Weezer's Glory Days
History is not inevitable. In 1996, Rivers Cuomo could have not only gone on hiatus, but also retired. He was the awkwardly endearing twenty-six year old who only two years earlier had written the genre-defining Blue Album to critical acclaim; the painfully shy philosophy major who, while recovering from an excruciating surgery in his cold Harvard dorm room, wrote twelve of the most important emo tracks of the 90s; the singer whose melodies were at once heartbreaking and hopeful, whose considerable shredding ability was reserved for only the most poignant leads, the most moving chords. Across the Sea, Pink Triangle, Only in Dreams; all three whisk me away to those dark periods of teenage isolation when I was delivered from despair by Rivers’ unforgettable hooks and yearning vocals.
How Rivers Cuomo Lost his Mind
Now imagine that same man twelve years later with a mustache, a cowboy hat, and a backlog of forgettable albums. That’s a little harder. Probably because in 1996 there was absolutely no reason why a reclusive prodigy would don western wear, replace the pathos of his former music with lines like “I’ll eat my candy with the pork and beans,” and host poorly framed “interactive” song writing sessions on YouTube.
Youtube and Genius: A Lesson in Inverse Proportionality
Can you imagine what the White Album would have looked like if Paul McCartney had asked thousands of bloggers how "Julia" should go? If Robert Plant had mugged in front of a cheap webcam and had fans plug in the verses to "Immigrant Song"? What makes an album amazing, besides talent and originality, is its initial shock on fans who have eagerly awaited its release. Interactive songwriting is like taking someone aside and telling them where they should laugh in the unfunny story you’re about to tell.
How to still listen to Weezer and not feel embarrassed
2002’s Maladroit was the beginning of the end, though nothing compared to 2005’s Make Believe or Rivers' Red Album endgame. I had serious doubts when Rivers was jamming with the Muppets, but cowboy Cuomo is beyond the pale. The only way I can enjoy listening to Pinkerton these days is to tell myself that the real Rivers retired in 1996, and that the complete embarrassment who looks like him and talks like him today is actually an advanced Cuomo simulacrum whose sole task is to prove how absolutely bankrupt modern rock has become.
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