Monday.
Obviously big things have been happening. Not being a big person, I feel I have no authority with which to comment on the situation with anything of consequence. All I will say is that the last 10 years have been very long and strange. I remember where I was then and I'll remember where I was last night.
Moving on.
I the interest of being as light and fluffy as possible, how's about we take a look even farther back than everyone else today? Let's shoot some fish in a barrel. Let's go back beyond the beginning, into an untouched part of the 90s that I obsess over while the media continues covering the last 10 years. To cut to the chase, I was a huge Weezer fan. Their debut album will always be a slice of solid gold to me, the very definition of a Desert Island disc. But while that album has been on the receiving end of endless praise and adoration, ever more hipster love has been thrown at the damaged and raw follow up, Pinkerton. Absolutely all of it is deserved as well. While I love the Blue Album for its flawless songs, it's this intriguing and flawed record of emotional discord that fascinates me more with its broken edges and fuzzy instruments. I was out with friends this weekend and the establishment where we ended the night played the album in its entirety, which got me thinking about just how good this album is and how amazing it was that the world at large rejected it outright. Let's go in for a closer look, shall we?
Released in 1996, Pinkerton shows the emotional turmoil lead singer and guitarist Rivers Cuomo was enduring at the time of its production. While the debut album by the band was a series of tightly crafted pop songs encased in warm distortion with insane hooks, here we saw the sweet and harmless band become frayed and aggressive. It was a surprising move. Not to say they completely broke their mold (they could have done death metal or hip hop) but it was certainly in stark contrast to the cheery, if self-deprecating, tunes with which they made names for themselves. Over fifteen years later, you either know the story at this point or don't' - Rivers was an unhappy mess and his songs reflected this head state. In the past he as described releasing this album as spilling your guts out at a party after having too much to drink, thinking its a great idea at the time but then waking in the morning to the embarrassing reality of spilling one's guts to a crowded room. The rest of the anecdote should include, though, that your friends contact you later to say that whatever dirty laundry you aired was revelatory and insightful and endearing. Basically Rivers needed a hug and was too upset to realize it. So while he was living down the repercussions of making an incredibly personal record that (at the time) was a commercial flop, the rest of the world slowly but inevitably warmed up to it.
I remember vividly the day I sat in a friends car, realizing she was listening to Pinkerton. It was shocking, not only for this particular friend to break out of her jam-band comfort zone, but that it was with this particular album. What was most shocking, though, was realizing just how amazingly good the album was, coming back to it. In the intervening years my own sense of musical appreciation had grown, my expectations and tastes had changed. I could see not only the reason for the distortion but the amazing quality of the songs hidden beneath it. The songs themselves were raucous, honest songs about heartache, loneliness and feeling old before your time. Not only are the songs well constructed compositions, but their specific elements elevate them to greater heights. There are so many great little parts of each song! The breakdown at the end of 'Tired of Sex' where the drums switch to half-time, the middle eight of 'Getchoo' where the whole band begins a pulsing, juggernaut march, the chunky & stuttering last chorus of 'Pink Triangle' or the way Rivers sings the word "me" in the first line of 'Across The Sea' - these are all little moments that happen just once per song but it makes the song. They stand out for their special, unique flavors they add. I can totally see why this album was so detested upon its initial release but it's so painfully obvious, listening to it now, why it's so fantastic.
I know this is the defining album for the center of the hipster/Weezer Venn diagram - I really don't care. I kinda dug a couple songs when it first came out but quickly dismissed it for not sounding like the first album. Like everyone else my age, I came rushing back to it right after the millennium. It's funny to think it was ahead of its time, yet there's nothing particularly futuristic or avant-garde about it, so what was the problem? Was it too raw for their fan base at the time? Who knows. What matters is we realized we missed it the first time around and came back to it. It's phenomenal, but you probably already knew that, didn't you?
Obviously big things have been happening. Not being a big person, I feel I have no authority with which to comment on the situation with anything of consequence. All I will say is that the last 10 years have been very long and strange. I remember where I was then and I'll remember where I was last night.
Moving on.
I the interest of being as light and fluffy as possible, how's about we take a look even farther back than everyone else today? Let's shoot some fish in a barrel. Let's go back beyond the beginning, into an untouched part of the 90s that I obsess over while the media continues covering the last 10 years. To cut to the chase, I was a huge Weezer fan. Their debut album will always be a slice of solid gold to me, the very definition of a Desert Island disc. But while that album has been on the receiving end of endless praise and adoration, ever more hipster love has been thrown at the damaged and raw follow up, Pinkerton. Absolutely all of it is deserved as well. While I love the Blue Album for its flawless songs, it's this intriguing and flawed record of emotional discord that fascinates me more with its broken edges and fuzzy instruments. I was out with friends this weekend and the establishment where we ended the night played the album in its entirety, which got me thinking about just how good this album is and how amazing it was that the world at large rejected it outright. Let's go in for a closer look, shall we?
I remember vividly the day I sat in a friends car, realizing she was listening to Pinkerton. It was shocking, not only for this particular friend to break out of her jam-band comfort zone, but that it was with this particular album. What was most shocking, though, was realizing just how amazingly good the album was, coming back to it. In the intervening years my own sense of musical appreciation had grown, my expectations and tastes had changed. I could see not only the reason for the distortion but the amazing quality of the songs hidden beneath it. The songs themselves were raucous, honest songs about heartache, loneliness and feeling old before your time. Not only are the songs well constructed compositions, but their specific elements elevate them to greater heights. There are so many great little parts of each song! The breakdown at the end of 'Tired of Sex' where the drums switch to half-time, the middle eight of 'Getchoo' where the whole band begins a pulsing, juggernaut march, the chunky & stuttering last chorus of 'Pink Triangle' or the way Rivers sings the word "me" in the first line of 'Across The Sea' - these are all little moments that happen just once per song but it makes the song. They stand out for their special, unique flavors they add. I can totally see why this album was so detested upon its initial release but it's so painfully obvious, listening to it now, why it's so fantastic.
