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"Okay," I say to three of the four guys in Weezer. "What do you want the journalists who read this bio sheet to know about your new album?"
"It's a great ride," says new bass player Scott Shriner.
"It'll make you feel young and free," offers guitarist and singer Brian Bell.
"It's the sound of four gentlemen playing their instruments in a very honest way," answers drummer Pat Wilson, who is apparently the wry ironist of the group.
What does Rivers Cuomo think? Don't ask me. In an eerie replay of the bio I wrote almost exactly one year ago when they released The Green Album, the lead singer/songwriter/lead guitarist and I missed our appointed connection, and suddenly he was off being Rivers Cuomo, a job that eats up every second of every day for weeks at a time.
It wasn't his fault; probably it was mine. But you know what? I've got Maladroit, their awesome new release, to keep me company. In fact, even if Rivers showed up on my doorstep with a bouquet of roses, I'd probably be too busy blasting this baby through my headphones to notice.
Anyone can tell that this is yet another leap forward for these guys. With each new release since their 1994 debut, Weezer has sharpened their wicked edge and raised the bar in alternative pop. Their sound has always combined ear-bleed power with uncanny nuance; their songs provided easy-access hooks and melodies for Cuomo's unique lyrics -- candid and elusive, painful yet painted in hues of dark humor.
They've done it again -- and more -- with Maladroit. Never have they shown the kind of energy that's crammed into these tracks. You can't mistake their sound, but there's more to it this time -- more fury, more beats passionately bashed, more depth in their surreal vignettes. More sadness and honesty haunts the 46 words to "Death and Destruction" than you'll find in entire albums by certain confession-addicted singer/songwriters.
That's all clear to anyone who plugs into Maladroit. But there's a backstory too, which the Weezers I could reach were happy to run down. First of all, they cut the album in just six to eight weeks, including mixing. The routine was to get together during down time between gigs and listen as Rivers ran through new material, which they'd then jam out. This wasn't a case of the leader telling his band what to do; much of the marvels on Maladroit came from ideas bouncing around between all four members.
Take "Dope Nose," whose vocal hook is so sharp that it might soon be declared illegal. That came mainly from Scott, with Brian helping out. It's there precisely because Rivers leaves room for this kind of thing; he knows the band can deliver the goods, which only makes their unity and purpose stronger. "He leaves it up to us to find the hooks," Brian says. "That definitely wasn't the case before. He's not gonna take 100 percent of my ideas, but he's definitely listening to them."
Then there are the unexpected twists that Maladroit takes from one track to the next. When you least expect it, here comes "Death and Destruction" with its bluesy shuffle feel and noir guitar. ("It doesn't sound bluesy to me," demurs Pat. "Actually, it sounds like classical music.") Or "Burndt Jam," a longtime Weezer instrumental that morphed in the studio into a funky vocal strut. As Brian remembers it, "Rivers started off singing about potato chips, just to dust off whatever it is in your brain that comes up with lyrics. He was reading off a package of Pringles or something. I still remember that the line '1.5 grams of carbohydrates' was in it."
Maybe the big news, though, is the emergence of Rivers the Guitar Icon. From the compact, highly melodic four-bar break on "December" to longer stretches on "Love Explosion," "Fall Together," and other tracks, his playing is all over the place. Maybe he's been taking vitamins?
"I think Rivers was ready to shred," says Scott. "We actually encouraged him to do so. I always enjoyed guitar solos, if the guitar player has something to say. And I really think Rivers has a lot to say on guitar."
"Rivers always had that ability to solo," adds Brian, "but he was always kind of scared and timid about unleashing his technique on the world."
Only Pat really comes clean. "We can't deny it any longer," he admits. "We can't ignore that part of what's going on with us. It's definitely in there, and it's cool to let it out."
Ask about the words, however, and the band clams up. "I'm not a person that studies lyrics," Scott shrugs. "I grew up listening to Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, with no idea of what Robert Plant or Ozzie was saying." Pat is a little cagier: "There are specific subjects behind each song, which I'm privy to. But I'm not gonna say anything about that."
With Rivers MIA, that leaves it to me to translate. But it isn't easy. These are songs that speak through inference and allusion. That is, of course, the best kind of lyric writing; it touches you without telling you why. I do think there's a dysfunctional family riff on some of these tunes, especially "Slob," which seems to be about some annoying parent trying to badger a kid into growing up, and "Love Explosion," which attempts to lure a young lady with one of the fresher pickup lines of the season: Let's get out of here because your family "has been wanting to kill you in your sleep."
At least that's how it sounds to me. What's for sure is that Maladroit is a mystery wrapped inside the most incendiary music of the season. If Rivers comes to your town, be sure to ask him about it. Until then, crank this sucker up and take that ride.
Rivers Cuomo - vocals, guitar
Brian Bell - guitar, vocals
Scott Shriner - bass, vocals
Pat Wilson - drums
