When I heard Weezer’s new song Pork and Beans - I was hit with a strange feeling. Every now and then, you’ll get these odd feelings - it’s hard to describe exactly how they feel, but it’s somewhere in between deja-vous and having your head forcibly shoved into a box filled with dead eagles and ospreys. Am I getting closer? The first thing to come to my mind was, “pork” and “beans” are two absolutely hideous words, and there’s nothing pleasant about hearing them in a song, at all. The second was, Weezer has beaten the three-chord, guitar-sludge rhythm to far beyond a pulp. If it was a dead horse, it wouldn’t be a dead horse, but a horse-shaped indentation in the ground with some fur and bone fragments at the bottom.
Not only does it have a really horrible, forced bridge - as in, “uh, I guess we have to put a bridge in the song, so let’s change the chords now,” but the lyrics are something that a middle school kid would write.
Maybe that’s what Weezer’s appeal was all about to begin with, but it’s not working any more. Rivers Cuomo, have you given up all your motivation ever since marrying that hot Japanese woman? We all know that the driving force of rock and roll is pussy, and the more of it you have, the shittier your music tends to become. The best rock music is a desperate mating call - the worst is the comfortable humming of someone surrounded by cash and cunt.
Awful. Absolutely awful! “The Red Album.” Go stick it in your ear, Weezer.
Ugh. I’ve got a deadline for an article tomorrow for the phys-ed magazine I’m writing for, and it’s about this program to create a “scavenger hunt” to motivate college freshmen to become physically active, only the whole project is for some utterly bizarre reason shrouded in secrecy as if it were put together in Area 51. When I interviewed the woman in charge, it was like talking to a goddamn KGB agent on nitrous oxide - it was entertaining but I could hardly get any usable material for it. What is it about this program that is so cloak-and-dagger that they’re unable to “reveal” the details of it? I’m going to have to find some way of spinning this for the story, and it’s going to start with a few glasses of whiskey. Ah, writing.
Or at least three years ago when the horrid Make Believe was released? Weezer has long ago changed classifications in my mind. Old classification: A great band with a couple of missteps. Now: A mediocre band with a couple of lucky flashes.