The One Where I Defend Weezer

My very first concert was Weezer at the Blossom Amphitheater when I was 16 (I think?). My dad took me, Alex, and my best friend. Weezer was my favorite band at the time, and I was wholly convinced that it was the best night of my life. I don't know why I thought that. It's not like I slept with Rivers Cuomo or anything. Regardless, I loved them the way only a teenager can love a band (it was the same blind, adoring love I brought to the Smiths, Ben Folds, and bands far more embarrassing). I'm glad they were my first concert, and I'm glad my dad took me, and I'm glad that Little Alex wrote an essay about it and made fun of me for being so annoying and weird. I'm also glad the A.V. Club is around to remind me, and you, and all of us that Weezer isn't the horrible band we all think they are now. I mean, I am still not going to buy that new album. It seems pretty bad. But there was a time when I used to pore over the pages of Spin magazine, reading articles about Rivers Cuomo holing up in his room and writing literally hundreds of pop songs, like a less crazy Brian Wilson. I really thought he was going to do different things, and it makes me a little sad, but who knows? It could all turn around.