Review Summary: Raditude may not be a return to form but it's definitely a step up, hitting the fun, power pop sound that Make Believe and The Red Album struggled to achieve.
It’s a common trait for a review of a post-Pinkerton Weezer album to comment on the bands rapid descent into the gutters of their once-promising career simply because it’s a fact that haunts every single one of their fans who found The Blue Album and Pinkerton to be classic albums; the type that indicate a long and promising career ahead. Truth is, despite being held up against this ridiculously high bar, most of what Weezer has put out since then has been bad in any context. While Maladroit and The Green Album allowed fans to retain that glimmer of hope for the band to climb out of the musical sewer, Make Believe and The Red Album shut the pothole lid and hauled a bag of bricks on top for good measure. Needless to say, expectations weren’t very high when Weezer announced they were back in the studio less than a year after The Red Album’s release for what would be their 7th LP.
Everything regarding the press releases around Raditude seemed to revolve around a single focal point – fun – as if the band wanted to remind their fanbase that it’s been an important element of Weezer’s music since the beginning. Everything from the title (suggested by none other than Rainn Wilson, aka Dwight from The Office) to the flying dog cover art (which is
not photoshopped apparently) to the tracklists continuation of the not-so-subtle dry humour displayed on The Red Album (‘Can’t Stop Partying’ vs. ‘Everybody Get Dangerous’) seemed to act as a hinting nudge from the band that they were still enjoying themselves and what they do. Perhaps the most bizarre news regarding Raditude came in the form of Jermaine Dupri and Lil Wayne’s involvement in ‘Cant Stop Partying’ but let’s be honest, was anyone genuinely shocked? Still, old time fans refused to be amused, or at least, they’d hide their grins with a smug smirk if they thought anyone was looking.
The most important of all this build up came in the form of ‘(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To’, the album opener, when it was announced as the lead single. A video was released that once again showed the young ruffians getting up to all sorts of shenanigans but more significantly, the single forced a thought into the heads of those who were daring enough to enjoy it: would this be Raditude’s ‘Pork and Beans’? A catchy song in an album full of duds? Can I really handle more Weezer-induced disappointment/heartbreak? Fortunately for you, Raditude isn’t a one hit wonder. Weezer’s latest LP reveals itself as the culmination of the radio-friendly, power pop sound they’ve attempted to craft since The Green Album. Look at it this way: they’ve swung and missed so many times that surely it would only seem eventual that at some point the band was due for a home run.
The aforementioned opener is as catchy as anything Weezer has done with its spoken word bridge building up to a sing-a-long chorus, prominent with backing vocals. By the time the handclaps of ‘I’m Your Daddy’ kick in, it’s clear what the listener is in for. ‘Tripping Down The Freeway’ is as simple as it is fun with a melodic, almost anthemic chorus, even throwing in a guitar solo to add a little spice to the formula, while ‘Let It All Hang Out’ duly follows that formula to the tee. Raditude’s strength is in the way these songs can be thrown on and enjoyed for what they are; fun, short pop songs that disguise their utter meaninglessness in a polished frenzy of hooks and ridiculous lyrics.
Raditude is almost entirely comprised of lyrics that follow the same trend of dry (almost sarcastic), geeky, self-parody humour that Rivers excels at. This is exemplified with ‘Can’t Stop Partying’, where Rivers delivers lines like ‘I gotta have patron / I gotta have E’ and ‘All the girls in the corner getting loose’ in a deliberately deadpan manner. The ridiculous lyrical trend continues throughout many of the songs, so expect lines such as ‘I’ll take you out to dinner at Palermo’s / Spinach cheese fondu’ to grace your ears. As much as Weezer refuse to take themselves seriously, however, the band proves that they are in fact entirely capable of toning it down with ‘Put Me Back Together’ (another album highlight) and ‘I Don’t Want To Let You Go’. The former is a soft-rocking ode to the girl who keeps Rivers in tact, while the latter contains quick, almost spoken word verses and a sorrowful chorus, a far cry from the overall nature of the rest of this album, and Weezer’s discography for that matter. Both songs are cliché-ridden, obvious and light, but they pull it off.
Unfortunately, the painful lows of songs like ‘Beverly Hills’ off Make Believe or ‘American Gigolo’ off Maladroit exist but to a much lesser extent than anything Weezer have released in the past few years. ‘Love Is The Answer’ is the re-recorded scrap off a Make Believe session, which was later picked up and recorded by Sugar Ray with a guest spot by Cuomo. The new Raditude version is a far cry from that done by those surly, handsome surfer boys in all of their funky 90s glory, and while Hindi interludes do somehow emphasize that love is indeed the answer in the Cuomo universe, it doesn’t really work this time and seems completely out of place at the back end of this record. It is, however, not as bad as ‘In The Mall’ which is as boring as it is uninspired and is duly the song most reminiscent of the very bad Weezer are capable of lowering themselves to.
To put the praise into perspective, Raditude isn’t Weezer back to their pre-millenium greatness. Not even close. Instead, it’s the sound of the band polishing their recent exploits to a decent level of success; a trait which is admittedly a huge jump from miserably failing with this very same direction just a year ago. It’s completely shallow, ridiculous, mainstream, commercial, radio friendly, overproduced, and superficial and it’s a sound that Weezer have finally found a sweet spot in. The entire nature behind Raditude makes it an album that connects in either one of two ways: love or hate. Those who find this unlistenable will be the same people who didn’t approve of the album title, or the cover art, or the tracklisting, and these will probably be the same people who don’t so much as allow a grin to creep up the side of their faces when Lil Wayne drops the obvious but inevitable ‘Weezer in this Weezy’ line during his guest spot. They’ll question over and over again how a band that created albums as good as Pinkerton or The Blue Album could end up creating this poppy, radio garbage. Too bad. At least the rest of us are having fun.
