By Brendan Harte Gilsenan
✭✭✭½
Andy Hull has a knack for making whatever he sings sound incredibly important. Maybe it’s the aged growl of his voice for a rather young man. Or maybe it’s his ability to whisper a grandfather’s wisdom one moment, and shout the commands of a militant leader the next. His words come across as life lessons, warnings, and sad tales to tell your children.

It’s a damn good thing this band can grasp a listener so quickly, because many of these tracks require a road map to navigate. Manchester Orchestra is no stranger to atypical song structures. 2009’s Mean Everything To Nothing made good use of bridges, codas, and other ‘what-the-hell-was-that’s. Yet Simple Math strays even further from the path at times, causing confusion between what is a verse, pre-chorus or a chorus.

The overall aesthetics of the songs, however, are very much in tune with those that Manchester has established itself with over the past few years. The ingredients of Manchester Orchestra are found everywhere throughout the album, even if they are presented in more of a collage than a painting.

A couple of tracks offer a subtle brass flair that is new for the band, and very much welcomed. The string orchestration, however, could probably be tamed a bit throughout Simple Math, such as on the title track. This one too was not the best choice as a lead single to showcase what the album has to offer.

One of the more notable songs on the album is “Virgin”. It’s one of the most structurally sound of the bunch. This haunting track gives off similar vibes to Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In The Wall.” It has If-you-don’t-eat-your-meat, how-can-you-have-any-pudding!-esque talking at the beginning, and a children chorus to boot.

At times Simple Math doesn’t know whether it wants to be a heavy introspective record, or a collection of poppy, radio friendly rock. The identity crisis carries over to some individual tracks, with verses and choruses clashing genres.

“Pale Black Eye” has one of the coolest, funkiest riffs that Manchester has put to record. The pre-chorus – actually it’s difficult to tell which section this is - takes a darker turn before returning to original light riff. Although the parts originally seem at odds, the band somehow manages to bring them together into something that works better than expected.

Their pop sensibility comes across strongest with “Pensacola.” Out of all, it’s the one to sing along to. It won’t be long before the band finds fans religiously chanting “Alcohol, dirty malls, Pensacola, Florida bars” at shows during this one’s breakdown.

The slower songs on Simple Math are truly beautiful pieces of songwriting, as are most of Andy Hull’s slow tunes. They expose his gift for great smooth, sentimental lyrics. Album closer, “Leaky Breaks,” crawls along like lingering on the last few pages of a book before gently giving it a close.

Although Simple Math is a grab bag of inconsistent nature, any track taken at random exemplifies the constant songwriting and craftsmanship abilities that make Manchester Orchestra more demanding of attention than most other young bands of today.


1.     Deer
2.     Mighty
3.     Pensacola
4.     April Fool
5.     Pale Black Eye
6.     Virgin
7.     Simple Math
8.     Leave It Alone
9.     Apprehension
10. Leaky Breaks

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan

In downtown Harrisonburg on the second floor above Oasis Art Gallery sits a Jerry Garcia lookalike in a cluttered room. He wears a red tie-dye shirt that reads, “Cosmic Debris – A Real Record Shop.” More than 25,000 used records cover the tables in this small rented office space. Although Steve Cape only opened Cosmic Debris in Harrisonburg a year ago, he has been selling used vinyl for the past 26 years.

During that time, he saw the sales of vinyl decrease with the introduction of the CD. However, he noticed a rejuvenated interest once digital music caused people to feel too distanced from the product. While CD sales have continually slumped during the last decade, vinyl has been seeing resurgence. According to Billboard, the format saw a 14 percent increase in sales from 2009 to 2010.

“When we were growing up, this was our record collection and our art collection,” Cape says of vinyl records, which are more than four times the size of CDs. “There would be special items in the record like posters, or mail-off and get free stuff. You don’t get that with CDs. You don’t get that with downloads.”           

There are ten 12-by-12-inch record covers mounted on two opposing walls in freshman Ross Figlerski’s room. Figlerski, 19, proudly displays the artwork of some of his favorite records. His first vinyl, 2004’s “Madvillainy” by hip-hop duo Madvillain, is joined by the likes of Neutral Milk Hotel’s “In the Aeroplane Over The Sea” and the Talking Heads’ “Remain in the Light.”

“The first time I saw this in actual vinyl format I looked at it, and I’m like, ‘Holy shit. I get this,’” he says of his Madvillain record. “That was such a weird moment for me, like, ‘I can actually get involved with this. This is so frickin’ cool.’”

His eyes were suddenly opened to why people are so attracted to an outdated format.

“When people say, ‘I’m really into music’, and they have a library of 5,000 to 6,000 songs on their laptop, it’s like, ‘Oh, that’s cool,’” he says. “[But] if you walk in and see they have six crates of vinyl of new releases, it’s just like, ‘Wow, okay this guy wasn’t joking.’”

Figlerski has one 13-by-19-inch milk crate sitting in his dorm room. He has five more sitting at home in Long Island. Together, they house the more than 300 vinyl record collection he began when he was 16.

Freshman Spencer Dukoff, 19, worked at Scotti’s Record Shop in Summit, N.J. for a year and half before coming to JMU. During his tenure, he witnessed sales of the CD dramatically drop while vinyl revenue remained strong, if not increased.

“CD is cool because it is more portable,” he says. “But if I had to choose one [format] to just chill out to, I would pick vinyl.”

Dukoff believes the main attraction to vinyl is the sentimental value it holds, a quality that is absent with digital music, and even CDs. He compares owning vinyl to collecting baseball cards or stamps. “It’s more of a possession than a CD,” he says.

Another popular argument advocating the use of vinyl is a superior sound quality. Yet, Professor David Cottrell, who teaches several audio devices classes at JMU, says this notion is based off of myth and misconceptions.

He describes the “tortured path of an analog signal” as much more convoluted than the process needed for a digital signal to create a recording. Digital provides a much smoother transition from the actual sound to the copy of it.

Neither is perfect Cottrell admits. Digital is simply closer to perfect. “There is no such thing as a perfect way to record,” he says. “The only perfect example of the actual sound is the sound that actually happens in air.”

Digital recording gives the ability to boost sounds in a song. Condensing a track with digital equipment brings all of the sounds together, giving it a meatier quality. “It sounds fatter and thicker. The burger tastes better.”

Cottrell protests that digital technology has all the capabilities of making a song sound better than analog. “If you take a vinyl recording and then make a CD out of it, and you do it well,” he explains, “I don’t know that people would hear much of a difference.”

Although digital provides more advantages, many still feel they are not always put to good use.

Junior Mike Ciecierski will not download an album to his computer if he owns it on vinyl. Bob Dylan taught him this.

Ciecierski had been listening to Dylan’s “Nashville Skyline” for some time on vinyl. Having the urge to listen to the album’s closing track during a walk home, he played it on his iPod. On vinyl, “Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You” features a distinct piano melody. The same could not be said for the MP3 version of the track.

“You literally can’t hear the piano, at all,” he remembers discovering through his iPod. “That completely fucks with the way I listen to the music, and like the music, and understand the music.”

While Dukoff thinks the sound quality can sometimes be better on vinyl, he, just like Cottrell, fails to see it as a main draw. He notices a difference on Bruce Springsteen’s “The River” and Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours.” But his Pink Floyd “Dark Side of the Moon” sounds just the same on vinyl as it does on CD.

He believes the bigger draw lies with the physical nature of the product.

“I think people who just listen to vinyl because of the better sound are just full of shit,” Dukoff says.

According to Dukoff, Scotti’s Record Shop typically carries two to three copies of select newly released titles on vinyl. Scotti’s used to stock its new and used vinyl in a back room. Now, they are proudly intermingled throughout the entire store.

At Cosmic Debris, Cape picks up the soundtrack to “The Good, The Bad and the Ugly,” and points out the artwork and the easily located album credits.

“It’s cool. It’s retro,” he says.

Although wholesale prices are too expensive for Cape to keep new titles in stock, he sees other places, such as Best Buy, beginning to carry vinyl to meet a rising demand.

“The record companies aren’t stupid, they see this,” he says.

Although technology continually advances the way we can record and listen to music, it seems there will always be people who are passionate about vinyl.

“I’ve always said, I’ve been doing this for 26 years now, and when it stops being fun I’ll quit doing it,” Cape says. “And I’m still here.”

Appears in the May issue of JMU's music magazine, Off The Record (no direct correlation - the name of this blog will be changing soon too)

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan

Absolutely no brown M&M’s. Van Halen was notorious for making this request during the 1980s. For every concert they performed, there was a laundry list of demands.

From the quirky to the bizarre, unique requests are made all the time by artists performing at shows. Over the years James Madison University has hosted numerous musicians, and the University Program Board has been no stranger to these tendencies.

“The more expensive an artist gets, the pickier they get,” says UPB Coordinator Carrie Martin. She calls it “Carrie’s Theory on Rider Requirements.” A rider is the list of these requests found in the contract.

Although she contractually cannot reveal names, Martin remembers receiving a rider from a performer whose catering was based on what day of the week it was, and what time of year.

“We have to check the menu and make sure we are getting Saturday’s meal versus Tuesday’s meal,” she recalls.

From glass bottles of Diet Coke (“I don’t even know if that’s made,” Martin says) to red-only Skittles or blue-only M&M’s (she says this in fact, does happen), food requests can be extremely detailed.

Angela Marino, director for Center Stage, the UPB committee that books larger artists, recalls a hip-hop show that had one performer requesting a kiddy pool in the dressing room and for Cartoon Network to play on the TVs. Another at the same show asked for a giant stuffed gorilla.

“We did put it in his dressing room, but he never took it,” she says.

Melissa Boyle-Aronson also remembers the gorilla incident. Working for Babco Entertainment, a “middle agency” that helps colleges book concerts, she has helped JMU book and produce shows since 1995.

“Some fun artists put things in their riders like that just to make sure people are paying attention,” she says.

Other times, requests simply go to waste. Boyle-Aronson once dealt with an artist who insisted on chicken wings that had to arrive at a certain time, in specific quantity, and most definitely not hot flavored. The wings were never touched.

The responsibility of fulfilling these requests rests with UPB’s hospitality chair. This year sophomore Shahana Islam has tackled that position. Although riders are submitted, she is available the day of a show in case of last minute requests. Such as when she suddenly needed to provide candles to create “an ambiance” in an artist’s dressing room.

While attending Ohio University, Martin dealt with a female artist who insisted upon having a specific taco from Taco Bell as soon as her last song ended. The hospitality chair had to time it so that the taco arrived right on time, warm and ready to be eaten.

“She says, ‘Thanks, it’s been great!’ drops the mic, walks off stage, and here’s your Grand Burrito.”

For some, the details are to test how closely the venue examines the contract. For others, it’s to flex their power of stardom. And for a number of artists, it’s simply to fulfill their quirky desires.

“My first condom request happened this year,” says Martin with a chuckle. “We are not fulfilling that request.”

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan
✭✭✭✭
(Found in the April 11, 2011 issue of The Breeze)

Wind back the clock. Dave Grohl and company have stepped back into the 1990s.

The Foo Fighters have teamed up with producer of Nirvana's Nevermind, Butch Vig and recorded their latest release completely non-digital with analog equipment. Original guitarist Pat Smear is back in the fold, and Grohl's former Nirvana band mate, bassist Krist Novoselic, makes a guest appearance.

The result of all this nostalgia is Wasting Light, the band's best release since 1999's There Is Nothing Left To Lose.

While the Foo Fighters have always been known for their radio hits, over time their music has become rather formulaic. Yet they've broken from this mold, trading in high-class designer pants for an old pair of tattered jeans.

It's classic Foo Fighters rock - loud guitars, memorable hooks, a bit of screaming and a lot of energy.

Particular standouts are single "Rope" and Grohl's Virginia hometown ode, "Arlandria." The song most reminiscent of the group's biggest hits from the ‘90s is "Back & Forth," which is pop-rock gold from beginning to end.

Your mother is sure to loathe the balls-to-the-wall "White Limo." But that's all right as the song hearkens back to songs like "Weenie Beenie" or "Enough Space," when Grohl was constantly on his A-game.

Few parts still stink of cheese. Grohl's vocal delivery of the album's opening line comes across a little cliché, and the chorus of "These Days" is stereotypical of many a Foo's chorus from the past decade. Fortunately, these are only bits and pieces, rather than entire songs.

Things slow down a bit with "I Should Have Known," but the intensity remains. Wasting Light is the Foo Fighters' anti-ballad album. There is not one to be found, and there doesn't even appear to be a single acoustic guitar on the entire album.

On Wasting Light, the Foo Fighters balance their younger carefree approach with the maturity developed over the years. Strong backing vocals from those other than Grohl also add a new, exciting flavor to the band's sound.

Overall, it's a cohesive record that leaves little temptation to skip tracks.

In the standout album closer "Walk," Grohl sings, "Learning to walk again / I believe I've waited long enough / Where do I begin? Learning to talk again / Can't you see I've waited long enough? / Where do I begin?"

An analogy for learning how to write a solid album again, perhaps? Probably not, but it applies pretty damn well.

Regardless, can't you see that we've waited long enough, Dave? But you've redeemed yourself. We can now forgive you for the past two mediocre albums. Apology accepted.


1.   Bridge Burning
2.   Rope
3.   Dear Rosemary
4.   White Limo
5.   Arlandria
6.   These Days
7.   Back & Forth
8.   A Matter of Time
9.   Miss The Misery
10. I Should Have Known
11. Walk

Appears in the April issue of JMU's music magazine, Off The Record (no direct correlation - the name of this blog will be changing soon too)

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan

“Once Guns N’ Roses is done you guys can sound check.” Excuse me? Did you he Guns N’ Roses?

In early 2010 Mike Corbett and the rest of Midnight Spin found themselves unexpectedly sharing the bill with ‘the most dangerous band in the world’ (or at least Axl Rose’s current version of it). At first the band was pissed that their sound check for a show at the former CBGB was pushed back. But once they found out why… “We were like, ‘Holy Shit!’” says Corbett, an ’06 JMU alum.

Since leaving James Madison University (he tackled his remaining six credits between UCLA and University of Maryland), the former Media Arts and Design major has been making a splash with the Brooklyn based Midnight Spin.
Having released their first EP in the summer of 2009, Midnight Spin is currently writing its debut full-length. The band has a handful of songs finished, but hope to have about thirteen to choose from when hitting the studio in March.

Midnight Spin has generated some label interest in the past, but now that the band has solidly established its sound, Corbett thinks signing is something more likely to be considered. Either way, he is anxious to release new music. “Once the album’s out we’re just going to live in a van and be total hobos," he says.

The band has made its way down to JMU twice - once, playing for a party in Forrest Hills, and again playing Bourbon Street. “That was a fun show”, he says of the latter with a chuckle. “We were inebriated. It was a good day.” During his college days, Corbett played in a band called CJ’s Novel. “The immortal CJ’s Novel,” he reminisces. “All the Pi Kappa Phi kids will want to remember that.” An alum of PiKapp himself, Corbett and his band would play many of the fraternity’s parties. “We were kind of the house band,” he says.

Corbett has come a long way since then. “That kinda summed up just, being a young band in New York,” he says of playing with Axl Rose and company. “That idea that you know, really a lot is going on here and that any thing is possible.”

From playing fraternity parties to playing with Guns N’ Roses, Corbett’s experiences continue to push him forward. “Harrisonburg’s kind of a small town; New York is a little bigger. Even still, regardless of where you are, you should be playing.”

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan
✭✭✭
As 2009’s Mean Everything To Nothing was a flurry of angst and passion, it is surprising that the title track off of Manchester Orchestra’s upcoming Simple Math is rather boring. It is a slower paced song, but that isn’t the cause of it coming across as underwhelming for a Manchester tune. The problem lies with the fact that as it progresses, “Simple Math” fails to build upon itself.

On Mean Everything, Andy Hull presented songs with tempo changes, time changes, and varying parts. But “Simple Math” comes across as more repetitive than what would be expected based on the songwriter’s past.

The chorus lacks a substantial hook, which is an element that made their breakout effort, Mean Everything, so successful. Most of the song is accompanied by overly dramatic violins, which seem to force a wanted feeling of ‘epicness’; something greatly achieved on the last album with less cheese.

As always, Hull’s vocals are fantastic. The overall feel of the song remains consistent with the direction the band has been going in the past several years, and reserves hope that Simple Math will have offerings that meet the expectations set by Mean Everything To Nothing.

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan
✭✭ ½
For the past several years, Weezer has teased its fans with the idea of a compilation of unreleased tracks called “Odds & Ends”.There are plenty of songs from the band’s 1998 hiatus era and summer 2000 recording sessions that match up with some of Weezer’s best. Unfortunately, the final track list boasts little from these highly sought after eras of Weezer.

Finally getting around to releasing the compilation, the name of the disc changed to “Death To False Metal.” Instead of releasing older recordings as-is, Weezer reopened the studio doors, and fleshed out parts to give the release more of a cohesive feel than a compilation of previously unreleased songs.

Though the final product is not exactly what fans had been waiting for during these past couple of years, it is interesting to see what directions the band has attempted to take their music in.

Leading off is Rivers Cuomo’s songwriting experiment, “Turning Up The Radio.” In a video posted to his YouTube page back in 2008, Cuomo called upon fans to collaborate with him from scratch by submitting different musical and lyrical ideas that he would choose from. The result is surprisingly good, and one of the best on the album.

The most pleasantly surprising of the bunch is “I Don’t Want Your Loving,” which actually sounds like a classic Weezer song. The solo is reminiscent of the band’s “Pinkerton” recordings. Even more remarkable is the fact that this one comes from sessions of one of the band’s more cheesy sounding albums, “Make Believe.”

A handful of tracks on this release has the band delving into genres that do not normally characterize Weezer. “Everyone” is Weezer imitating Nirvana. Its jolting, heavy riff and song structure is similarto the early ’90s icons. The piano-driven pop ditty “I’m A Robot” sounds like Cuomo’s attempt to write a Ben Folds song. But probably the most out of place on the record is “Autopilot.” It works well as a synth-pop song, but is farther removed from Weezer’s sound than any other track on the record.

Other highlights include “Blowin’ My Stack” and a cover of Toni Braxton’s “Unbreak My Heart.” Both having been initially recorded for 2005’s “Make Believe,” it’s hard to understand why these were scrapped for some of Weezer’s career-low material.

Some of the lyrics on “Death To False Metal” seem half-baked, if not downright odd (“When I walk to the park with my doggies, I collect all the things they leave. And I put them up under the microscope, and I’m so impressed by what I see”), although the majority of the melodies are particularly well written.

In the end, “Death To False Metal” sounds exactly like what it is: a collection of songs not quite up to par with those that should make a final track list. Yet although these songs are shy of the quality found in the majority of Weezer’s catalogue, the band does have a handful of far worse blemishes in its past. This may not be worth the purchase for the casual listener, but for Weezer fans, it is a decent enough addition to the collection.


1.     Turning Up The Radio
2.     I Don’t Want Your Loving
3.     Blowin’ My Stack
4.     Losing My Mind
5.     Everyone
6.     I’m A Robot
7.     Trampoline
8.     Odd Couple
9.     Autopilot
10. Unbreak My Heart

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan
✭✭✭✭
Atlanta band Manchester Orchestra caught the attention of the alternative rock world with their sophomore album, 2008’s Mean Everything to Nothing. Their success has been propelled by the undeniable songwriting talent of front man Andy Hull. In 2007, singer-songwriter Kevin Devine opened for Manchester Orchestra, and a seed was planted for what would eventually grow to be Bad Books.

Having played alongside each other for the past several years since then, Hull and Devine decided it time to finally record an album together. The two called upon the remaining members of Manchester Orchestra to help flesh out their sound.

Although this super group of sorts is overloaded with members of Hull’s main project, Bad Books delivers a sound of its own. Having each written five songs on the album, Hull and Devine split lead vocal duties. Together the two have produced a high quality indie folk rock album.

This debut splits time between fuzzed-up lo-fi indie rockers and stripped down folk tunes. Lead single “You Wouldn’t Have To Ask” offers a crunchy pop sound that is new territory for both Hull and Devine. Clocking in at under two minutes it gets to the chorus quickly and serves its purpose well as a short but sweet catchy number.

Others such as “Holding Down The Laughter” and “Please Move” are the more uptempo of the bunch. “Laughter”’s lack of an actually chorus is heavily overshadowed by its strong pop melody. It is a worthy contender for best song on the album.

Burying their softer side, the band’s “Please Move” is the hardest rocking track on Bad Books. It, more than any of the others, is evidence of Manchester Orchestra’s involvement with the record. The palm-muted verses create a tension that builds in the pre-chorus, and finally resolves with Hull and Devine shouting away in the chorus.

Nearly half of the album is comprised of stripped down acoustic recordings. The open space in these tracks gives room for the listener to focus on the words being recited. Hull and Devine each have a great knack for imagery in their songs, and these slower numbers showcase that. “Mesa, AZ” and “Texas” are well worth the listen, though won’t get stuck in your head.

But a lot of times folk songs are not about the memorable melodies, but rather the sentimental meaning in the lyrics and delivery. Either Hull or Devine singing to a lonesome guitar, these tracks are more personal and offer an intimate connection to the music.

In the final seconds of the album Hull’s scratchy voice whispers, “I am a towel that is soaked to the core, heavier now than it’s gotten before. And something inside of me needs more and more, sooner than later, never no more.”

For a pair of men who find time to write and record a stellar album amidst heavy involvement with both main projects and touring upwards of 300 days out of the year, this seems a very fitting way to close an album that was created out of the sole ambition to make more music.


1.     How This All Ends
2.     The Easy Mark & the Old Maid
3.     Baby Shoes
4.     You’re a Mirror I Cannot Avoid
5.     Holding Down The Laughter
6.     You Wouldn’t Have To Ask
7.     I Begged You Everything
8.     Please Move
9.     Mesa, AZ
10. Texas

By Brendan Harte Gilsenan
✭✭ ½
Weezer fans document the band’s history into two eras: “Classic Line-up” Weezer and “Post-Pinkerton” Weezer. Post-Pinkerton begins with the band’s return from hiatus, and the release of their third album, and second self-titled, dubbed by fans The Green Album.

Although very successful, The Green Album was too generic. It missed the mark on the individuality and personality that had been a staple of Weezer’s first two releases. It may have been a good pop record, but The Green Album did not quite sound like the same old Weezer everyone had once known.

The band’s original bassist Matt Sharp, who left at the end of Weezer’s “classic” era, once said, “The one thing that is apparent about working with Rivers, that I’ve never experienced with anyone else, is that you really get a sense that he has an unlimited potential as a songwriter. That’s not supposed to be a touchy-feely, ass-kissing moment. I always felt that if his potential was ever fully realized, he would be considered in the upper echelon of melody based songwriters—like Brian Wilson or Paul McCartney.”

For years, album after album, Weezer’s fan base had been waiting for Rivers to get back on track with this description that so fittingly suited him during the band’s early years. Unfortunately, upon each release, no matter how good some of the songs may have been, it was never quite Weezer. The sound, the feeling that listeners fell in love with during the ‘90s was never quite recaptured.

Then came 2008’s The Red Album, and finally, finally we all had back the Weezer that had mysteriously disappeared at the turn of the century.

Songs like “The Greatest Man That Ever Lived” and “Angel and the One” matched up with the best of the best from the band’s classic catalogue. The sound, the emotion, the feel; it was all there. This was the Weezer we had been waiting on to return (disregarding the three tracks written and sung by the other members of the band). Rivers was back in form. It had been worth the wait.

Then something changed.

What that something was is up for debate. Regardless, The Red Album’s follow up, Raditude, came out of left field to surprise and disappoint. Although there were aspects reminiscent of old Weezer, it was not a Weezer album. And that is where we are left with Hurley.

Having signed with indie-label Epitaph, Weezer had more creative control over their final product. Instead of letting the songs sit, boil, and overcook like they had for most of the 2000’s, the other members of the band did not learn the songs until Cuomo presented them in the studio, ready to be recorded. Although a better effort than Raditude, Hurley is still not a Weezer album in the sense that The Blue Album, Pinkerton, and The Red Album are. The Blue Album and Pinkerton are Weezer perfection from start to finish. At least half of The Red Album consists of songs that are Weezer perfection.

Hurley shows signs of the band that reemerged with 2008’s The Red Album, but is not quite a Weezer album in the same sense.

“Ruling Me”, with the personality of The Blue Album, and the perfected vocal melodies of The Green Album, is accompanied by a cringe worthy bridge. Others, such as lead single “Memories”, simply sound too bland.

“Brave New World” keeps up with the tradition over the last four albums of including at least one track that simply should never have been written.

“Smart Girls”, aside from “Ruling Me” sans the bridge, is the most Weezer-esque of the bunch. Cuomo’s runoff of feminine counterparts’ names is reminiscent of Pinkerton’s “Tired of Sex”.

Instrumentally, guest to the band over the past year and a half Josh Freese, while a very proficient drummer, is a bit too systematic for a Weezer album.

Some lyrics seem forced in order to finish the song and have missed out on the labor needed to find the right words.

In the end we are left with a fine record, nothing too special, nothing too detrimental. A fair amount, if not a majority, of this record is catchy and enjoyable. The disappointment lies with the fact that it is not the product of the elite songwriting that Cuomo proved in 2008 he is not completely out of touch with.


1.     Memories
2.     Ruling Me
3.     Trainwrecks
4.     Unspoken
5.     Where’s My Sex?
6.     Run Away
7.     Hang On
8.     Smart Girls
9.     Brave New World
10. Times Flies