Say No To Weezer

2010 will be the year I say no to Weezer. Sure, it’s September but I’m putting my foot down now, dammit. My rapport with this band has increasingly become more and more abusive and despite years and years of loving them, I can’t do this anymore.

I’ll admit that their music hasn’t been very strong in the past couple of years, but the the tipping point was Rivers Cuomos’ collaboration with B.O.B. with “Magic” that while undeniably catchy, just pierces my heart with a poisonous arrow. Am I being dramatic? Yes, but I’m heartbroken, so cut me some slack.

In the beginning, it was swell: I loved Weezer and I felt like they really loved me, too. At least, I felt like Rivers was trying to impress me with the Blue album, similar to how that skinny geek in your Geometry class wanted to catch your attention, so he’d gather his other nerdy friends and form a cool band, which they’d debut at the school’s talent show, wowing everyone – cheerleaders included – with their talent. Seeing as how I’ve spent my formative high school years at an all girls school and I barely passed my 8th grade Geometry class, I really have no idea what this scenario would actually be like but I’ve seen my share of teen movies. This is how it works.

Pinkerton was the album where Weezer and I had a serious relationship, like where you make out with tongue and let him grope your boob. I know, I know, this is the one annoying album that every aging hipster reminisces over, but as someone spending most of her days reminiscing about high school while trying to figure out why her American Apparel sweatshirt is falling apart at the seams, I’m allowed to gush over this album. Weezer made the smart move to turn into some weird reclusive band after Pinkerton came out, because it made the music seem even more exclusive and special. Rivers’ music was quirky, touching and revealing, and the fact that critics didn’t like it made it seem cooler than ever. The fact that he also made the album into some sort of weird Asian fetish thing really spoke to me. I mean, spoke to me. It didn’t matter if he was singing about his boners over some Japanese girl, the acknowledgment about my culture was enough to make me excuse him for any creepy behavior. Basically, Rivers totally opened his deepest feelings to me and I let him grope my boob as a reward.

Then the Green album came out, and it was like the geeky teenager finally achieved his full confidence of having a serious girlfriend (me). Puberty came and passed, turning our gawky boy into a really hot dude with that uber cool look. And OMG, it was the coolest thing ever. Weezer was BACK and everyone was going wild over it. Okay, the songs were really stupid and I don’t even remember what most of them were, but it was okay, because THEY WERE BACK AND EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE OKAY.

Then Maladroit came out, which was a little better than the Green album (don’t even try to disagree with me) because it was like a blend between Blue and Pinkerton: it was more fun, aggressive and fast. It was like seeing my geeky boyfriend make the football team, and I’m watching him play his first game and the popular guys all high-five him after a really good play. (Even though I don’t understand football and I don’t really know what makes a “good play,” this is what they sometimes do on those teen movies so that’s how it plays out in my head.) So I sit back on the bleachers, amazed about how his life is all working out, and then later when the game is over, I patiently wait along the side of the field to see my newly popular boyfriend, even if he kind of ignores me when I first wave him over but it’s okay, because I know deep down inside, he hearts me.

Soon, Weezer put out Make Believe and by this time, I’m kind of bored with the relationship, even though I’d never admit it out loud. The excitement and allure of being with the guy I’d never thought I’d be in love with is fading away, and sometimes, I can’t help feel that he’s more concerned with hanging out with his football buddies than me. But it’s still okay, because when I’m alone with him, it’s all good. I had my favorite songs off the album but deep down, I  knew it was all a bit superficial.

And then the singles and albums kept coming, from the Red album to Ratitude: that’s when the sneaking suspicion I had about my long-term boyfriend was true: he was kind of superficial, predictable and even a little dumb. At first, I thought it was funny, like the Pork and Beans music video with all the hilarious-at-the-time Internet celebrities, viral videos and memes.  Weezer totally got pop culture and they were going to be all about it. My boyfriend finally fully embraced his own popularity but all of a sudden, that’s the only thing he’d talk about. He’d stand me up on our planned dates  more and more often with increasingly lame excuses, but every time he’d hug me, I’d forgive him.

But now I realize how much the popularity and that once cute quirkyness has gotten to the band: it’s just not the same anymore, and the songs that maybe were meant to be ironic in some way were just plain dumb, like “I’m Your Daddy” and that one song, “I Can’t Stop Partying” that sounded like something that should have been on a panning shot of the Hollywood club scene in The Hills. Ugh. Then Rivers actually went and married a real Japanese girl, which totally grossed me out. It was one thing to pine after one in Pinkteron but that was between me and Rivers; I wasn’t expecting him to actually do something about it. Everyone has an Asian fetish, but it’s a totally different story when you tell the world about it and then actually prove that it’s real.

The worst was realizing the annoying collaborations with bad hip-hop artists or appearances on god awful YouTube names like Fred. It’s like coming across a picture of your once-geeky-boyfriend-turned-hunky-football-jock making out with some dumb cheerleader at a party you weren’t invited to on Facebook. Like WTF, really?  After years of devotion, this is what it’s come to? But despite that awful picture and how everyone at school is laughing at me, I still meet up with my boyfriend behind the high school cafeteria, listen to his sorry stories about how no one understands the real him and then let him grope my boob again.

But now they’ve out yet another album and this time, it has Hurley from LOST on it. Really? REALLY!?! WHY? I DON’T KNOW. So this is where I’m putting my foot down. I’ve bought all of Weezer’s albums, despite my wavering faith it them. I dutifully listened to them and though none of the music has struck a chord with me like their early stuff, I still kept them around because I loved them. This year, this relationship is going to end. No more Weezer. Rivers, I’ve had it with the lame excuses and the ignoring me and the bad groping. You’re not allowed to make out with me, and even though your songs are catchy and I enjoy listening to them, understand that they’re completely MEANINGLESS to me. Good riddance!

What am I talking about? I know I’m going to buy Hurley. I hate myself.