Rivers Cuomo could easily be the most ridiculous rock star in the history of the music industry. The same man who occasionally takes a break from recording best-selling music to study at Harvard (he’s almost got his degree), has an almost creepy obsession with Asian women and reportedly sold all of his possessions a year ago to move into a small apartment where he had little more than his sleeping bag, is back on the charts with the rest of his nerdy Weezer cohorts with Make Believe.
While Cuomo is without any doubt a strange little man, his musical prowess has never been in question. Ever since Weezer’s breakthrough hit “Buddy Holly” back in 1994, the group has had a decent amount of success, especially among the all-important college and high school crowds.
After releasing its last two albums in 2001 and 2002, Weezer suddenly disappeared from the musical radar. Rivers had decided to put the band on the backburner again to get in a few semesters of studying, while some of his bandmates decided to pursue their own side projects. Drummer Pat Wilson toured with the Special Goodness and guitarist Brian Bell worked with his band the Space Twins. Bassist Scott Shriner likely went back into hibernation with his fellow cavemen.
A while ago word got out that Rivers was back in the saddle, ready to finally record the follow-up to the rather lackluster Maladroit. Weezer’s new album takes some inspiration from past records, combining aspects of Pinkerton and Green, with a hint of Maladroit mixed in for taste. The result is quite possibly one of Weezer’s best albums yet, showcasing a tremendous amount of artistic growth for both Rivers and the rest of the group.
Kicking off with “Beverly Hills,” the album’s first single, Cuomo’s lyrics maintain the same self-doubting emotional tinge that fans have come to know and love-or-hate. Rivers sings of being a “no-class beat down fool” and how he “just doesn’t belong.”
The main difference between the underlying feel of the new songs and that of older material is Rivers’ remorse. It’s long been touted by fans of the group that Rivers is, for lack of a better term, an arrogant snob. He is notorious for blowing off fans and journalists alike, feeling no obligation to worry about anyone but himself. For one reason or another it appears that he’s had a change of heart and spends much of Make Believe apologizing to people.
The chorus of “Pardon Me,” echoes his newfound politeness: “So I apologize to you / And to anyone else that I hurt too / I may not be a perfect soul / But I can learn self control.” Sung over the familiar wave of Weezer guitars, the emotional vibe of this track makes it feel as though it could easily have come straight from Pinkerton.
Other tracks showcase Cuomo letting out his inner frightened child (“Hold Me”) and sounding off on the heavy drug use in society (“We Are All on Drugs”). The group also seems to channel The Cars with the new-wave sounding “This is Such a Pity.”
Perhaps the best candidate for second single of Make Believe is “Perfect Situation,” the disc’s second track. Adding keyboard to the rest of the band’s sound may bring a bit of a Coldplay vibe, but the song’s chorus of “Oh-oh-oh’s” is vintage Weezer.
While much of the disc showcases Weezer at its finest, a few tracks do fall short of the bar. Of notable mention is “My Best Friend,” possibly one of the worst tracks Weezer has ever recorded. For some strange reason, this sounds like it was written for some sort of buddy-Disney movie. The lyrics are among the shallowest of the entire disc: “You’re my best friend / And I love you / And I love you / Yes I do.” Not exactly awe-inspiring, but one bad song doesn’t entirely kill the mood of an otherwise solid album.
Although Make Believe isn’t necessarily the monumental release many hoped it would be, it definitely shouldn’t be missed. Longtime Weezer fans will be elated at the progress the group has made since Maladroit, while fans of pop-rock will certainly be able to find a few songs on the disc that hit the spot.
Grade: A/B
