I’m done defending Rivers Cuomo. I stood by him when he put out two bad albums in a row, I stood by him when he took time off from being a rock star to get a degree at Harvard, I stood by him when he wanted to sing about being in high school over and over and over again. I’m done, okay?
Rumor Mill Central has it that Weezer’s latest album Hurley has nothing to do with Jorge Garcia, the loveable fatso from TV’s Lost, despite the aforesaid fatso’s face on the record’s cover. Nope, it’s all about Hurley International, a clothing company that financed the record and has teamed with Weezer for a branded campaign selling the band, in conjunction with t-shirts, to easily rooked kids. Pretty punk rock.
Want to rub your face in the gravel some more? This is Weezer’s first album for punk rock stalwart label Epitaph Records.
But forget about that for a minute, and ask: How is the album? In the past, Weezer’s albums have always been good for at least a few earworms, right? Unfortunately, on a song-by-song basis, Hurley is the band’s weakest album since Make Believe.
“Trainwrecks” tries to sound dangerous, but comes off as clinical – no doubt how a song about the titular subject matter would sound as dissected by a snake oil salesman with a Harvard degree like Cuomo. “Unspoken” sounds like the product of a bunch of over-the-hill pop stars gathered together in a garage without benefit of proper acoustics, sound equipment, and/or Auto-Tune – until the end, when it’s suddenly the music from a trailer to a Michael Bay film. “Where’s My Sex?” wants to be funny and slightly edgy, but its angular guitar attack makes the band sound like they’re aping Creed. And the less said about “Ruling Me,” the better. Even the bonus tracks, which include a tepid live cover of Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida,” stink.
Opening song (and lead single) “Memories” carries couplets like “playing hackey-sack back when Audioslave was still Rage.” Listen, you little bitch, I remember when Rage was opening Lollapalooza and were dismissed by Rolling Stone as, and I quote with glee, a “relative unknown.”
You know what else I remember? When Weezer was good.
I remember a geeky looking four piece I took my little sister to see (they were opening for Live, remember them? Shut up) tearing through “My Name Is Jonas” at the Tilles Center like dinner depended on it. Shit, my sister, who was there for the main act, left after their first song because they just didn’t measure up. That band’s name was Weezer.
Where the fuck did that band go?
