daydream…do I remain a Leslie Jones? As the numbers make clear, I still think Weezer peaked in my adolescence. “Beverly Hills” will always be the dividing line between an alt-rock miracle and a roach-like dad-pop project, one that never even pulled off a consistent slice of commerce like Tonight I’m Yours or Pump, their cringeworthy singles rarely flattering the legend. But I have more sympathy than ever for “Ride Or Die” types, who have indeed found a unique and unpredictable idol in Rivers Cuomo.

The thing about Weezer is that their Brian Wilson and Mike Love are trapped in the same body. Cuomo is forever schizophrenically pimping his own vulnerable genius to keep the business going, or indulging pretentious whims he’ll wind up apologizing for. He’s a tender artist in love with centuries of popular song, and an insufferable dickweed doing the frug in a Hawaiian shirt at the Cheeto Arena, headlining the Still Weezin’ tour (I guess the prodigal Matt Sharp is Dennis Wilson, steadfast Pat is Carl Wilson, Brian is Al Jardine and Scott is Bruce Johnston). I’d still take off my earrings if someone said the band didn’t really take off until Scott joined. It is right and good that Pitchfork retroactively raves about The Blue Album and Pinkerton today. But I won’t mock those psyched for an upcoming release date. My hope for another 7 now springs eternal.

Pt. 1 and pt. 2 are here, in case you forgot. All comments, questions and quizzical confusion that I could think so little of SZNZ: Spring can be sent to anthonyisright at gmail dot com. I'm pretty Weezered out, though. Can you blame me?