Review Summary: The testimony of Cuomo's daydream.
We all know Weezer and we all know what they do, but for a band that expresses itself on guileless escapism and unadorned, naïve charm, their back catalogue is abnormally volatile and erratic. Their sound is unconventionally streamlined, but rather than crafting their outlook to suit their enthusiastic 90’s niche audience and working from there, they grasp their worldview and impetuously station it under any context that they deem suitable. They disregard any apprehensions for circumstance or consequence, by dedicated fans or those just those who are willing to accept their accommodating but impulsive disposition.
Why do they do this? It eventually comes down to the unfortunate incidence that Cuomo’s perception of the world and his testament through his music, his conception and execution, become so indecipherable to each other during the creation process that both lose all sense of the intention of the other. His envisioned and actual outcomes have almost no correspondence, leaving Weezer fans with little reassurance of whether each new release will deliver on its conceived exemplar or it will be another product of the shortcoming between Cuomo’s brain and his fingers, his daydream.
That is not to say that when Weezer’s ever-changing perception and identity suits their audience they aren’t successful – why else would they be acknowledged as one of the most defiant and virtuous groups to come out of the post-grunge era? Their 1994 self-titled debut was seen as an epitome of graceful inelegance as the group pushed their fondness for colossal, grinding guitar work and harmonious Beach Boys-esque melodies, and all of the band’s efforts since that correlate with those that were visibly gratified by that album have been at least acknowledged. An example is their 2014 comeback Everything Will Be Alright in The End, which found the band recognizing their natural course once again after losing something between those years after aspiring for the upper echelons of the mainstream music scene. Don’t ask what he was thinking around that period (especially Raditude) but somewhere in the collaborative effort of making those albums, Cuomo lost sight of the focus of what he was aiming for, because, come on. Raditude? He either forgot he was working with Weezer or he got Butch Walker or Jermaine Dupri to give him a name. Either way, he lost sight of the process.
However, it is surprisingly incredible when the band can translate their awkward juxtapositions and dissolutions into a different mentality and actually achieve the purpose they aspired for in the first place. The band had succeeded on a more straightforward and creatively nurturing process on EWBAITE and 2016’s White Album, but our first single “Feels Like Summer,” represented an early warning sign to fans that Cuomo’s idealistic pop awareness and visions were already disfigured from reality, that his promise of the upcoming Black Album as*“feeling like an urban environment, night-time and gritty” meant more EDM sampling. Great. But underneath the full-blown production clustery, “Feels Like Summer” was the same charming pop-rock they had been churning out since Green, albeit slower and more expectedly pop-melodramatic. But the awkward allusions in his descriptions of female relationships were there, and his gloomy, effective melodies were there (although wrangled of life by the cluttered synth arrangements) and there was an effective mood that he was aiming for, and it worked, although so close you could taste it. And the acoustic version, released later, showed all that. Free of overproduction and pandering, this version was presented as a bleak “Endless Bummer” style acoustic ballad, and it felt much more like what the original was trying to do. Cuomo’s vocal’s sound much more powerful when not surrounded by messy synth, electronic drums and worthless sampling, when boiled down to acoustic guitar and shakers and when the song relies on the vocal, exactly like the acoustic versions of “Can’t Stop Partying,” and “I Don’t Want to Let You Go” from Raditude. Cuomo would eventually delay the Black Album as he was moving new material between two different album concepts, and finished Pacific Daydream first. Cuomo still insisted on using the original “Feels Like Summer” for the new record, but for the bulk of Daydream, the band take a more straightforward approach to both song writing and production, and depending on your analysis of their past output that can be good or bad.
On a surface level, Daydream somewhat thrives as a document of a band satisfied enough with their expression to scrutinize the most substantial elements of their work and cultivate new ones. Almost all of Daydream adequately follows the bands new straightforwardly charismatic pop-rock formula, and unlike their shamelessly obedient pop band years, the contemporary murkier sonic elements at work here act more as an augmentation than a presumption. The new Weezer songs work as a repercussion of White’s nonchalant ambiance, in both format and premise: there’s a hook, an asserting verse, a sonically flamboyant chorus, the high-pitched, sincere bridge, and repeated anthemic chorus. Despite the bands tentative sonic escalation, the best moments of Daydream relate to Weezer’s recent reinstatement era and assert that Cuomo is still impassioned with this music. “Weekend Woman”, a reworking of an abandoned Green Album track, is EWBAITE sounding, with the shimmering productive values complementing the bands surprisingly profound dark undertones to the radiant, chugging rhythm. "Sweet Mary" is a bleak yet blissful ballad, with the band once again focusing on the vocal melodies to bring out the emotion, and allowing the bells, synth, and guitars glisten with their tight construction. “Mexican Fender” is a mass of influence that pays off, commencing with a three-power-chord chug and igniting a serene White Album chorus, complete with glistening beach-pop guitar work and harmonious background crooning. The bridge is the ultimate payoff, though, as it actually harkens back to those great bridges of the Blue Album that felt on the verge of abstract chaos, with ascending guitar and vocal straining before a full-on rock out.
It’s Cuomo’s aesthetic and lyrics that remind us that Daydream is, in fact, attempting to connect with the modern era of music here, and not just those reassured longtime Weezer fans. He’s 47, and it wasn’t so long ago that he was shamelessly pandering to the kids of today, and while his new sonic aspirations would be considered innovative 15 years ago, they have become the norm in a world of rap beats and radio-pop sound effects. These connect outlandishly with his lyrics, which comprise far too much sophistication for the contrast to allow. Like “Beach Boys,” Cuomo’s ode to, err, the Beach Boys. OK. Fine. But while the bass-and-jazz-chord-call-and-response at the beginning sounds pleasant enough, the song soon spirals into a mess of overproduced beats, uncomfortable melodic refrains, and Cuomo’s awkward voice breaks that uncover his vocal shortcomings. And this is meant to be an ode to the Beach Boys? Who’s all this meant to relate to? Cuomo’s defection to full-blown pop production will again alienate those who appreciated his recent turn back to his style of guitar driven pop-rock, and a guy who namedrops everyone from Monty Python to Juan Ponce de Leon and sings about tropical birds and MIDI keyboards in "Happy Hour" can’t help but feel out of place sharing airwaves with unrefined, indistinguishable rap and banal pop experiments, despite that his soundscape is akin to those, if not more charming. Sure, they translate into his viewpoint nicely, but presented like this, his viewpoint won’t make sense to anyone else. On Daydream, Cuomo is divided between the two cohorts that have claimed his attention and demeanor throughout the bands history, and attempts to fulfil them both. It’s a good idea, but a good idea has never made up for a lack of deliberation in Cuomo’s impetuous experiments, and this premise unfortunately encircles Daydream no matter how plentiful and enjoyable it sounds.
It’s easy to speculate where the album might have gone wrong – Atlantic forcing the band to work with Butch Walker, the man responsible for Raditude, and his superficial contemporaries may come up – but all Weezer’s trials, for better or worse, ultimately rest on the shoulders of Cuomo, and in this instance, he has unfortunately let his initiative blind him of the nature of reality that execution doesn’t always idyllically reflect conception. And on Daydream, in trying to appeal to his contrasting sides, he unfortunately forgets the difference that has separated them up to this point, which hinders most of the spirit that Daydream possesses. There’s plenty of enjoyable moments, but it’s less enjoyable as an album, and old school Weezer fans will likely have to pick and mix moments, or just go back to EWBAITE and White. And for the kids? Maybe just go for Blue and Pinkerton. You’re welcome.
