ALBUM REVIEW: Weezer - Hurley

(released on Epitaph, 2010)

Review by: Michael Bird

                                            

3.5/5

Weezer seem to want to tie themselves to their past, or at least let it be known that they have a perception of themselves as a band over time. There’s a fair amount of self-referential content to most of their albums, and there’s no reason to release more than one self-titled album unless you’re interested calling attention to the shifting shape of your own band. Hurley was going to be self-titled (again), apparently, until Rivers and Co. realised that people would just call it ‘the Hurley album’ anyway in reference to the cover, and it’s clear that this latest offering is still Weezer on Weezer, but thankfully in a more enjoyable form than the last few records the group has put out.

Rivers is a master of the niche Weezer occupies in alternative music, and Hurley showcases his capacity for catchy choruses, lyrics that are humorous but still introspective, and a bizarre knack for throwing about cultural references that might seem immediately dated or opportunistic coming from anyone else. Michael Cera, wearing his Scott Pilgrim pants, guests on ‘Hang On’. Nine out of ten bands would be ridiculed for this move on the grounds that it compromises the album’s artistic integrity, cashes in on a fad, blah blah blah, but Weezer somehow remain the effortlessly cool kids at your house party who are allowed to sing the ‘Fresh Prince’ theme without being dorky or ‘scene’, they’re just above it all.

With this in mind the strange collaborations, Youtube obsession and seriously, SERIOUSLY hip album name/cover shouldn’t have much of a bearing on how the album is received. It’s all just Weezer being Weezer, and no matter how aware the band wants you to be of how aware they are of how you perceive them, in the end it should be (at least mostly) about the music. Hurley does call back to the beloved early Weezer albums a bit more than Raditude or Make Believe, and this is definitely a welcome change. ‘Where’s My Sex’ is as dweebishly rockin’ as anything off Pinkerton, and there are definitely echoes of the offhand sort of irreverence Weezer used to exude throughout Hurley. The guitars are plenty rough, and the hooks (Memories) are about as memorable as they used to be.

It’s probably a mistake to take Cuomo’s lyrics particularly seriously, so to characterise Hurleymeasured album, insofar as fans of the power-pop, party time Weezer should be just as satisfied as fans of the more experimental, grown up Weezer (if there are any). The latter half of the album does venture off into some strange sonic spaces, especially the closing Time Flies, but not at the expense of the power chords and shout-along choruses you know Weezer can deliver. It’s not the Blue Album by any stretch, but it shouldn’t have to be. Hurley is a return to form for Weezer, and a damn good time. as a ‘mature’ album might be unwarranted. It’s definitely a more