and now I write about ozma
no, not that ozma
Once upon a time, in the murky dawn of what we now know as the social internet -- before facebook, youtube, and the demise of myspace -- there once was a Weezer cover band from California who got so good at being a Weezer cover band that they started writing their own Weezer songs.
But I guess a little context re: Weezer is necessary, cuz maybe not everyone reading this was among we who grew up in the 90's and were just at the right intersection of musical innocence and awkward nerdiness for Weezer to really hit home. They remain a divisive band to this day because hipsters who came of age even just a few years before the rise of Weezer resent them for basically cashing in on this kind of lofi indie pop aesthetic that Pavement had helped pioneer in a much cooler way. Suddenly there was this band of a ex-metal heads from California playing "ironically nerdy" power pop that struck the same mood as Pavement but was far more polished and radio ready and the whole thing just kinda stunk. And though I can relate to that sentiment, I cannot share in its cynicism because however calculated the veneer of Weezer's debut, underneath it there was a genuine weirdness and awkardness that sold even the corniest aspects of their sound, along with occasional true heartfelt emotional sentiment that would become the basis for their subsequent masterpiece, Pinkerton. And I think it did strike a chord with a wide swatch of listeners who were either too young or naive to know about the cooler bands that helped launch Weezer, but were still smart and sensitive and (of course) nerdy enough to connect with the kind of band that wrote self-deprecating power pop anthems about playing dungeons and dragons that still climaxed with gloriously brazen hard rock guitar solos. We were lured in by their wit and "cuteness" but the lovelorn desperation that Rivers Cuomo could not quite hide won us all over.
Weezer was, for me, almost like a world unto itself. As a teenager I just wouldn't bother with anyone who didn't "understand" their music. And so it was for many other die hards like myself. And this stubborn, myopic devotion was further galvanized by Pinkerton, a dark and brutal record in which Rivers casts a harsh light upon the full ugliness of his social anxiety and failings in love, and builds them into bittersweet, painful monuments to the pains of being a sensitive outcast. Though their basic sonic formula was intact, Pinkerton was indeed an earnest effort at making a "serious" album that didn't rely on sweater-based gimmicks or Happy Days videos. The wit of their debut remained but was unmistakably darker and reined in to support Pinkerton's self-destructive edge. Of course, the record was a flop but resonated incredibly strongly with the band's cult following, while also becoming a touchstone of the burgeoning "emo" movement. Though this was still 1997, before anyone knew what that meant enough to hate it. For my part, the day I suddenly realized Pinkerton's brilliance was the closest I ever got to losing my virginity as a teenager. And I suspect I'm not the only Weezer fan who could say such a thing...
Following a 5 year hiatus which was assumed to be a breakup, the Weezer faithful were dealt a crushing blow with the release of what we'll just call The Green Album. Excitement at a genuine follow up to Pinkerton evaporated as the record revealed itself as a "de-evolution back through Pinkerton, through the blue album, and beyond" (from a pitchfork review from which I still remember that phrase by heart -- make of that what you will). I actually enjoyed The Green Album for what it was -- and I still do -- but that's a whole other review that I'll probably never write. The main thing is that those of us who held such a true belief in Weezer that enabled their triumphant comeback were betrayed by the record's shallow grab for mainstream appeal. The nerdy awkwardness of Blue and raw emotional candor of Pinkerton were abandoned for vague abstract lyrics, and overly processed, brain dead arrangements.
All of this sure is a lot of back story, but you see, it's completely essential to understand Ozma. I'm not convinced that they had a single fan who does not share our background as a fallen Weezer devotee. Their entire existence is contingent upon this intense, close-knit community of fans, because as a Weezer cover band, they started off just like any of us who loved Weezer with such foolish devotion. Ask any one of us who listend to Ozma in 2001 or 2002, and it is because of a demo that was mislabeled as a Weezer demo that we downloaded off of Napster, in which lead singer Ryan Slegr does an extremely convincing Rivers Cuomo impersonation.
And so it was, then, that Rock N Roll Pt. 3, their official debut, can be only truly be considered as nothing less embarrassing and more glorious than the sound of a band who heard Pinkerton, and loved it to death in every last detail, and, seeing the gap left by Green Album's betrayal, set out to recreate it.
The thing is, Rock N Roll Pt. 3 sure ain't no Pinkerton. It succeeds Pinkerton admirably in channeling its heart-on-sleeve confessional style, and in doing so it leaves no indulgence in the awkward misery of the 21st century nerd's teen angst unindulged, often exploring such instances in garish specificity. And as true Weezer fans, you know that this nerdiness is realer than real -- almost certainly more real than Rivers'. Most songs are yearning romantic laments: high school love gone wrong, or the crushing weight of a tender, unrequited crushes on a distant unattainable woman. It would all seem extremely twee were it not for the heavy sonic character of the record; they stick extremely close the formula laid out by Blue and Pinkerton -- pristinely overdriven Marshall stack guitars chug power chords in abbreviated circle of fifth progressions, topped by sticky, sing-songy melodies with lots of hooky accidentals and melodic turns. And indulgent is again the word to describe their arrangements -- where Weezer would use catchy, bright moog lines as an occasional accent (not more than one or two per album) to add color, nearly every song on this record features prominent moog or farfisa lines, often doubled with the lead guitar (another Weezer staple). These songs are drunk on their own dynamics -- where Pinkerton would save changes in tempo and volume for only the most emotional impactful moments, RNRpt3 seems to work them into each song -- which actually works because each song is lyrically heavy enough to warrant such constant melodrama.
If all this sounds excessive and self-indulgent and tasteless and embarrassing, well... It is. This is a thoroughly shameless record, but this is precisely why I love it so much. Because the individuals in Ozma are sensitive Weezer devotees indeed, and their set of values for Weezer's inherent greatness are spot-on. Any musician of the die hard Weezer persuasion could only dream of forming this exact band and making an album with such a pitch perfect imitation of the Weezer sound, and we all had our horrible sad little virginal nerd emotional wreckage to dump into them. And so to me, this album represents nothing more than a heroic act for the Weezer faithful, even at it's most intolerably awful. I still listen to it now, ten years later, and it still inspires me that the dream of having my Weezer template nerd rock band is well within my grasp.
This all said, the embarrassing lyrical content often deflates the vibe because the band is lacking in the classic pop roots that helped crown Weezer's 90's output with a certain timelessness. While Weezer's sound was more akin to 80s hair metal, Rivers' songwriting (from that era at least) was strictly of the beatles/beach boys hook laden pop rock school. And Ozma never seemed to dig that deep -- so while Weezer's songs reference the Beach Boys, Ozma references KISS... who was an influence on Weezer as well, for sure, but it's obvious that Ozma never got further than that. And so the actual musical material tends to reek more of their power-pop-by-way-of-emo contemporaries like The Promise Ring or The Get Up Kids. Weezer's melodies are top notch and I would rate them up there with those of the finest pop songs ever written -- but in Ozma's attempt to capture their general vibe, they settle for cheaper hooks and melodies that, while catchy, are only more cloying versions of that which they seek to copy. In some ways this album cements the "emo" connection with Pinkerton -- because while Pinkerton is arguably not an emo record, Rock N Roll Pt. 3 most certainly is, and yet it is so much like Pinkerton that the connection cannot be denied. On the other hand, the melodies are pleasant and breezy; and the album's uptempo pace keep all the maudlin whining from weighing down the mood. So long as you can stomach what they are doing to began with, this is an easily enjoyable record. Precisely because of this record's profound weaknesses, I feel in many ways it is more true to the actual spirit of Weezer, and is certainly the soundtrack of mad Weezer fandom. So I love this record, and any motherfucker here who don't like it... Fuck 'em!
Once upon a time, in the murky dawn of what we now know as the social internet -- before facebook, youtube, and the demise of myspace -- there once was a Weezer cover band from California who got so good at being a Weezer cover band that they started writing their own Weezer songs.
But I guess a little context re: Weezer is necessary, cuz maybe not everyone reading this was among we who grew up in the 90's and were just at the right intersection of musical innocence and awkward nerdiness for Weezer to really hit home. They remain a divisive band to this day because hipsters who came of age even just a few years before the rise of Weezer resent them for basically cashing in on this kind of lofi indie pop aesthetic that Pavement had helped pioneer in a much cooler way. Suddenly there was this band of a ex-metal heads from California playing "ironically nerdy" power pop that struck the same mood as Pavement but was far more polished and radio ready and the whole thing just kinda stunk. And though I can relate to that sentiment, I cannot share in its cynicism because however calculated the veneer of Weezer's debut, underneath it there was a genuine weirdness and awkardness that sold even the corniest aspects of their sound, along with occasional true heartfelt emotional sentiment that would become the basis for their subsequent masterpiece, Pinkerton. And I think it did strike a chord with a wide swatch of listeners who were either too young or naive to know about the cooler bands that helped launch Weezer, but were still smart and sensitive and (of course) nerdy enough to connect with the kind of band that wrote self-deprecating power pop anthems about playing dungeons and dragons that still climaxed with gloriously brazen hard rock guitar solos. We were lured in by their wit and "cuteness" but the lovelorn desperation that Rivers Cuomo could not quite hide won us all over.
Weezer was, for me, almost like a world unto itself. As a teenager I just wouldn't bother with anyone who didn't "understand" their music. And so it was for many other die hards like myself. And this stubborn, myopic devotion was further galvanized by Pinkerton, a dark and brutal record in which Rivers casts a harsh light upon the full ugliness of his social anxiety and failings in love, and builds them into bittersweet, painful monuments to the pains of being a sensitive outcast. Though their basic sonic formula was intact, Pinkerton was indeed an earnest effort at making a "serious" album that didn't rely on sweater-based gimmicks or Happy Days videos. The wit of their debut remained but was unmistakably darker and reined in to support Pinkerton's self-destructive edge. Of course, the record was a flop but resonated incredibly strongly with the band's cult following, while also becoming a touchstone of the burgeoning "emo" movement. Though this was still 1997, before anyone knew what that meant enough to hate it. For my part, the day I suddenly realized Pinkerton's brilliance was the closest I ever got to losing my virginity as a teenager. And I suspect I'm not the only Weezer fan who could say such a thing...
Following a 5 year hiatus which was assumed to be a breakup, the Weezer faithful were dealt a crushing blow with the release of what we'll just call The Green Album. Excitement at a genuine follow up to Pinkerton evaporated as the record revealed itself as a "de-evolution back through Pinkerton, through the blue album, and beyond" (from a pitchfork review from which I still remember that phrase by heart -- make of that what you will). I actually enjoyed The Green Album for what it was -- and I still do -- but that's a whole other review that I'll probably never write. The main thing is that those of us who held such a true belief in Weezer that enabled their triumphant comeback were betrayed by the record's shallow grab for mainstream appeal. The nerdy awkwardness of Blue and raw emotional candor of Pinkerton were abandoned for vague abstract lyrics, and overly processed, brain dead arrangements.
All of this sure is a lot of back story, but you see, it's completely essential to understand Ozma. I'm not convinced that they had a single fan who does not share our background as a fallen Weezer devotee. Their entire existence is contingent upon this intense, close-knit community of fans, because as a Weezer cover band, they started off just like any of us who loved Weezer with such foolish devotion. Ask any one of us who listend to Ozma in 2001 or 2002, and it is because of a demo that was mislabeled as a Weezer demo that we downloaded off of Napster, in which lead singer Ryan Slegr does an extremely convincing Rivers Cuomo impersonation.
And so it was, then, that Rock N Roll Pt. 3, their official debut, can be only truly be considered as nothing less embarrassing and more glorious than the sound of a band who heard Pinkerton, and loved it to death in every last detail, and, seeing the gap left by Green Album's betrayal, set out to recreate it.
The thing is, Rock N Roll Pt. 3 sure ain't no Pinkerton. It succeeds Pinkerton admirably in channeling its heart-on-sleeve confessional style, and in doing so it leaves no indulgence in the awkward misery of the 21st century nerd's teen angst unindulged, often exploring such instances in garish specificity. And as true Weezer fans, you know that this nerdiness is realer than real -- almost certainly more real than Rivers'. Most songs are yearning romantic laments: high school love gone wrong, or the crushing weight of a tender, unrequited crushes on a distant unattainable woman. It would all seem extremely twee were it not for the heavy sonic character of the record; they stick extremely close the formula laid out by Blue and Pinkerton -- pristinely overdriven Marshall stack guitars chug power chords in abbreviated circle of fifth progressions, topped by sticky, sing-songy melodies with lots of hooky accidentals and melodic turns. And indulgent is again the word to describe their arrangements -- where Weezer would use catchy, bright moog lines as an occasional accent (not more than one or two per album) to add color, nearly every song on this record features prominent moog or farfisa lines, often doubled with the lead guitar (another Weezer staple). These songs are drunk on their own dynamics -- where Pinkerton would save changes in tempo and volume for only the most emotional impactful moments, RNRpt3 seems to work them into each song -- which actually works because each song is lyrically heavy enough to warrant such constant melodrama.
If all this sounds excessive and self-indulgent and tasteless and embarrassing, well... It is. This is a thoroughly shameless record, but this is precisely why I love it so much. Because the individuals in Ozma are sensitive Weezer devotees indeed, and their set of values for Weezer's inherent greatness are spot-on. Any musician of the die hard Weezer persuasion could only dream of forming this exact band and making an album with such a pitch perfect imitation of the Weezer sound, and we all had our horrible sad little virginal nerd emotional wreckage to dump into them. And so to me, this album represents nothing more than a heroic act for the Weezer faithful, even at it's most intolerably awful. I still listen to it now, ten years later, and it still inspires me that the dream of having my Weezer template nerd rock band is well within my grasp.
This all said, the embarrassing lyrical content often deflates the vibe because the band is lacking in the classic pop roots that helped crown Weezer's 90's output with a certain timelessness. While Weezer's sound was more akin to 80s hair metal, Rivers' songwriting (from that era at least) was strictly of the beatles/beach boys hook laden pop rock school. And Ozma never seemed to dig that deep -- so while Weezer's songs reference the Beach Boys, Ozma references KISS... who was an influence on Weezer as well, for sure, but it's obvious that Ozma never got further than that. And so the actual musical material tends to reek more of their power-pop-by-way-of-emo contemporaries like The Promise Ring or The Get Up Kids. Weezer's melodies are top notch and I would rate them up there with those of the finest pop songs ever written -- but in Ozma's attempt to capture their general vibe, they settle for cheaper hooks and melodies that, while catchy, are only more cloying versions of that which they seek to copy. In some ways this album cements the "emo" connection with Pinkerton -- because while Pinkerton is arguably not an emo record, Rock N Roll Pt. 3 most certainly is, and yet it is so much like Pinkerton that the connection cannot be denied. On the other hand, the melodies are pleasant and breezy; and the album's uptempo pace keep all the maudlin whining from weighing down the mood. So long as you can stomach what they are doing to began with, this is an easily enjoyable record. Precisely because of this record's profound weaknesses, I feel in many ways it is more true to the actual spirit of Weezer, and is certainly the soundtrack of mad Weezer fandom. So I love this record, and any motherfucker here who don't like it... Fuck 'em!