It’s got to be a pain in the ass being Rivers Cuomo. On the one hand, he’s a talented songwriter and solid vocalist who happens to front the only band in the last 20 years that’s made half a go out of turning power pop into a steady career; on the other, he’s been dogged by ridiculous expectations for just about as long as anyone has known his name. Weezer’s 1994 debut was a fine album, offering a sweet burst of tuneful humor during a time when it was fashionable to be neither tuneful nor humorous, but to hear people talk about it now — or 1996’s Pinkerton, an album everyone hated when it came out — you’d think Cuomo spent his first few years as a recording artist as Lennon, McCartney, and Dylan rolled into one.

Cuomo didn’t help himself by quickly cultivating a reputation for being a mercurial weirdo, which a surprising number of people seem to equate with artistic genius — although that whole “genius” label hasn’t stopped embittered fans from picking each post-Pinkerton record apart while bellyaching about sellout moves like “Keep Fishin’” or “Beverly Hills.” If you count yourself among this crowd, everything you need to know about this album is summed up in its ridiculous, Rainn Wilson-provided title, but just in case you need to read the words, here’s a two-sentence review:

Nope, this one doesn’t sound like Pinkerton either. You bitches can go back in your holes, ’cause it’s going to be a long, long winter. (more…)