Weezer – Mt Smart Stadium February 3, 2018

With their self-aware geekiness and alt-rock anthems, Weezer proved worthy of the long lived affection they inspire as they opened for The Foo Fighters last night.

As one of the most popular bands to rise from the ashes of post-grunge alternative rock, Weezer have established themselves as artists who contort themselves to suit their audience. When you consider their back catalogue in its entirety, there seems to be three Weezers.  Albums like Pinkerton, Maladroit and the Red Album set themselves up to spearhead  an experimental/Emo sound. Conversely,  The Green Album and Make Believe were concentrated efforts in commercial success. While The Blue Album and Everything Will Be Alright In the End attempt to have a foot in both worlds with varying levels of success.

By no means is this a bad thing, and it’s their unpredictability that has been a driving factor in Weezer’s longevity. But regardless of whether they’re penning melodramatic albums loosely based on Madame Butterfly (Pinkerton) or boppy radio-friendly anthems (Island In The Sun) one thing remains consistent. And that’s Weezer’s delicious self-awareness that they are the anthithesis of rockers.

With his horn-rimmed glasses, awkward air and  penchant for button-ups, Rivers Cuomo can only be described as the original Daddy of Geek-chic. But that doesn’t stop him from unleashing angular guitar riffs reminiscent of The Pixies and creating songs that owe more than a nod to the anthemic power pop of Cheap Trick and glam metal stylings of Kiss.

After 26 years, 11 albums and a string of hits to their name, Weezer could have easily headlined their own show in New Zealand. Instead, they opened for The Foo Fighters on their Concrete And Gold world tour that played to a sodden crowd at Mt Smart Stadium last night.

As the rain ran down my back and plastered my leather jacket to my body I could feel the night beginning to wear thin before it had even started. Weezer countered this by serving up an hour long greatest hits setlist that drew heavily on Pinkerton and The Blue Album that kept my moodiness at bay.

Weezer seem to have taken something from the studied awkwardness of Pavement into their live performances, with guitarist Brian Bell coming out in a full-length sunshine yellow raincoat and Redband gumboots, and Rivers played off the irony of arena glam-rock singalongs by donning a sombreo for Beverly Hills and Sounds Like Summer.

Ever the outsider, Rivers was a bundle of teenage anxieties clad in a cardigan and quirky hat. His owlish, endearingly neurotic manner was tempered by an understated confidence that held Weezer in good  stead when playing the guitar-led songs that are undoubtedly their strength Undone- The Sweater Song elicited a massive sing-along from the crowd that was probably equal parts joy and a bid to keep warm. As they rollicked through the classics, it’s hard to believe that their sound and style is over twenty decades old.

The self-affirming Pork and Beans took on a grungy quality as Weezer oscillated between the delicate verses to the high octane chorus (“I’mma do the things that I wanna do/I ain’t gotta thing to prove to you”) with gusto as the crowd screamed it back at them. The scuzzy catharsis of Say It Ain’t So perfectly captured the band’s ability to bury intellectual insecurities between four-chord hooks. The effervescent Buddy Holly proved to be an untouchable air-punch gem some two decades after it was written.

Perhaps in keeping with their awkward schtick, there was limited interaction between Weezer and the crowd, who regularly showed their approval by throwing their fingers up in a ‘W’ salute not disimilar to those seen at Wu-Tang and Paul McCartney concerts. But no-one really cared. Because Weezer had hit the sweet spot between glossy eyed fun and nostalgia with aplomb and cemented themselves as one of those rare bands who can spill their guts but still make you dance in the rain.

As Rivers held his guitar aloft in his lone semi-ironic nod to rockstar convention, it was very clear that this is a band whose outcast charm is their biggest asset.

Kate Powell

(Cameron Mitchell reviews The Foo Fighters here.)

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