Is Weezer Power Pop?

GUEST POST: Daniel Brummel (Book Excerpt)

Weezer’s self-titled debut album—known affectionately as the Blue Album by generations of fans—turned 29 this month. To celebrate, Paul Myers and I wanted to share Daniel Brummel’s excellent exploration of these 10 legendary tracks through a power pop lens. This essay originally appeared in Go All The Way: A Literary Appreciation of Power Pop (Rare Bird Books). The collection features essays about Big Star, Sloan, Blondie, Fountains of Wayne, The New Pornographers, XTC, Cheap Trick, Tommy Keene, Jellyfish and many more.

💙👓 Check out our Geek Rock series, “The Geeks Shall Inherit The Earth.”

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Is Weezer Power Pop?

By Daniel Brummel

I discovered Weezer at age twelve thanks to my father, who’s always had pretty hip taste in music.

He’d already done his due diligence and introduced me to the Beatles; I couldn’t get enough of their 1962–1966 compilation (a.k.a. the Red Anthology). Pairing it side-by-side with Weezer’s self-titled first record (a.k.a. the Blue Album) felt like that scene in The Matrix where Keanu Reeves has to choose between the red and blue pills. I took both, again and again. My mind was blown by the groups’ melodic similarities and stylistic differences. I set out to reconcile the musical equation between them, which straddles three decades and an entire genre: power pop.

I was born in 1981, after the first wave of power pop had crested so I don’t claim to be an expert. I’m probably only 51 percent conversant in its biggest bands. I have, however, spent a quarter century dissecting the anatomy of Weezer’s early albums; indeed, I’ve existed in a quantum entanglement with “the Weez” for as long as I can remember. Let me divulge some dorky skeletons from deep in my closet…

When “Undone—The Sweater Song” first came into rotation on LA’s alt-rock radio station KROQ in ’94, I was wrapping up seventh grade, getting interested in young women, re-reading Stephen King’s It (a meditation on Eddie Cochran’s 1958 “Summertime Blues,” a power pop ancestor), and diving into my dad’s prodigious record collection.

An insatiable mediaphile and avid concertgoer since the fifties, Dad dabbled as an organist with his own rock and roll group, the Egg. Having witnessed nearly all the historic rock acts of the twentieth century, he speaks most hyperbolically of the Who. For him, the Who was the greatest live band ever. They were aggressively loud, violently masculine, and explosively incendiary, like the cherry bombs Keith Moon detonated on the Smothers Brothers’ show in ’67, which deafened Pete Townshend. They were also expansively dynamic and resoundingly harmonic, as in “Pictures of Lily,” the onanistic cosmic egg that soon hatched into power pop vérité.

Dad would often return from record store runs with stacks of used CDs. On one such reconnaissance mission, he procured a promo copy of Weezer’s dreamy cerulean blue debut. I compared it to the deeper Beatles cuts I loved, like “I’ll Get You” (a pleasantly inexorable threat of fatalistic pursuit) and “I’m Only Sleeping” (which is no soporific jingle). There’s real hypnopompic power in those tunes; they are simultaneously perfect power pop and emphatically not power pop, because, like “Pictures of Lily,” they are the original, liminal, authentic article. They’re the Platonic ideal true power pop worshipped nostalgically when it was birthed in the seventies by acts like Badfinger, first-round Apple Records signees whose name is a Beatles reference and whose final hit “Baby Blue” is quintessential power pop—a position supported by its iconic placement at the final denouement of Breaking Bad in 2013.

By the time Henry Winkler (a.k.a. “The Fonz”) introduced Weezer at KROQ’s Acoustic Christmas concert in ’94, I was utterly hooked on the Blue Album.

They blazed through their five-song set at a breakneck clip, and the applause was a deafeningly explosive, unceasing white noise prompting their original bassist Matt Sharp to say, “This is the most insane shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” The only reference point I had for that kind of thunderous adulation was…Beatlemania. It was then I decided I would become a rock musician. Little did I know that twenty years later I’d join Weezer onstage, performing with them at the same Christmas show at the Forum.

I was Weezer Fan Club member #1642.

I’ve got multiple autographed Weezines, the precious newsletters snail mailed out by presidents Mykel and Carli, who helped us set up local fan club parties, at which my band Ozma performed alongside other startups like Kara’s Flowers (now Maroon 5). Mykel and Carli were so sweet and so supportive of us young musicians; the song Rivers named after the duo portrays them impeccably. They even invited me to their home on Burnside Street in Portland, Oregon. When I arrived, they baked me cookies and set me up with a Weezer fangirl I had chatted with on AOL. It was devastating when they were killed in ’96, and the memorial show Weezer gave with That Dog was the most heart-wrenching performance I’ve ever witnessed. It also marked the end of an era for Weezer because it was Matt’s last show. Tensions had mounted during the Pinkerton sessions (perhaps due to Matt’s side project, the Rentals), and Mykel and Carli’s deaths were the last straw. Weezer entered a four-year dormancy and was never the same again.

In the interim, Ozma’s song “Iceland” opened the Hear You Me! A Tribute to Mykel and Carli compilation, and with their posthumous blessing, we inched closer to Weezer. Our guitarist Jose Galvez spotted Rivers at the 2000 Warped Tour and gave him our debut album Rock and Roll Part Three. A few weeks later, we heard a report that Rivers was blasting it at home and singing along to every word. This was unbelievable, backwards, and nothing short of miraculous. Then he called to ask if Ozma wanted to open for Weezer in Sacramento. The resounding “Fuck yeah!!!” came from the deepest parts of our beings. Our parents drove up the I-5 together on July 20, 2000, to watch us sound check at the Crest Theatre, presumably to ensure that Weezer wasn’t luring us into a hedonistic haven of hookers, blow, timeless melody, and hearing damage.

We then opened for Weezer on two full arena tours, accompanied by the Get Up Kids and Saves the Day, respectively— emo bands surfing on the new wave of popularity brought to that subculture by the raw melodrama of Weezer’s second record Pinkerton.

Later, Ozma sailed on both Weezer Cruises and our guitarist Ryen Slegr and I co-wrote some tunes with Rivers for Weezer’s ninth album, 2014’s Everything Will Be Alright in the End. NPR dubbed it “Album of the Year,” and I joined Weezer as music director and fifth band member for the release tour.

So, my perspective on the question “Is Weezer power pop?” is unique if nothing else, as my entire musical outlook was forged in the furnace of early Beatles and early Weezer as a tweenager. So let’s see how the Blue Album’s ten tracks shake down on the power pop scale.

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'Daniel Brummel’s ‘Is Weezer Power Pop?’ is one of 20+ essays about the genre featured in ‘Go All The Way: A Literary Appreciation of Power Pop.’

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“My Name Is Jonas”

A stream-of-consciousness meditation on nostalgia kindled by dystopia, set to a heavy waltz. “Wepeel” is Rivers’ childhood sled (his Wellesian “Rosebud”) while “Jonas” always seemed to me to reference the protagonist of Lois Lowry’s young adult novel The Giver, who escapes on his sled from a post-apocalyptic community. Although the song was written prior to the publication of the book, many young adults like myself were made aware of the song and the book around the same time in 1994. The tambourine and arpeggiated acoustic hemiola figure hit some stylistic markers of power pop, but the freewheelin’ Dylanesque squalling in the harmonica solo belies a more syncretic folk-metal recipe.

Dylan was high on the Beats and “thicker’n thieves” with Allen Ginsberg, and the horn-rimmed glasses here are more Ginsberg’s than Buddy Holly’s—but not necessarily at odds with power pop. John Lennon disclosed in correspondence with Jack Kerouac that the “a” in The Beatles was a purposeful Beat Generation reference.

The I-V-vi-IV progression (shared with “Let It Be”) is milked for all it’s worth, then immediately reused in “No One Else.” The reliance on amp feedback (like the wild Lydian moment at 0:55) tilts the scales towards Weezer’s undeniable metal roots. What a peculiar, enigmatic manifesto to herald a new artist’s career! Only 42 percent power pop, though.

“No One Else”

“The jealous-obsessive asshole in me freaking out on my girlfriend,” Rivers declared unabashedly, and indeed these tendencies toward proud possession, misogynistic entitlement, and male privilege are power pop’s dirty little secret and its downfall.

Consider the 1979 backlash against “My Sharona”—the Knack’s pedo-boner—which cannibalized power pop as a commodity. Arenas full of date-rapey jocks chanting this chorus seem dangerously cringeworthy in the wake of the #MeToo movement as men struggle to process the repercussions of predatory behavior (on that note: how was “Run For Your Life” closing out Rubber Soul ever condoned?). Again, par for the course in power pop.

Musically speaking, the Blue Album’s track two is an undeniably relentless barnburner, and Brian Bell’s harmony in the final chorus is revelatory. Sixty-nine percent balls-out power pop.

“The World Has Turned And Left Me Here”

The possessive antics have pushed “his girl” away, and the jealous asshole experiences isolation and introversion, existentially contemplating “the void behind my face,” perhaps the same void of Lennon’s “Tomorrow Never Knows.” Wallet photo masturbation is perfectly power pop, an echo of the pornographic “Pictures of Lily.”

The jangly acoustic arpeggios reappear as rockabilly bluegrass runs ride the galloping beat like a nerdy cowboy on a heavy metal horse, while the backup harmonies channel Brian Wilson (Rivers is a self-professed Beach Boys freak who proclaimed that “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” is the “most ultimately beautiful pop music”). A bit “heady,” so to speak, but still 62 percent power pop.

“Buddy Holly”

…is himself a recognized power pop precursor. The Beatles’ very first recording (as the Quarrymen) was his “That’ll Be the Day” in 1958. And I’d pay to hear Weezer cover “Everyday,” whose long flowing melodies, boyish hiccups, and sugary glockenspiel solo are more pure pop than power pop. By channeling him, Rivers tapped deeply into a powerful bespectacled American musical archetype—a smart choice, as his original lyric name-checking Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire wouldn’t have hit as hard.

Male insecurity, twisted violence, and patronizing condescension creep through the verses, vanquished by the celebrity lookalike chorus. The quirky Korg keyboard lines show Ric Ocasek’s new wave imprint and power pop pedigree—thank God he convinced the band this song wasn’t too cheesy to include on the album! Rolling Stone’s Laura Braun pointed to this song specifically when she wrote that the Blue Album “charmed listeners across genres with catchy radio-ready power pop tunes.” The nine-note lick that catapults us out of the guitar solo into the stratosphere seals the deal: 92 percent power pop.

“Undone—The Sweater Song”

The first Weezer song ever written and a conscious attempt to mimic the Velvet Underground—art rock or proto-punk for sure, but definitely not power pop! VU gave “The Gift” of spoken word; the voices working out rides to the after party are Matt Sharp, roadie extraordinaire Karl Koch, and fan club sweetheart Mykel Allan. Then, more existential Beat poetry (this time exploring Cartesian dualism, like any geek rocker should) over an off-kilter, major-six-sharp-nine riff acknowledged as “almost a complete rip-off ” of Metallica’s “Welcome Home (Sanitarium).”

The dada prepared piano outro is less “Revolution” and more “Revolution 9.” All this trippy oddness is more Pavement than Plimsouls, driving down the power pop quotient…only jangly in a slantedenchanted sort of way. Modulating up a minor third for the solo is straight out of the Kinks’ playbook though, and the chorus changes are identical to the Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie,” a milestone on the road between garage rock and power pop.

Rivers said “it perfectly encapsulates Weezer to me—you’re trying to be cool like Velvet Underground, but your metal roots just pump through unconsciously.” Barely 49 percent power pop, and if this is Rivers’ definitive Weezer song, the band as a whole might fall just short of membership in the genre.

“Surf Wax America”

The opening riff sounds more rockabilly than surf, like it fell out of Dwight Twilley’s guitar case on his way to record “I’m On Fire” (whose bridge echoes “Norwegian Wood”).

There’s a Californian cowboy here. His smug choice of surfboard as basic transportation might well be substituted for horse and saddle. The requisite violent aggression box is checked—it’s snotty and pissy, ramps into a Maidenesque gallop, and culminates in imminent death in the riptide. Drummer Pat Wilson’s punk blast beats up the ante on tempo from the sauntering, swaggering grooves of traditional power pop.

The Beach Boys influence is paramount here, thematically as well as harmonically in the stony vocal breakdown. Smoke dope! Eighty-four percent power pop and proud.

“Say It Ain’t So”

That charmingly dissonant major-sharp-nine chord from “Undone” appears again; its bent vibe pairs well with the theme of generational alcohol use and abuse. There’s a touch of Jimi Hendrix in the bluesy faux-jazz licks, and incisive syncopated reggae chanks set up the hugely heavy chorus crashes, flanked by feedback. The bridge resolving by tritone into the guitar solo is one of the most jarring shifts accepted in recent popular music (although a similar move gets used in the chorus to “Only In Dreams”). Not so much power pop—19 percent.

“In The Garage”

See “In My Room,” if you’re a Beach Boy. The introverted headspace is power pop enough, but then Rivers expressly names his favorite band KISS, confirming Weezer’s heavy metal core. KISS’s “shock rock” antics are paralleled in Weezer’s ambivalent embrace of gimmickry, and the way that the Blue Album toes the “joke band” line (whereas power pop is a more earnest style).

We’re harmonica-heavy again here—and though it’s used incidentally in the Romantics’ “What I Like About You,” the Knack’s “Good Girls Don’t,” and Big Star’s “Life Is White,” to my ears, early Weezer relies on harmonica in a way that harkens back to a time before power pop. And the Dungeons & Dragons references scream “Geek rock! Nerd rock! Dork rock!” A related, but more precocious and specific style. Fifty-eight percent power pop.

“Holiday”

See “On A Holiday,” if you’re a Beach Boy. The first line “Let’s go away for a while” references the gorgeous Pet Sounds instrumental of the same name. Beat poetry reappears as Rivers calls out Kerouac by name; and it doesn’t get much geekier than the “bivouac” slant rhyme. The stacked “heartbeat” harmonies and cocksure delivery make this actually pretty darn power pop—88 percent.

“Only In Dreams”

Length alone pulls this one out of power pop contention—tight song structures are a power pop prerequisite that Weezer frequently eschews. Traces of jazz can be heard in the improvisatory, impressionistic approach, and around 6:10 it gets impressively dissonant as the guitars bend into microtones recalling the über-futuristic approach of space rockers Hum (who are probably only three or four percent power pop themselves). Only 12 percent power pop.

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There are a few scattered power pop moments in Weezer’s post-Blue catalog.

Think “(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To” off of Raditude, or the sublime Pinkerton B-sides “I Just Threw Out the Love of my Dreams” and “Devotion,” but they generally didn’t get any more power pop as their career pressed on.

Averaging the above scores gives us a power pop quotient of 57.5 percent for the Blue Album as a whole. So while Weezer probably doesn’t quite qualify as a power pop band on the whole, they may have started out as one with the Blue Album.

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Daniel Brummel, M.M. is perhaps best known as the leader of the power pop-influenced groups Ozma and Sanglorians, and has also performed in Weezer, Nada Surf, Spain, Scott & Rivers, and The Elected. He is a veteran music educator who holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music composition, and he composed the music for Jenji Kohan’s Renaissance Faire dramedy American Princess on Lifetime. Formerly the Dean of the California College of Music, Daniel now serves as Chief Academic Officer for Point Blank Music School in LA.

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➡️ Go All The Way: A Literary Appreciation of Power Pop ⬅️

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