Rivers
Cuomo is happier now-a lot happier. But it has been a journey back to that
place. It took some time to mourn Pinkerton.
"I was surprised that it wasn't
successful right off the bat," he says. "I was truly excited. I
thought we had come up with a great new sound. It seemed important and
meaningful and I thought people were going to like it. Instead, it seemed like
everybody hated it. So I was totally disappointed." He's thought a lot
about why things were different for Weezer in 1996 than in 1994. Radio changed
over those years. There was the ska kick and the swing revival. And then there
was Lilith Fair.
"It was the year of the woman,"
he says, a little ruefully, but also with a little smile. "That rudely
interrupted our whole scene. In retrospect, I don't blame anyone for not
playing Pinkerton on the radio. It seems so unradio-friendly. I don't know why
I expected it to do anything."
While Cuomo was feeling sorry for himself,
Pinkerton really was getting played on the radio. Well, sort of. By the late
'90s, while Modern Rock radio went from novelty bands to rap-metal, the
punk-pop hybrid of emo-core was cornering the college radio underground, and
the bands that secretly and not-so-secretly thrilled to Weezer were at the
forefront.
"I can only speak for myself,"
says Get Up Kids co-founder Matthew Pryor. "I was a Weezer fan from the
get-go, and when Pinkerton came out, I was just as excited. We'd get
interviewed for fanzines, and [the writers] would ask us who we listened to and
we'd mention Weezer and a couple other bands. Underground cult successes happen
all the time; look at The Rocky Horror Picture Show."
But it was interesting to see a band who
were dismissed by many as spent radio-fodder access a fanatical underground
following. When ultra-obscure photocopied fanzines with names like 3rd Arm
Electricity say things along the lines of, "We know [Pinkerton]
is on a major label, but it's completely fantastic," it flies directly
against the grain of indie-Land's hardline major-labels-are-evil rhetoric."Good
music transcends all boundaries," opines Pryor. "People tend to
forget
about their political convictions against the industry if they really like a
song. And that's all Weezer's about-liking the songs and having a good time.
And there shouldn't be anything wrong with that."
Cuomo and Bell readily admit they don't
know anything about emo. They seem to be a little mystified by the embrace.
"I don't know exactly what that genre entails," says Bell. "I
thought it meant like Fugazi. I liked the first two Fugazi albums, but I
certainly didn't think we sounded like that."
As for bands like the Promise Ring and the
Get Up Kids, "those are bands I haven't even heard," says Bell.
"They're one of my sister's favorite bands, though. I'm going to get to
hear the Get Up Kids every night because we're playing with them, too."
They're bringing a young emo band, Osma,(sic) on the road, as well. And while
Cuomo has bought some of the indie records that have earned Weezer comparisons,
he's just as confused as his bandmates about the whole thing. "I don't
really know what it means, either," he says. "I think most of those
bands really have their own identities and strong characteristics independent
from us. Maybe I can hear a little influence, but it's not like we're Nirvana
spawning the grunge generation or anything. I think it's a lot more subtle than
that."
Had Cuomo known what was going on, he
might not have been so down. Instead, his first step back from malaise was
moving to Los Angeles. "I'm really happy here," the Connecticut
native says. "L.A. is just so congenial to my nature. The air is brisk and
you feel alive. Whereas back in Connecticut and Boston, you're either dying
from the cold or the heat and
humidity.
You're just fighting to survive. Here, the air is always invigorating. You feel
like kicking ass. When you think about it, say out of the last 10 years, how
many important bands have come out of the Northeast compared to the West Coast?
Think of a handful? Think of any? It's just so much more conducive to
creativity here."
The songs spurred the band to take the
nervous plunge into performing
live
again. Kind of. Secret shows were played under a series of hilarious names
(Goat Punishment was definitely the best), and the sets included covers of
everything from Iron Maiden to Oasis. "I
think the most important thing was getting back out there and playing shows
again," says Cuomo. "Put it all on the line. Get all the criticism
and get all the praise. That's when you feel like the gun is at your head and
you'd better get your act together. That was the catalyst that really made it
all happen."
Weezer's appearance on last year's Warped
Tour wouldn't have happened if their manager hadn't gone to the tour organizers
to try to sneak them on the bill. Cuomo says this was the deal: They wouldn't
get paid and they had to travel in a van. "Believe me, It was
torturous," he said. "It was downright terrifying going out there the
first few times, because our self-esteem was at an all-time low, combined with
the fact that that's not really our crowd. That's a punk crowd and they're notorious
for voicing their opinions if they're not into you. When we showed up that
first day, Lunachicks were on. The announcer said, 'Coming up later, Weezer,'
and the whole place went crazy. That's when we knew we were going to be
safe." The Warped crowds were delirious. An entire generation of fans for
whom Weezer were a legendary, seminal band actually got to see a group they
never imagined would play live again. "Yeah, well, you can't blame them if
they thought that," Cuomo says. "We were just as happy to see them."
Buoyed by the Warped success, Cuomo
decided he was ready to make the third record, and the band spent much of this
winter in the studio with Ocasek. Still terrified of the Napster file-sharing
service, the band's label made only six songs available to this writer for a
one-time only listen. But the songs from that cursory preview suggest a fine
melding of the two albums: as poppy and vibrant as the first, as immediate as
the second.
"I suppose we're going to be asked
this question a lot," Cuomo sighs, when asked where the new album falls in
relation to the first two. "I don't think there's an easy mathematical
answer. I guess maybe it's halfway between the two records, but a I it tie
closer to the [first] record." The
songs have titles like "Oh Girlfriend," (sic) "Don't Let
Go," "Hash Pipe," "Gimme Some Love,"
"Starlight" and "Islands In The Sun." (sic) But while the
sound is instantly recognizable, what's different is the lyrical perspective.
Whereas Pinkerton sounded like
Cuomo's therapy sessions, this as yet-untitled album is a little more vague,
and certainly not ripped straight from his personal journals, a la Pinkerton's
"Across The Sea". The sentiments here are much less specific:
"I'm lost with out your love"; "I miss you/And I wonder how you
feel about me too"; "It makes me feel so fine."
"Lyrical themes? I don't know. I
guess I'm still writing about the same stuff. No growth there," Cuomo
observes in a moment of self-deprecation. "'Hash Pipe' is about being a
transvestite prostitute, which is something I've never written about before.
That's the first time I ever wrote a song telling a story from a fictional
point of view instead of a real life experience. I mean, yeah, it's definitely
less personal." "Except 'Hash Pipe,'" interjects Karl Koch, the
band's long time roadie and fifth member. "Fucker," retorts Cuomo,
proving that he's funny when he wants to be. "Maybe that was what I did in
1999. Yeah, now I remember..