It’s fitting that Jorge Garcia shows up on the cover of Hurley because Weezer is actually very much like Hurley in a lot of ways, especially at this stage in their career. Earlier on they were seen mostly as outcasts, the alternative, who can be liked and enjoyed but not taken one hundred percent seriously. Many years later, they’ve continued to endear themselves to us and it’s apparent that despite their wavering levels of self-confidence, their sturdy resilience has made them among the last men standing. Or, it’s a huge coincidence.
Even without the explicit Hurley-centered symbolism, this album does have an underlying concept, a nostalgic feel at its beginning and its end and occasionally in the middle, too. Most of the looking back is handled in the lyrics, but the presence of familiar guitars from way back is a certain nod in that direction. The last few albums featured those guitars sporadically, but were also experimental affairs offering unheard arrangements, new singers, and switched instruments. They were also largely divisive, the better songs tending to appear up front, leaving the rest of the album as the band’s sandbox. At the very least Hurley holds together better, its weaker songs surrounded if not also embraced by the better tracks.
The album starts right off with “Memories.” The drums and guitars are preceded by a few seconds of orchestral strings tuning up, a bit that works for me in two ways: To announce that what they’re about to do is to be looked at with a little bit of respect, like they’re being sincere and you should treat them that way not only because there’s not a dog flying across the cover; also, as a joke, because when they’re finally all tuned up, normal instruments come in with an unforeseen energy. For all I just wrote about looking back and familiar sounds, the tenacity of “Memories” supersedes even the crunchy percussiveness of Weezer’s best known songs. The lyrics bring back those earliest days but it’s telling that the music is not wistful but happily aggressive, and not just to overcompensate. Moving on, the chords from the verse of the upbeat “Ruling Me” were recently heard in “Pork and Beans” but their simplicity gives way to a more complicated chorus that builds up and breaks down. The third song, “Trainwrecks,” slows things down only a little but also succeeds in getting the album off to a fine start.
“Unspoken” starts on an acoustic guitar and offers the first glimpse into the album’s other dominant sound, an almost demo-ish starkness. Possibly synthesized woodwind flourishes change things up before the song gives itself fully over to the heavy sound that brung them. It’s a pretty good song that gets going late, and might be more interesting as an illustration of Weezer’s choice of arrangements.
“Where’s My Sex?” is one of two songs (also “Smart Girls”) that I feel look cheekily back at “Tired of Sex” off that other honest-to-goodness effort, Pinkerton. The lyrics are sort of funny, sung with a pleasing snarl also heard on Hurley’s opening track. Here’s a song where both writer and listener are in on the fun. Also of note is the rare bridge that’s faster than the rest of the song. Interesting and well done. Less praise can be heaped on the next two tracks, “Run Away” and “Hang On.” “Run Away” is a song that almost makes me wish major 7th chords weren’t invented. There’s a certain connection between the pleading lyrics and that yearning chord, but it’s all well nigh whiny and the high-pitched xylophone only irritates. The raw earnestness of the track is a jarring juxtaposition given the sound and attitude of the previous tracks, but I’m not sure it would have done any better anywhere else on the album. “Hang On” is not quite more of the same, but not very good either, I’d say.
The final three tracks reorient the listener and bring him on home. “Smart Girls” is a bit of an odd one, because it starts with an electronic drum beat that made me fear it would be unnecessarily experimental on an album that doesn’t need it. The song might work best ironically, with the synthesized arrangement married to lyrics that could be interpreted sarcastically. When heard straight, the more typical arrangement of the second half of the song is a welcome one. “Brave New World” might be my favorite track beyond the first three. Its insistent riff and interesting chord sequence really does sound like new ground for the band, rooted however deeply in what we know we like. Finally, “Time Flies” comes along with its drum-machine beat under Rivers’ charming guitar and bittersweet lyrics. The acoustic coda hearkens slightly back to “Butterfly” off Pinkerton, but while it’s not as pretty per se, it’s no less fitting. The abrupt end to the song allows the message to still ring out while curtailing any melodrama. This is a band willing if not happy to look back, but one also clearly not ready to be done with itself.
The deluxe edition has four bonus tracks. In general, these extras on deluxe editions are annoying because often the tracks are far weaker than any that appeared on the album, making their omissions justifiable. But these are annoying for the opposite reason, because two of them were actually good enough to include, if not also to replace “Run Away” and “Hang On.” “I Want To Be Something” would only not fit because it’s clear Rivers has accomplished a great deal in his life, but the feelings are no less real for most of the rest of us. Its appearance might also have undercut the pitch-perfect simplicity of “Time Flies,” so maybe it was the better call. “Represent” is a twin of “Memories” that could have firmed up the middle of the album, but is still enjoyable otherwise. “All My Friends Are Insects” is damned catchy and actually could have worked for this or another album with different lyrics and a longer version of itself. “Viva La Vida” is a curiosity that might have been more interesting with guitars, say, though I’m generally more fine than not with bands covering other bands, a practice too far out of practice nowadays.
In brief: It’s not perfect, but it’s their best in many, many years.
B+