The Shoebox: When Weezer Were Cool

Hats off to Carrie Brownstein for trying to smack some sense into Weezer, as we reported earlier today. She alleges that the band’s latest songs are insulting to its audience - a criticism made no less poignant by the fact that the band has been insulting its audience for years now.

Like the former Sleater-Kinney guitarist/vocalist, we remember a time when Rivers Cuomo and his gang were rightly revered. They enjoyed their halcyon days with probably the only two Weezer albums that will stand the test of time - 1994’s blue album and Pinkerton, which was initially panned upon its 1996 release but eventually (and justly) appreciated as the band’s most artistic-minded, forward-thinking effort.

The four albums that followed those two? Meh. Once the band re-formed earlier this decade, it seemed to be all about the profit motive. Weezer treated their audience like an ATM machine: No matter how bad some of their concerts were, and no matter how shlocky their songs, they knew their impressionable, uncultivated young fans would nibble it up like mice on a chunk of soured cheese.

Still, as Weezer sold themselves out artistically over and over again, their concerts kept selling out too - and with all that money coming in, so the cycle continued, and has right up through today. If Brownstein’s take on their newest material is any indication, we’re not anticipating a change of course anytime soon.

But with all that being said, there was a fleeting moment in the past decade when Weezer proved that they could still be cool - when they pulled a move so radical that it sent Radiohead-level shock waves through the industry. It was in the early ’00s, when Cuomo told his label, management and everyone else around him to fuck off, so that he could handle all things Weezer all by himself.

It was something you’d maybe expect from Pearl Jam, Neil Young or Eminem - not the squeaky, bespectacled 30-year-old dork who still couldn’t seem to grow any facial hair.

That brief episode - which took place shortly before and shortly after the release of Maladroit in 2002 - will go down as of the more intriguing chapters in Weezer’s history, when the book is finally written. And as luck would have it, yours truly was able to witness firsthand Cuomo trying to do everything on his own.

Not too long before Maladroit’s May release, this is what appeared in the mail:

And here’s what was inside:

Look, Riv was so gangsta that he didn’t even put the name of Weezer’s lifelong label, “Geffen,” on the sampler. All the same, the company wound up issuing the album on May 14 of that year.

So, in conclusion: Weezer’s previous bouts of badassery won’t save them now, that much is clear. But no matter how much they sabotage their legacy, we’ll never forget a time in when they actually deserved a rabid fanbase.

And don’t miss these previous installments of “The Shoebox”:

“The Shoebox: Searching For A Mekons Artifact? ‘Looke’ Here”
“The Shoebox: Rick Froberg Gives IndiePit Something Very Cool”
“The Shoebox: Silversun Pickups, Before They Got Big“