The appeal of Weezer has always lain in their refusal to give a shit about what might be cool, impressive or even vaguely acceptable.
Their deliriously poppy take on rock is uplifting, overwhelmingly positive even at its most self-loathing, and flies the flag for geek pride. A case in point on Hurley (nothing, they claim, to do with the clothing brand) comes in the shape of the infectious Smart Girls, a song that lusts after women not prized for their looks, their slenderness or their dress sense, but for their brains.
Despite the band hitting middle age, Weezer’s music fizzes with adolescent excitement, opener Memories damp-eyed about the minutiae of toilet-venue tours while thankful for a more comfortable way of life these days. There’s not a chorus that doesn’t embed itself instantly into your brain, sifting through the best bits of the last 50 years of teenage rebellion. And for all their pop chops, there’s an acerbic, razor-sharp undertone to dysfunctional paeans such as Trainwrecks.
A bonus-track cover of Coldplay’s Viva La Vida is kind of sickly, but generally this album is yet another celebration of a band so comfortable in their own skin that you can’t help but follow their example.
