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Private Message

Saturday, August 9, 2008

“Private Message” is a song from the band’s aborted Early Album 5 sessions, which transpired during the spring and summer of 2002 (both predating and following the release of Maladroit). It’s a love song  with some pretty mystifying couplets, especially when heard in succession:

I want you so badly
Too bad that you slammed me
And when you are reading the words I write
You think that I’m just some dumb horny guy
I’m trying to show you
A hint of my coolness
But I can’t give up on the secret deed [deep?]
‘Cause love is so empty when you can cheat

The first version we have is from 4/21, featuring a great falsetto introduction from Brian Bell, some melodic transitional guitar leads, and solid (if plain) backup vocals. There’s also a wanking guitar solo that’s alright, and a passable outro that reprises the falsetto of the introduction, as if to say, “That was the beginning of the song; this is the end.” It’s by the numbers, but it’s pretty good.

By the time the band revisited the song on 7/02, Cuomo had decided he wanted to be classic, and with that came the addition of (pointless) piano. Two weeks later, on 7/16, Cuomo had canned it: the performance more or less echoes the 4/21 take, minus the falsetto introduction. Cuomo tries to do it in the end, but it’s worse than Bell’s. The recording is definitely crunchier and crisper, for all that’s worth.

Regardless, the acoustic version we have is best. It’s a more natural setting for the song. The origin of the recording is up to debate: band historian Karl Koch claims it is from the 11/03/02 acoustic show at “the Hotel Cafe” in Los Angeles, but there’s a suspect lack of room noise on the MP3 (as with the other song claimed to be from the show, “Everybody Wants a Chance to Feel All Alone”). Koch says that both of these songs are referenced in writing to have been home-recorded on 10/22/02 but “don’t seem to exist,” conjecturing that they are mis-dated references to the two Hotel Cafe MP3s; it is my opinion that it’s the other way around, and what we have are in fact the “lost” 10/22/02 recordings, while nothing from the Hotel Cafe show has yet surfaced (very unfortunate: it would be great to hear an early version of “Peace” and a clutch of songs we don’t have in any form at all).

Also noteworthy about the acoustic version: it served as the springboard for Brian Bell’s own interpretation of the song, which he did with his side project the Relationship and posted briefly on his Myspace. I have yet to hear it, but he later took the verse chord progression and reworked it in his own song, “It’s Easy,” which was recorded for Make Believe without making the cut; the band’s acoustic demo of the song would later be released as an iTunes bonus track for The Red Album.

Filed in Early Album 5, The Grand Playlist | | Comments (49)

Keep Fishin’

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Speaking of Homie, Rivers Cuomo introduced “Think About You” from the same show they played “Hot Tub” by comparing the opening riff to the Sesame Street theme song. The audience laughed, Fred Eltringham counted off the song, and indeed the opening chord progression bore a striking resemblance — but it wouldn’t be the last time Weezer fans would hear the similarity.

In fact, I find the beginning to “Keep Fishin’” so much like that of “Think About You” that I have to wonder if it is not some extremely thorough rewrite of that Homie original (the two do not share a COR number so perhaps that’s a bit far-fetched; either way, “Fishin'” was Cuomo’s return to the riff, conscious or not). There’s a bit of a temporal gap there: “Think About You” was written in 1994 (right after “Clarinet Waltz” and right before Pinkerton’s “No Other One” — two songs radically different from “Think About You”) then finally played live in 1997; “Keep Fishin’” didn’t percolate until 2001, released finally in 2002 on Maladroit.

The album version we have is a pretty good piece of power pop, and one of the brighter spots of Weezer’s fourth record. It’s one of the clearest band efforts the group had released since at least Pinkerton — Pat Wilson’s rolling drum intro establishes the song’s upbeat personality, and Brian Bell’s vocal echoes in the verse might very well be the clearest showcasing of his voice on any Weezer album to that point (except, of course, the lead line or two he takes for the bridge to “El Scorcho”). In fact, the band’s performance is pretty great on the whole, with the pretty, poppy doo-ahh backups on the chorus, a solo that (while brief) provides the relief that Cuomo wouldn’t be adhering to the vocal melody mimic formula of The Green Album any longer.

I have nineteen versions of this song, which is, frankly, too much. Three of those versions are officially issued. Aside from the album version, there is the “radio remix” that Geffen commissioned when the song was released as Maladroit’s second single, which was actually re-recorded with a click track and is, in my opinion, the definitive version. It bypasses Wilson’s drum intro for some quick acoustic chords, an overexposure of bright pop guitars, and bass that’s actually audible (revealing Scott Shriner’s rather impressive work). The outro is also rearranged, nixing those somewhat-annoying spoken word backups for a neat little interplay between Rivers and Brian — which make for an admittedly dumb-as-hell refrain, “Waste my days (and get a job).”

There’s also the Franklin Mint remix that was issued as the b-side to the US retail CD-single for the song, which is basically drummer Wilson rebuilding the song as a piece of MIDI muzak. Hm.

The other clutch of “Keep Fishin’” variants we have are from the exhaustively-documented Maladroit sessions, as offered for MP3 download on Weezer.com as they unfolded (and before Geffen realized what was happening and ended the band’s generosity). The very earliest we have is from the DC Demos of 5/27/01, when bass duties were still carried by Mikey Welsh. It’s a sloggier, slower version that is otherwise unremarkable. By that December’s Extended Hyper Midget Tour, Shriner had replaced Welsh; we have two takes from successive nights of that month, which were “shred-worthy” in Cuomo’s post-facto opinion, but ultimately disposable.

From here, we have thirteen versions from the Maladroit sessions dating from December 20th ’01 to the following February 13th. A fine tune, but no thanks.

Filed in A-Sides, Maladroit | | Comments (77)

The World Has Turned And Left Me Here

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Pinkerton is the closest Weezer has ever come to a bona fide concept album, but I still think Blue has a kind of continuity to it. Between songs like “In The Garage” and “Only In Dreams,” there’s a common theme of the outcast nerd archetype (leading to the fake genre many claim Weezer birthed: “geek rock”), in spite of the record’s lack of a discernible timeline.

As chronicled in Rivers’ Edge: The Weezer Story (a dated and mostly shitty book), Cuomo has gone on record to say that “The World Has Turned And Left Me Here” is actually a narrative extension of the preceding track, “No One Else.” As we’ve discussed previously, that song is the story of an abusive, misogynistic boyfriend — or, as Cuomo puts it, “the jealous obsessive in me freaking out on my girlfriend.” “The World Has Turned…” is, again in Cuomo’s words, “the same guy wondering why she’s gone.”

With this in mind, a sad song becomes just a little bit sadder. The heavy-hearted, chugga-chugga rhythm track (augmented by a pretty acoustic lead, echoing former guitarist Jason Cropper’s riff on “My Name Is Jonas”) provides a fitting backdrop for Cuomo’s whimpers, as occasionally embellished by Matt Sharp and Brian Bell’s concise harmonies. The desperation and self-doubt are clear in the near-schizophrenic lyrics: “I talked for hours to your wallet photograph / And you just listened / You laughed, enchanted by my intellect / Or maybe you didn’t…”

Because it’s Blue, a kick-ass solo soon ensues, as does a rhythm guitar outro that raises the heart rate just a bit. There’s something distinct about the counterpoint of the “do you believe what I sing now?” backups on the final chorus, though; I can’t quite place it, but it’s an otherworldly kind of sound and feeling unlike that of any other Weezer song. It feels larger than life.

Some interesting factual anomalies about the song: it is one of the few Blue tunes Cuomo co-wrote with drummer Pat Wilson, before he decided to flex an even tighter grip on collaborative writing until a brief reprieve in 2008. It was written at the very end of 1991, making it the earliest written song to appear on a Weezer record, and is the only song from the first two albums that has not been played live since 1997 (in 2006, Cuomo explained that they “felt it wouldn’t go over that well” live).

Filed in The Blue Album, The Very Best | | Comments (73)

Hot Tub

Monday, August 4, 2008

The Weezer discography is one fraught with criminal omissions. Why didn’t “We Go Together,” “Broken Arrows” or “Diamond Rings” make Maladroit? How did songs like “O Girl” manage to elude The Green Album, or official release of any kind? How can a song as good as “Longtime Sunshine” have been recorded and attempted time and again, only to wither in Rivers Cuomo’s closet for over a decade — and even then, only seeing release on a demos compilation?

It’s true that Cuomo often overlooks his brightest gems. Even up to the present day, simple song selection often severely compromises the quality of Weezer’s output (which is to say, better songs are recorded and sometimes even mixed, but simply aren’t put on the album for…reasons). Sometimes there’s an oversight so glaring  it simply boggles the mind. “Hot Tub” is one of those cases.

Even by the time Rivers resuscitated this song for his Boston-based Homie sideproject in 1997, “Hot Tub” had been around for a while. He recorded a home demo of it in July of 1993 (presumably having performed all instruments and voices himself) — so it predated Weezer’s first album by nearly a year. On first listen, it seems pretty obvious why this was never considered for the band. At once, the song comes alive with a Feelies-style rhythm, Princely synth fanfare, and a lead vocal about inviting oneself over to an easy lay’s house to “drink champagne and smoke a bowl.”

Then there’s that chorus, ample with macho confidence: “I wanna get in your hot tub, baby / I wanna get in you now.” It’s the complete antithesis of Blue‘s emotional core, and, considering that at this point in time Rivers and bassist Matt Sharp had a running joke between themselves that white people should not, under any circumstances, attempt to make “funky” music, it’s easy to hear how this song would be discounted. Band historian Karl Koch has even confirmed that Cuomo at one point submitted this song to Tom Jones for his sincere contemplation.

Of course, there’s more to it than that. In the verses, a second vocal track sings in a register so low and suave as to be vaguely comical (have we ever heard Rivers sing so low since?), and the tail end of the chorus implores the girl to get in her car and pick him up, or else, as Cuomo threatens, “I’m gonna put you down.” The image of this wannabe Adonis needing to have his squeeze drive him around is certainly ironic, as is his childish threat to insult her if she doesn’t.

And then there’s that bridge. Suddenly, perfectly, the white-boy funk disappears in a swell classic Weezer distortion, that cheesy synth now a mournful organ, as a plainly vulnerable Cuomo sings some of his very best lines ever:

Sometimes I’m so disappointed
I can’t be more of a man
Sometimes my life feels so empty
Not letting love play her hand
Sometimes I’m so disillusioned
All my relationships fake
I admit this is a problem
To be solved another day

The pelvic thrust of the verse’s bassline returns, but an onslaught of out-of-tune guitars now ruin the mood, and when the chorus returns, the masculine illusion is all but gone, Cuomo sounding pathetic and confused as he tries to corner the girl again. The bridge drops one more time to conclude the song, the first four lines accompanied only by the sad organ, the last four by a bare acoustic guitar.

Simply put, this is one of the greatest, most subtle songwriting triumphs in Cuomo’s catalog. The way he builds up the detestable macho persona we all know and (probably) hate, only to tear it down with a vulnerability and air of regret that one almost never associates with the stereotype…the way that second to last line is delivered in an unexpectedly sensitive falsetto…the gorgeous, contemplative melody that seeps through those confessional words, especially after the dense and dull-witted repetition of the chorus…It’s all brilliant, subtle songwriting. For one song, Cuomo embodies the archetypal man’s man and makes him a portrait of pity.

When Cuomo revived this one for the 11/4/97 show at T.T. the Bear’s in Boston (with Kevin Stevenson of the Shods on guitar, Drew Parsons of American Hi-Fi on bass, and Fred Eltringham of the Gigolo Aunts on drums), he left it mostly intact, except for a critical and thorough revision of that fantastic bridge. Although the vocal melody, lyrics and chord progression are all completely different, the impact and immediacy remains, as does the general intent: I can’t quite make out all the words, but he wails about his fears of loneliness and begs the girl to take him home again. I doubt they’re as spot-on as the 1993 version, but whatever shortcomings might be found there are nearly redeemed by the addition of a euphoric, mind-melting, bleeding-heart guitar solo that completely shreds the outro to beautiful little pieces. I get chills every time.

Even as the band played that night, Cuomo practically dismissed the amazing Homie band as his “goofball country” outlet; during a fan interview with readers of Blender magazine in 2005, Cuomo answered a question about the (apparently finished) Homie album’s release status by saying, “There’s too much garbage out there already.” Whether this is simply self-deprecation or an honest dismissal of some of the best songs he’s ever written, it’s clear that Cuomo, at one point, knew “Hot Tub” was a winner, seeing how he scraped it off a four-years-old demo and made it a set closer in 1997. Either way, one hopes that this song – and the rest of the Homie material – someday sees a much-deserved release.

Filed in Homie, Pre-Blue, The Very Best | | Comments (53)

Knock-Down Drag-Out

Sunday, August 3, 2008

…And in the opposite corner, we have The Green Album. Whereas a gloriously on-edge, unhinged performance like “Getchoo” highlights exactly why Pinkerton is so satisfying even a dozen years on, by 2001 Rivers Cuomo had changed directions. In his mind, that approach now represented the sophomore slump, his biggest commercial failure; while many would be able to simply recognize that their product was too artful or off-beat for a mainstream audience, Cuomo later compared the incident to getting trashed, having a cathartic heart-to-heart with a crowd of strangers at a party, then waking up the next morning, hungover and horrified to remember last night’s revelations. And as it would turn out, that reassessment of his past works stretched back as far as the more personal moments on The Blue Album (recall his Correspondence Board ramblings about the “disneygay” “Only In Dreams”).

Then again, when your misunderstood masterpiece contains a candid portrait of yourself wondering how a Japanese schoolgirl touches herself, what else is there to do than stick your head beneath the sand for a few years and try to disassociate? Producer Ric Ocasek recalls that during the sessions for Green, Cuomo would ruthlessly “coach” bassist Mikey Welsh through scores and scores of takes (many of which Ocasek said were album-worthy to his ears, and virtually indistinguishable), until it was as perfect and bland as could be. Indeed, most of Green feels as though it could have been played by machines; whatever made “Getchoo” click, Cuomo wanted none of it. No flaws, no friction, no soul.

“Knock-Down Drag-Out” is perhaps the very best ambassador for Green‘s modus operandi. Clocking in at a mechanically concise 2 minutes (and eight seconds, for fadeout), the song charges out of the gates as inoffensively as possible, with a rush of Sweet’N Low guitars (my friend has long referred to Green‘s guitar sound as “vomit;” we’ll call it “saccharine vomit”), polished and spitshined to mediocre perfection. Rock crit veteran Mark Prindle concisely sums up the track’s appeal relative to the rest of the album as simply being “faster than the others, [with] great John/Paul harmonies,” which drive it through its catchy-as verses into a perfectly-transitioned chorus. It’s the tale of two lovers at temporary odds, and is typically straightforward in its design, though I do enjoy the imagery of, “Take no prisoners in this knock-down drag-out war.” ‘Knock-down drag-out’ — one of those neat little phrases Cuomo manages to conjure every now and then, like “broken-beaten down” in “The Good Life.” Simple, smart, sounds like what it means.

So yeah: verse, chorus, verse, chorus, abbreviated bridge (all of one line: “Say you love me now”), guitar-solo-as-verse, chorus, verse, and we’re out. But there’s something very appealing going on here. It’s not high art. Emotionally, it does next to nothing for me. But it’s a fast and furious blast of sonic confectionery, a poppy little stint of no-frills vanilla, a one-night stand between early ’60s Beatles and late ’90s post-grunge radio formula. And whether or not it’s saying much, you have to give credit where it’s due: The Green Album is one of the cleanest, cheapest thrills in rock history.

While there seems to be a fair degree of fan hatred for this song, the band apparently knew they were onto something: a survey of live shows from the era reveals that after Green‘s release, this was probably the most-played track from that album not about hash or islands. This much is evidenced by KDDO being issued as a live b-side to the second UK retail CD single for “Keep Fishin’,” a move that was redundant because, if this version is any indication, the band failed to translate its studio flawlessness to the stage. Brian’s added “ahh-ahh” backups on the chorus are a nice idea, however, and Cuomo’s improvised guitar solo handily bests its uninspired album counterpart (highlighting a key Green failing: the lack of development for its songs).

Filed in Live B-Sides, The Grand Playlist, The Green Album | | Comments (25)

Getchoo

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Pinkerton is not just the greatest record Weezer will ever make. It is, in my opinion, one of the greatest records anybody has; though it’s not the best record of all time, it might very well be my favorite. And when you’ve got a record that boasts “Falling For You,” “Tired Of Sex,” “Across the Sea” and “Butterfly,” it’s easier to lose sight of the (technically) simpler ones.

But let us not forget that “Getchoo” is a flawless song in its own right. Or rather, it is a beautifully flawed song, with every little crack and failing in its right place — indicative of one of Pinkerton‘s greatest strengths as an album. With a buzz-saw power slide, this song’s opening fanfare takes the tension and release of “Tired of Sex” even higher, the perfect track 2 rockout to kick your ass and leave you dang near senseless (leaving the freshly exhausted listener ready to exhale and really take in the words of the more downbeat, reflective “No Other One” — inspired sequencing at work). Here, Cuomo’s lyrics are pretty simple (to wit, chorus: “Getchoo,” “uh-huh,” repeat), but there’s enough interesting imagery (“Sometimes I push too hard / Sometimes you fall and skin your knees”) to offset the more standard love-gone-awry cliches (“It used to be a game, now it’s a crying shame”), creating a smart synthesis of an instantly relatable theme and enough of a personal spin to keep you keen.

Most importantly, Cuomo fucking means it: the way his voice quivers and breaks, seething at the seams, ready to burst. Brian Bell fucking means it, too, when he cuts in with his just-right backup vocals at all the just-right times. Matt Sharp means it when the surging bass reaches for the ends of the fretboard on the bridge, and Cuomo means it when when he taps into that scorching solo immediately thereafter (one of the best neck burners in his recorded repertoire), followed by that euphoric, maddened, “YEAH!” Pat Wilson fucking means it with every last one of his essential fills (especially the decimal blur at 2:25, and the spine-snapping silence breaker five seconds later), and everyone means it in that rollercoaster climax that is the final 20-second charge.

“Getchoo” is the sound of a band that really, really fucking means it.

About those last 20 seconds: as real as Weezer gets. Cuomo wailing like a wounded animal in those final white flashes before death, a perfectly sour-noted Bell and Sharp chanting “this is beginning to hurt” in the background (a terminal flashback to the beginning of the song’s lyric), the frantic and frankly sexual rise of the screaming guitars, Wilson’s precise and thunderous bludgeoning of the kit…All before that final release, that moment of the soul finally leaving the skull, and everyone’s left a flushed and exhausted mess on the floor. “Orgasmic” is a cliche of sonic description on the order of “epic,” but divorce that final swell from its narrative context and it becomes the one rock passage in recorded history that can be said to most closely resemble the way an orgasm feels.

It’s pretty epic, too.

Filed in Pinkerton, The Very Best | | Comments (42)

She Who Is Militant

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

This one stems from the earliest of sessions for Make Believe, which actually began in 2002, before Maladroit was even released. Considering none of these songs made the final album (and because the sessions have a very distinct sound not at all like the album for which they were initially recorded), fans have copped to calling them the Early Album 5 demos. That’s how I’ll be referring to them, as well.

“She Who Is Militant” is one of the songs that was attempted on the very first day of recording (3/08), a project that ran for months before being scrapped entirely. Rivers Cuomo was really changing things up and challenging himself in trying to write very un-Weezery lyrics during this era, and I think this song contains some of its weirdest lines: 7/02’s version features the refrain, “Oh, if you ever grow your brain / I’ll be there, I’ll be there,” while 7/16 (with completely rewritten lyrics) has lines like, “Little children don’t appeal to you and your cowboy ideal,” and “I need a tissue for my nose.”

Some analysis reveals that this is a song about a girl who simply isn’t interested in a relationship right now: most tellingly, the 7/02 version begins, “It looks like you were never going to be my queen / It looks like there are too many places that you want to see.” It’s not a particularly good one: from the overwrought lyrics to the ham-handed riff to the uninspired vocal melody. The 7/16 version is distinguished for having a decent harmonized guitar solo and the best mix of the bunch, but even then I find precious little to salvage “She Who Is Militant” – a reminder that even some of the most intriguing Cuomo titles attend completely uninteresting songs.

Strangely enough, Cuomo marks “Militant” as having been an early version of Make Believe single “This Is Such A Pity,” but the musical relationship between the two is very thin – over the course of three years and many rewrites, little more than the general chord structure remains intact.

In all, the Early Album 5 demos marked a period of Weezer branching out into uncharted territory, with quite a few misses for every hit. “She Who Is Militant” is one of those failed experiments.

Filed in Early Album 5 | | Comments (14)

The Dawn

Sunday, July 27, 2008

It’s kind of surprising to find that this is not an Early Album 5 demo – it sure sounds like one. In fact, I think the lead guitar line was recast on “Hey Domingo!” from that era. But instead, this is a song that surfaced during Weezer’s 2001 Extended Hyper Midget Tour, technically making it an early contender for Maladroit (if anything). The song was played and bootlegged numerous times on that tour but, to my knowledge, has never surfaced in any other form.

Speaking of unconventional songforms from this era, I can’t think of a better example than “The Dawn.” The first minute and a half of the song is spent on some instrumental rockage (negligible, aside from the pleasant “Domingo!”-esque lead), and the final minute is filled by two brief verses (with the same lyrics) and an even briefer outro.

The lyrics are, in their entirety: “And as the day goes on / The world is holding on / Amuse yourself and I can’t wait / I wake up with the dawn.” Kind of cool; I can’t think of any other Weezer song that is simply four lines.

I have five versions of this song (11/15, 11/24, 11/29, 12/02, 12/06), but they’re all pretty indistinguishable. Although Maladroit was an album marred by poor track selection and sequencing, the band was right to abandon this one. Granted, the 12/02 version does begin with Cuomo saying, a la Kermit the Frog, “I like the way you smack my ass.” I guess that one’s a keeper.

Filed in Live Only | | Comments (19)

Island in the Sun

Saturday, July 26, 2008

“Island in the Sun” is the most released song of Weezer’s career. Too released. More released than any one song ever should be. To wit:

THE (MAYBE IN)COMPLETE “ISLAND IN THE SUN” DISCOGRAPHY

  1. The Green Album (2001)
  2. Radio-only promo CD (2001)
  3. UK retail CD single #1 (2001; with “Island in the Sun” music video CD-ROM)
  4. UK retail CD single #2 (2001)
  5. UK retail yellow vinyl 7-inch (2001)
  6. Japanese retail CD single (2001)
  7. The Lion and the Witch EP (2002; live)
  8. Japanese Maladroit CD (2002; Green Album version)
  9. Australian Maladroit CD (2002; Green Album version)
  10. UK Maladroit CD (2002; Green Album version)
  11. Video Capture Device DVD (2004; music video Version 1)
  12. Video Capture Device DVD (2004; music video Version 2)
  13. UK “Beverly Hills” CD single (2005; live)
  14. Japanese “Beverly Hills” CD single (2005; live)
  15. “Island in the Sun (Live)” iTunes single (2005; live)
  16. UK Make Believe CD (2005; live)
  17. Japanese Make Believe CD (2005; live)

SOUNDTRACKS/MISC. APPEARANCES

  1. Holiday in the Sun movie (2001; used as theme song, as covered by the Olsen Twins)
  2. Island in the Sun karaoke single (2001; as imitated by a band called Obscure; incls. regular, Karaoke Remix, Tiki Bar Remix, and Unplugged Remix)
  3. Mr. Deeds soundtrack (2002)
  4. Triple J’s Hottest 100 compilation (2002)
  5. Smallville: The Talon Mix soundtrack (2003)
  6. Aquamarine soundtrack (2006; as covered by Emma Roberts)
  7. The Definitive Tom Dunne Vol. 01: 2000-2006 compilation (2006)
  8. Lance Armstrong: Run Longer Nike+ Playlist (2007)

And probably scores more.

In truth, it is a great song. Great enough to warrant 17 official Weezer releases and a handful of spinoffs and soundtrack releases (including shows like The Sopranos and The Simpsons, which use the song but have never issued it on a soundtrack)? Maybe not. I mean, in Japan and the UK, the song was released on three consecutive, official, studio albums: The Green Album, then Maladroit less than a year later (with the Green version simply being tacked onto the end — not even a different mix!), then Make Believe (as a live rendition). What the fuck!

It really is Green‘s top standout, though. “Sun,” along with “Photograph” and “Hash Pipe,” is one of the album’s few songs not mixed and compressed to sound middled-out and bland — it actually has some depth, a sense of space. The arrangement is one of the album’s sharpest, as well: the verse bassline is one of the best of the era, lending the song its central buoyancy (if you replaced its danceability with something more plodding (like more Weezer-typical straight eighth notes), it probably wouldn’t have been a hit). The intro, production of the lead rhythm guitar, addition of a second (acoustic) rhythm guitar on the verse, the simple lead line, those great “ooooh” backups (which, to be fair, shouldn’t have been all but buried), etc. The bridge rockout is predictable (practically inevitable, coming from these guys; see also “Burndt Jamb”), but works nicely here, and the guitar solo is one of the few instances of the Green album verse-melody-solo working so well. The lyrics are nice, as well — a rare example of Cuomo’s purposefully detached lyrics working to a song’s advantage.

The live version we have from The Lion and the Witch EP is somewhat disposable (though still probably my favorite cut from that disc), but I do like Cuomo’s delay-heavy outro, especially when it’s just him singing at the end with Scott Shriner’s bass for company. A lovely little ending, which certainly fares better than the studio version’s simple fadeout.

The other live version we have (are there really no more than two between all those releases?) is interesting for taking a slightly faster tempo (a little more energetic than its usual performance), for Pat Wilson’s unusually busy (pretty cool) drum work, and for Cuomo’s new and much improved solo. The band attempts a similar outro to the Lion and the Witch version, but it doesn’t take nearly as well.

Finally, of the live versions in any form of circulation, there is the “re-worked” arrangement from the Extended Hyper Midget Tour of 2001 (live cuts from which were, for a time, distributed to fans via weezer.com). It is comparable to the other two live cuts we have, minus any kind of outro at all.

And believe it or not, there are versions of this song that have (thus far) escaped official release! Cuomo’s home demo from 1999 is an endearing take on the song, with a synth-organ on the bridge rather than a rockout. However, as some fans have noted, to contrast his vocal performance here with his on “Velouria” just a year prior is remarkable. In 1998, Cuomo’s voice was the best it has ever sounded; in 1999, he sounds like a pitch-challenged teenager coughing his way through this first home recording. The only tenable explanation is that he is trying (quite audibly) to sound like Liam Gallagher, as Oasis was a huge deliberate influence of Cuomo’s at this time, and (just as audibly) failing.

There’s also a 17-second clip of an early full-band recording of this song that has been lifted from the Video Capture Device DVD. It is notably more upbeat and uptempo, and with a crazy solo that Karl Koch had apparently grafted into the mix from “No More Confusin’,” which was demoed several times with Weezer at Cuomo’s home studio. Recorded in 2000, these come from the uncirculated “October Demos.”

Two music videos were released for this song. One was directed by “Hash Pipe” director Marcos Siega, which is notable for both the presence of Mikey (lookin’ sharp) and the absurd Mexican wedding setting. The band was understandably displeased with the result, so they reunited with Spike Jonze (Mr. “Buddy Holly”) to do one of the band playing outdoors with various zoo animals. It marks a bizarre point in the band’s history when Mikey was “missing” (in rehab, actually) and the band still had not yet found Scott to forcibly replace him, so the band is erroneously presented as a three-piece.

Filed in A-Sides, Demos, Live B-Sides, The Green Album, The Lion and the Witch, The Very Best | | Comments (68)

O Girl

Friday, July 25, 2008

Not to be confused with Green Album closer “O Girlfriend,” this song surfaced live during the initial reunion tour in the summer of 2000, and was briefly considered for that same album (funnily enough, the era also produced a song called “Girlfriend,” which has nothing to do with “O Girlfriend” or “O Girl” — it has yet to surface). The song was issued on the semi-official, free MP3 Summer Songs 2000 compendium, a live collection of songs from that era. The fact that only one of these songs actually made Green (“Hash Pipe”) speaks to Rivers Cuomo’s ridiculous spate of productivity during this time (caveat: “Dope Nose” and “Slob” were both later rehashed for Maladroit).

The official SS2K version is a blistering live performance — to again reference Brian Bell’s “Hard Day’s Night meets Helmet” quotation about this rehearsal period, the verses do actually sound like a hard rock take on early Beatles, and the chorus does have a dark bent to it. The harmonies that introduce the song are a bit weak here, but on paper they’re fantastic: Weezer has always been a very talented vocal band, and the absence of these kind of touches would be sorely felt on Green. Bassist Mikey Welsh’s falsetto nod to original foil Matt Sharp on the chorus is particularly fitting.

The lyrics are of the typical Green era love song formula, but despite their simplicity they’re actually quite good. I especially enjoy the chorus: “Oh girl, I thought you were a flirt / And too shallow to get hurt / But now, I see in your eyes / The pain that can’t be just lies / You’re like me.” The three-part vocal arrangements in this song are at their best here, elevating the sentiment’s effect.

The solo is perfect – clearly predating the Green period during which Cuomo decided to simply echo the vocal melody with all of his (very brief) guitar spotlights. The fact that this is just one more fine feature in a song that is, less the brief intro, here and gone in approximately 1 minute and 50 seconds, bespeaks a concision not heard since “You Gave Your Love to Me Softly.”

There’s another live bootleg (of considerably worse fidelity) in circulation on a fan-made compilation that has been dubbed “Unofficial Live SS2K” in some circles. It’s not particularly remarkable, aside from being a little less trim. There’s also the studio demo that we have (from May 3, 2000, a date that produced four songs — all of which we’ve heard, other than “You’re Fun to Play With”) balloons to a considerably longer 2:40 — clearly before Rivers decided it was worth truncating. Pat Wilson does great work on this version, with some particularly incisive cymbal work, and many of the chorus guitar leads are more developed (and audible). The exclamatory “yow!” right before that classic Weezer duel guitar solo is a nice touch, too. This demo, along with the official SS2K live cut, are the definitive versions of those we have to date.

Also, going back to all these Mikey-period songs and relistening to them with a decent subwoofer makes me realize just how perfect he was for the band. Here he does a cool little riff at the end of every line, which really helps fill out the arrangement and give it more of a propulsive verve. Discounting the sentimental associations with Matt Sharp (and the fact that he played during the band’s best creative period), Welsh is arguably the best bassist Weezer ever had.

Everything Green should have been? Absolutely.

Filed in Demos, Summer Songs 2000, The Very Best | | Comments (45)