Aging rocker nerds finally grow up
“Weezer” (“The Red Album”)
Interscope Records, Release date: 3 June 2008
By Jerilyn Covert
By the time I really got into music, the ’90s had nearly come and gone, but I imagine the response to Weezer’s “The Blue Album” in 1994 must have gone something like this: In the wake of a grunge-obsessed music scene, the sweetly unrefined voice of Rivers Cuomo, every bit as exposed and threadbare as the sweater he sings about in “Undone,” begins suddenly to emanate from the airwaves, like a “Hallelujah” angel chorus from above, and angst-ridden teens everywhere stop dead in their Doc Martin tracks to enjoy a rare moment of pop-induced repose. At least, that visualization roughly illustrates of impact Weezer had on me. Their songs were unlike anything I had ever heard before–quirky but catchy, with lyrics that ranged from amusingly tongue-in-cheek to dreamily evocative. Even “Pinkerton,” 1996’s concept album about Weezer’s quick and bittersweet rise to fame that initially received poor reviews, turned out to be ahead of its time and went on to achieve cult status. Since then, Weezer has come out with four more full-length albums, none of which has quite been able to recapture the magic of those first two. Still, the most recent addition, “The Red Album,” which came out on Tuesday, is head-bobbing, fun, adventurous and often heartwarming. Compared to the greatness of 15 years ago the album hits some of the same notes, but also reaches into new territory by virtue of looking back to that bygone era in which Weezer first rose to stardom.
The red-covered album rounds out the band’s eponymous trio, joining the aforementioned “The Blue Album” and 2001’s “The Green Album.” Rick Rubin rejoins the band to produce most of the album, while Jacknife Lee and the band itself get producer credits, as well. The sound of Weezer’s latest effort is instantly recognizable as their own, complete with fuzzy guitar riffs and catchy lyrical hooks. The fact that they haven’t tried to reinvent themselves is underscored by some of the lyrics. In the opening track, “Troublemaker,” a power-pop anthem that takes aim against mediocrity, Rivers declares that he’ll do things his own way and never give up. At the song’s climax, Rivers is in full rage-against-the-machine mode, crooning with all the fiery conviction of every boy who’s ever dreamed of becoming a rock star: “I’m gonna be a star and people will crane necks/ To get a glimpse of me to see if I am having sex/ And studying my moves to try to understand/ Why I am so unlike the singers in the other bands/ I’m such a mystery as anyone can see/ There isn’t anybody else exactly quite like me/ And when it’s party time like 1999/ I’ll party by myself because I’m such a special guy.” The sentiment, which carefully tows the line between arrogance and irony, carries into the following track, the aptly titled “The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn).” This vast-sweeping, uncharacteristically epic montage opens with “Tis a Gift To Be Simple” on the piano and breaks into heavy percussion accompanied by sirens in the background. Reminiscent of The Beatles’ “Good Morning,” the 6-minute number encompasses multiple musical parts, including spiritual hymns, audience cheers and spoken word, and at one point, Weezer even borrows their own melody from “Surf Wax America.” The whole wacky ensemble may be just over-the-top enough for us to forgive Rivers’ egotism: “I can’t help myself cuz I was born to shine/ If you don’t like it you can shove it/ But you don’t like it you love it.” But by the third track, the familiar sounding “Pork and Beans,” the whole “I don’t care what you think about me” routine, like the music, is getting a little stale. There was a time when Rivers’ repeated chants, “I don’t care, I don’t care,” could have been interpreted as the insurgence of a generation, but here, he simply comes off sounding indifferent and bored. And the reference to modern-day mega-producer Timbaland isn’t subversive so much as it betrays the fact that Weezer hasn’t reached the top of the charts in years.
Because while the music industry has changed drastically in the last 15 years, a part of Weezer has always remained firmly rooted in the past, in an era that Rivers still pines for in the incredibly nostalgic and sincerely felt “Heart Songs.” You can’t exactly blame them for wanting to stay true to the mantra that made them famous in the first place. And how many of us twenty- and thirty-somethings still struggle with the realities of growing up? Maybe Rivers does speak for a generation, after all–a generation that still remembers what it was like to hear Nirvana for the first time. And perhaps not unlike the maturity-stunted youth in “Dreamin,” the band mates could be less concerned with flying to the top of the charts, than they are with flying off to Never-Never Land. Still, that doesn’t change the quality of the album. “Heart Songs” and “Dreamin” are both beautiful tracks that move the album away from defiant silliness and into the realm of sincerity (except for “Everybody Get Dangerous,” a strange, Red Hot Chili Peppers knockoff that seems out of sync with the rest of the album). For the first time, members of the band other than Rivers lend their songwriting and vocal capabilities to some tracks. Guitarist Brian Bell sings “Thought I Knew,” a catchy ditty he also wrote that loosely narrates the story of a former relationship with a person whom, he now realizes, he never knew as well as he thought he did. Drummer Patrick Wilson wrote and assumed lead vocals on “Automatic,” a playful yet rockin’ number.Rivers teamed up with his bassist Scott Shriner to write “Cold Dark World,” an impassioned, dusty, ballad that writhes with all the desperation and longing that its title suggests. One of my favorites on the entire album, the song is addressed to an “angel girl” whom the singer wishes to be with, and together, he imagines they would conquer and overcome all the maladies of this cold, dark world. Opening with a soft acoustic hum, the melody builds and throbs to a climax at the part where Shriner, nearly yelling, sings, “It might take a while to get with the style of/ Life at the end of the miracle mile/ But you’re gonna love the rising above/ All the trash that is sweeping you under the rug.” You can almost see Shriner, with his fists clenched, standing in a rainy gale and howling at the moon.
The angel vision makes a reappearance for the final number, “The Angel and the One,” my other personal favorite, which, at nearly 7 minutes, is the longest on the album. By now, Cuomo’s candor has crossed over into a spiritual realm. The pretty melody begins softly and slowly builds, eventually surging into chants of “Peace. Shalom,” and finally falling away again, into meditative quietude. Maybe he’s talking about a former lover, but Cuomo might as well be talking about his former life, and leaving it behind, when he sings, “It’s not my destiny to be the one that you will lay with/ So many reasons why I have to go but want to stay here. . . . There is some other love that I would rather be obeying/ I see the ecstasy and already I’m anticipating. . . . I’ve reached a higher place that no one else can make a claim in/ I’ll take you there, my friend/ I’m reaching out my hand so take it/ We are the angels and we are the ones that are praying.” And with this beautifully heartfelt piece that digs deeper even as Cuomo sings higher, Weezer proves that for all their high achievements, they’ve finally managed to attain something that, no number of record sales or radio hits, but only the passage of time can allow–the ability to move on.