For me, all bands should sound like Weezer. I love the energy of songs that sound as if they are being played in the garage. It brings back great memories of doing the same myself (though with much less quality!). On the face of it there are the pop sensibilities of guitar, bass, drums and vocals, but an underlying ambition drives the whole thing forward.
Buying their first album in 1994 was a milestone in my musical heritage. Predictably, I came to it because of Buddy Holly, but I have stayed with it ever since because of Undone (the Sweater Song) and Say it Ain't So and every other track. I have been quick to buy any subsequent albums ... but not Pinkerton.
It is wildly illogical, but for some reason I never got around to buying Pinkerton which is often remarked as the band's best album.
I now find myself in the position of laying my hands on a masterpiece that I have never known. Imagine that The Beatles snuck in an album in between Revolver and Sgt Peppers and it had only just been made available. That is the excitement I'm now faced with.
I'm trapped on a long flight to San Francisco and making the most of the trip to listen to an album that has inexplicably passed me by. I can remember reading the rave reviews about it. I can remember being intrigued about Rivers Cuomo's break from Weezer to study classical music at Harvard University. I can remember standing in front of it in Our Price and choosing another album. I can't remember what the other album was.
There is no doubt that I really enjoy this album. But the pervading emotion is one of regret. This is an album that was written for the 15-17 year old me. This album should have been the soundtrack to my melancholy years but for some inexplicable reason, I ignored it.
The sound on the album is darker than typical Weezer. The guitars have more fuzz and are louder in the mix requiring the vocals to strain to be heard, which brings out the desperation of the lyrics. It's an incredible mix of garage band meets emotion and intelligence. The essence of why I adore Weezer.
Before I get too carried away, those years life had a great soundtrack which allowed me to wallow in the atrocities I faced (typically rejection by girls or more accurately perceived rejection as I liked to create my own dramas without the inconvenience of incurring rejection!). This music sticks with me today, like good friends who were always there when you need them.
So today I find myself greatly enjoying the album, but knowing that I'm missing the fundamental emotional connection to make this part of my lifeblood. I will be filing for future reference to pass to my son. What a weird moment that will be: "here you go son, here's a load of music to make you feel better when you think the world hates you". I'm sure I need to find a smarter way of doing that.
For now, I picture myself in my old bedroom, listening to the album and writing very bad poetry. Oh Pinkerton, we would have been so good together...