One of the biggest stories in rock this spring is that Weezer are back -- and if you feel it's been only a few months since the last time Weezer were back, well, you're right. Almost exactly a year ago, the nerdiest band in the land released their first disc in five years, the homonymous, so-called "Green Album" (Geffen). Mining good-time-pop territory closer to their classic '94 debut, the similarly homonymous "Blue Album" (DGC), than to its commercially disappointing '96 follow-up, Pinkerton (DGC), the disc was a hit with fans and critics alike. Its clangorous lead single, "Hash Pipe," was one of the year's biggest radio and MTV faves, and it firmly re-established the band as rock's premier softies.

Weezer have been playing by their own rules for a long time, so it's no surprise that the release of their fourth and latest album, Maladroit (in stores this week on Geffen), bucks several music-biz conventions. Like the "Green Album," it's far shorter than the average rock disc: its 13 tracks run only 34 minutes. And coming so hot on the heels of its predecessor, it spits in the face of the two- to three-year industry norm for following up a hit album. Frontman Rivers Cuomo sang memorably about his "favorite rock group Kiss" way back on the "Blue Album"; now his band are putting out shorter albums more often the way Kiss, Van Halen, and Aerosmith did in the '70s.

Cuomo is old enough to know that's how great rock legacies are built -- compare Aerosmith's classic string of mid-'70s discs with the two albums Nine Inch Nails and Tool (and Aerosmith, for that matter) put out in the entire '90s and you'll see what I mean. But the coolest retro moves on Maladroit are the songs. Clocking in at between two and three minutes apiece, they're a welcome throwback to the days when Weezer and Green Day preached melodic economy to the alternative-rock masses. As always, the band's devotion to pop comes first, but that doesn't stop them from unleashing some of the meanest cock-rock grooves they've come up with since Pinkerton (their "dark" album). And Cuomo, who famously grew up as an '80s-metal guitar geek in Connecticut, throws a flashy lead break into almost every song.

Put it all together and you get "Dope Nose," the album's first single and an early candidate for big dumb rock hit of the summer. Like every great Weezer song, it's stupid: the only word in the chorus is "oh," and you can hear the guys joking around in the background during the first verse and the guitar solo. Rivers wonders aloud, "Who could beat up your man?", then promises to be there "for the times that you wanna go and bust rhymes real slow." The hooks bite hard, the guitars squeal out of control, and drummer Pat Wilson drops funky accents as if he were playing along with one of those old Aerosmith albums. What the hell does "dope nose" mean? Who cares -- roll down the windows and crank it up.

With its kiddie-pop melodies and bracing wall of guitars, "Dope Nose" is about as commercial as it gets. But from a business standpoint, Weezer have spent much of the last year inching away from the mainstream: the making of Maladroit has been unconventional for more than just its quick turn-around. As the band recorded, they posted MP3s on their official Web site (the outrageously comprehensive and interactive weezer.com) for fans to respond to. Then, as the release date neared, Cuomo fired Weezer's management and began to oversee the band's day-to-day operations himself. Right off the bat, he angered his label by leaking "Dope Nose" to radio without its permission. Factor in the addition of new bassist Scott Shriner, who was playing with LA underground rockers Broken when he was tabbed to replace Boston rock guy Mikey Welsh a few months before the band went into the studio, and it's certainly been an interesting year for Weezer.

Despite all the controversy, the band have been able to maintain -- and maybe even build on -- their momentum coming off the "Green Album." Since launching their comeback with a bunch of dates on the 2000 Warped Tour, they've turned into a touring machine, headlining arenas with a rotating cast of guests like Jimmy Eat World, the Get Up Kids, and Saves the Day. Those are the kind of grassroots pop-punk bands Weezer have been lumped in with since their re-emergence, something that never really made sense given their corporate-rock origins. But now that they're fighting the industry from the inside and touring and recording at the pace of a teenage hardcore band, it almost does. They've turned into the godfathers of emo everyone wants them to be, and that suits them fine.

Maladroit's first four tracks alone should be enough to assure Weezer fans that the band's new self-sufficient ethos is a good thing. "American Gigolo" opens the disc with a monstrous grunge riff, joky falsetto back-up vocals, and a corny pop bridge about how there ain't no hope for Rivers anymore. "Dope Nose" is next, followed by "Keep Fishin'," which matches bittersweet lyrics with cutesy harmony vocals while sharing its loping beat with Green Day's "Longview." The clincher is "Take Control," a scorching riff-rocker with a dark melodic bent and no room for irony. Rivers is always putting busted love affairs behind him in song, but this is the first time he's done it with this kind of wall-shaking intensity.

Maladroit's bruising rock vibe begs comparison with Pinkerton, the disc that almost finished the band off but ultimately played a key role in nurturing the devoted following they have today. Both were produced by Weezer instead of by Ric Ocasek, the legendary Cars singer who did the "Green Album" and the "Blue Album." Pinkerton is far from the humorless disc it's sometimes made out to be (after all, its most famous line is, "I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon"), and the band pour on the hooks with or without Ocasek behind the boards. But Maladroit and Pinkerton embrace a wider, slightly more caustic sonic spectrum than the two Ocasek albums.

Taking their cue from the "Green Album" hit "Island in the Sun," Weezer tone things down a bit in the middle of the disc. Opening with a gentle cascade of weeping guitar chords, the dirgy ballad "Death and Destruction" is one of the biggest left turns the band have ever taken. "I can't say that you love me/So I cry and I'm hurting," moans Rivers at the outset, and the buzzkill has already gone too far by the time one of the group's patented Queen-style climaxes arrives to save the day. "Burndt Jamb" has that sunny "Island" feel, but the song's hippie-fried joke title stops being funny when the band actually break into a tepid lite-funk groove.

Mild diversions aside, Weezer are still all about the rock. Rivers doesn't indulge in any outright bloodletting the way he did on Pinkerton, but he still has time for a good cry and a harmony-laden sing-along on the melancholy "Slave." He covers all the twisted emotions of a one-night stand in two minutes on "Possibilities" ("Oh, oh, possibilities/Take you home with me in your arms"), an exhilarating pop-punk speed burst that finds the band sounding particularly youthful. The singer turns into a strutting rock loverman on the crackling blues-metal rumble "Fall Together," calling all the girls "baby" and topping things off with a balls-out wah-wah-guitar solo.

Rock bombast has been a key component of the band's arsenal ever since they kicked off the "Blue Album" with the enormous pop tantrum "My Name Is Jonas." But the full-tilt boogie metal of "Take Control" and "Fall Together" subtracts the parody from their approach: without the usual veil of silly lyrics and power-pop melodies, Weezer's mastery of classic rock cliché becomes more than just a retro in-joke. Cuomo's arena-rock revivalism closely resembles that of Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan, who regularly acknowledged the influence of Boston and Dokken during his similar quest to recapture rock's flashy past. But Weezer's minimalist approach is more powerful than the more-ambitious ramblings of the Pumpkins, who often lost their visceral impact in a cloud of prog-rock experimentalism.

And Cuomo's bandmates deserve more credit than they get for what they bring to the party. Drummer Wilson and his revolving door of bass players are nimble when they need to be and always ready when it's time to get loud, which is often. Guitarist Brian Bell is an important foil in Cuomo's six-string overkill, and he and bassist Shriner supply much of the comic relief with their background yelps and hollers. Unlike a lot of hard-rock bands, Weezer always sound as if they were listening to each other -- and, more important, having fun.

As for Rivers, well, the moody frontman seems to be enjoying himself more than ever these days. One definition of the album's fancy title is "an inept person," but the disc's joyful mood suggests the band are merely poking fun at their endearing social awkwardness. As if to prove the point, they end the album with a slow waltz that takes the form of a simple proverb. Like many a wise man before him, Rivers examines the many virtues of faith, hope, and love before settling for the greatest of these in the chorus: "Only love." Love is what Weezer have inspired in a generation of fans. It's only fair that they save some for themselves once in a while.

Issue Date: May 10 - 16, 2002