Raditude, Weezer’s questionably-titled seventh album, hit stores yesterday — and it is silly pop music. But that’s okay, because Leighton Meester is on board. Come on, Blair! Don’t you know it’s so not cool to like a band’s recent work? You have to roll your eyes and talk about how only their old stuff is good. And like any group of self-respecting elitists, the Pitchfork reviewers (primarily Rob Mitchum, but the two other dudes who have reviewed Weezer albums in the last ten years too) hate hate hate every Weezer album after Pinkerton. Hate them.
As of today, Weezer’s five most recent albums are reviewed on Pitchfork, and none of them got above a 5.4. Each of the reviews features the writer whining desperately about how much he loved The Blue Album and Pinkerton, how much those albums affected his life, and how destroyed he is over Weezer’s decline. Snooze!
Check out our top ten of Pitchfork’s must cutthroat Weezer zings below. We imagine Rivers Cuomo sitting at home in his Wuggie reading these and crying. Maybe knitting a sweater.
10.“At this point, Weezer is as much a brand as a band. When Cuomo relinquishes the mic, The Red Album could be by any group of modern-rock mediocrities.” Meanness Level: 2.3
9. “All together, [Raditude] sounds like the first record ever written with the goal expressly in mind of being kick-ass to play on Rock Band. The departures from that formula are harder to stomach, particularly the Bollywood-drenched Hallmark card ‘Love Is the Answer,’ which is absolutely awful. ” Meanness Level: 6.1
8. “I listened to [‘Hash Pipe’], from beginning to end. And when it ended, I said no. I said no no no no no. No! Weezer! NO!! Where has Rivers Cuomo gone? What has he done? What has happened to Weezer?! WHERE ARE THE REAL WEEZER?!! My heart was broken. Really. This is going to sound like hyperbole, but I hated music at that moment. For just a moment, I lost faith completely.” Meanness Level: 4.7 (-1 for hyperbole)
7. “Right from the start of Make Believe, when Weezer lurches into a flaccid take on Joan Jett’s ‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ with an unfathomably horrible speak/sing vocal from Rivers Cuomo (think ‘I like girls who wear Abercrombie & Fitch’), you can hear hundreds of critics mouthing ‘no no no’ and going into crumpled shock. What’s more disconcerting is that the song gets worse over the course of its three minutes (let’s just say ‘Framptonesque voicebox solo’ and get back to repressing the memory) — and it’s the album’s first single.” Meanness Level: 6.8
6. “Whether recycling dynamics from the band’s back catalog (see: ‘Perfect Situation’) or taking the easy Mother Goose rhyme (see: every fucking song here), these 12 tracks [of Make Believe] sound as if they were dashed off in an afternoon’s work, maybe with Rubin holding the band at gunpoint.” Meanness Level: 5.5 (+1 for swearing)
5. “Stripping down to the basics is one thing, but removing almost every element and characteristic that separated the band from the other million quartets-with-guitars is a sad, sad sight to see.” [Maladroit] Meanness Level: 4.0
4. “[‘Hash Pipe’] was abysmal, no two ways about it. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t charming. It didn’t have dueling guitar solos with soaring and intricate harmonies. And what it wasn’t made it what it was: stale, polished, emotionless.” Meanness Level: 7.9
3. “[Raditude]’s teen-boy empowerment message doesn’t have much to offer anyone over 13 years old. Perhaps the proper fictional character to reference isn’t Peter Pan, but Matthew McConaughey’s Wooderson from Dazed and Confused — we all get older, Rivers Cuomo stays the same age.” Meanness Level: 6.3
2. “[Cuomo is] whoah-oh-ohing a whole lot in lieu of coming up with coherent or interesting thoughts.” [Make Believe] Meanness Level: 8.6
1. “It’s unoriginal, moronic and tacky, and that’s all there is to it. Nothing under the surface. Disappointment.” [The Green Album] Meanness Level: 9.3 (moronic and tacky!)
Ouch.
It’s going to be okay, Pitchfork. We heard that Weezer is working on a re-issue of your beloved Pinkerton, with demos and outtakes to boot! Your thirteen-year-old selves will rejoice again.