Strobe Magazine article - May 1994

Print interview with Weezer
Page
Publication	Strobe Magazine
Published	May 1994
Interviewer	Eric Broome
Interviewee	Weezer
Title	Weezer
Format	Print
References	See where this article is referenced on Weezerpedia

Weezer Author: Eric Broome (Strobe Magazine) Published: May 1994 Quirky. Goofy. Wacky. Fun. According to Weezer's biography, these words are all banned from descriptions of this, er, playful local band. "I think we ask in a polite way," says lead singer/songwriter Rivers Cuomo. "I wouldn't get any of those words, but those are just things I've heard repeatedly." Apparently, the "fun" label is Weezer's pet peeve, and the band's self-titled debut does prompt an unfashionable grin here and there. If the cheerfully loose harmonies don't get you, Cuomo's deadpan lyrics will. Best example: the grinding "Undone," which repeatedly advises, "If you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away." Or try the upbeat "Buddy Holly," where Cuomo reassures his girl, "I look just like Buddy Holly / And you're Mary Tyler Moore /don't care what they say about us anyway." Elsewhere, the sarcastic "Surf Wax America" skewers dippy beach dudes, while "In The Garage" slips in images of old Kiss posters, a generational joke a la Richard Linklater. But other tracks aren't so merry. "Say It Ain't So" takes a surprisingly dark look at alcoholism, including its genetic aspect, while "The World Has Turned And Left Me Here" mourns a lost lover, pitifully crying "I made love with your sweet memory 1000 times a night / You said you loved it more than ever. And the NRBQ-like "No One Else" is classic paranoid pop: "I want a girl who will laugh for no one else / When I'm away she puts her makeup on the shelf / When I'm away she never leaves the house..." This sweet/sour mix carries over to the band, which includes Cuomo, guitarist Brian Bell, bassist Matt Sharp, and drummer Patrick Wilson. As we sit on the beach near Sharp's Santa Monica apartment, four distinct personas emerge. Bell is the charmer and, frankly. the only one actively interested in the interview. Sharp is friendly, relaxed and wisecracking, just the sort of guy you'd invite over to watch a Kings game. Wilson is the hilarious enigma, prone to insert non-sequiturs like "Can we talk about people from Chicago now?" Hmm. Then there's Cuomo, who indeed wears Holly-style glasses. Terse, dour and suspicious, he's one tough cookie. Asked once to describe Weezer's sound, he just says, "Our music is very guitar-heavy." You get the picture. The guys inform me it's their first interview. Come on, there must have been others. "You'd figure that, wouldn't ya?" jokes Sharp. No articles at all? Ever? "Just little funny comments in the Weekly," says Wilson, "like 'isn't that George Jefferson's wife?'" Ouch. Weezer - they won't explain the name, but it doesn't refer to asthma sufferers or the Our Gang character either - formed in early '92. The members met in L.A., but they're all transplants: Bell from Tennessee, Sharp from D.C., Wilson from New York and Cuomo from Connecticut. "Everyone I've met out here isn't from here," smiles Bell. "And the people who are from Holly wood are pretty out there. They wish they were from somewhere else!" "We pretty much moved out here to be rock stars." continues Sharp. "And then we all realized we were total idiots." "And then we all got dissed by women," adds Wilson. "And then we all started writing songs," says Cuomo, who planned to be a guitarist before girl-troubles awoke the composer in him. The four began playing the L.A. circuit, hoping for a break. During the day, Cuomo "counted people as they came into an art gallery," while Wilson and Sharp both sold tanning lotion by phone. Pale as they are, the two still miss those simple times. "I had a good life," muses Wilson. "Now I just sit at home and think about working out to Tony Little tapes." DGC's Todd Sullivan eventually signed Weezer last June, and the band flew to New York's Electric Lady studios to record with producer Ric Ocasek. Their memories of Ocasek are less than academic. "His wife. [supermodel Paulina] is gorgeous!" gushes Bell. "They're really nice - some of the nicest people I've met." Cuomo adds that Ocasek tinkered little with Weezer's sound. A hint of Cars seems to creep into the synthesizers on "Buddy Holly," but Cuomo says it's pure coincidence. "I can tell you Ric hated that," he says. "He asked me to take it off." Recording questions are fine, but don't bother asking Cuomo about songwriting. "We have an address you can write for the lyrics," he says. "Other than that, I don't really feel like talking about it." Well, how much of the music does he write? "80%." Um, o.k. Try another angle. Judging from "Say It Ain't So," is he especially hostile toward alcohol abuse? "Not since I wrote the song. I'm slowly becoming an alcoholic." The confession isn't convincing. With such a curious blend of attitudes, Weezer may have trouble making commercial headway. They're too tuneful and groomed for the grunge crowd, yet they're. probably far too noisy for power-pop lovers. It may be a rough road. "Yeah," agrees Bell with a grin, "we're pretty much fucked up all around!" Everyone laughs loudly, even Cuomo. Laughing at misery the perfect contradictory Weezer image.