Review Summary: One of the finest pop bands of our time just going through the motions.
It seems fair to say that we've all developed a fairly solid impression of Weezer and what they do; that is, quirky, if not terribly inconsistent, pop rock. We've gotten to know them at their epoch making best- the ineffably pop-minded debut, its solemn disaster of a follow-up- and we've gotten to know them at their worst- "Beverly Hills", "I Don't Want to Let You Go", and everything in between. Almost like a reflex, Weezer make albums that progressively hammer home a concisely honed formula of boyish emotions set to cheery melodies and firebrand guitar riffs. It's a formula that, whilst open to some influence, mostly speaks for itself, and to say that
The White Album could possibly exist outside of it is laughable. It is, at its core, just another Weezer album. Granted, it's hardly ever as poor as
Make Believe or as unmemorable in its blandness as "Pork & Beans", and it's hard to argue that it's ever unenjoyable. Compare it to
The Blue Album or even
The Green Album, however, and it's an album that sounds inferior on just about every count. Its hooks aren't compelling and its lyricism isn't prepared to make up for the fact, so instead of doing anything wrong, these songs settle on being competent and inoffensive.
It's funny that I find myself at this juncture, prepared to slate Rivers Cuomo for essentially not repeating the errors that made most of his previous works so obnoxiously childish. That is because whilst applauding
Everything Will Be Alright in the End as a return-to-form upon release, I was cautious to offer much more than faint praise for a band who had done so much to disappoint me. At the time, we often had to deal with Weezer albums that, whilst engaging, played to some base level of weak choruses and overly intellectualized banality. I'll gladly stick to that appraisal as I attempt to justify disappointment with
The White Album; it is, for better or worse, not that offensive in its Weezer-ness. You can find traces of their personality in "Do You Wanna Get High?" and "Thank God for Girls", replete with jammed-in references to Bacharach and Cannoli. But it is mostly what we've come to expect of a band known for being just a little bit goofy. In the end,
The White Album is never unlistenable, and there's more than enough good hooks to ensure that it has some shelf life. But it's hard to offer any ringing endorsement when it makes being Weezer seem so damn easy. You get a sense of that from watching Rivers Cuomo's 6-second, smirk-inducing cover of Rae Sremmurd's "Come Get Her". In the instance that Cuomo might finagle his way around some modern misogynist anthem, he'd just as quickly turn it into an angsty meditation on self-loathing and girls. It's just the way he is. Yes,
The White Album succeeds because it's likely the most consistent and grounded Weezer have ever been. But that says nothing for what in reality sounds like one of the finest pop bands of our time just going through the motions.
