Riot Fest 2011 | Weezer at the Congress Theater: Live review + photo gallery

Upon Weezer’s announcement as headliner of Riot Fest, there was much scoffing and dismissive hand gesturing in the world of music nerds. I should know; I was one of the naysayers. Part of that has to do with Riot Fest being an ostensibly “punk” festival, featuring myriad bands who many of us thought lost to time, the rest of us still wearing their t-shirts on a weekly basis. Weezer, especially with regard to the band’s later catalogue, does not fit that mold. To many, promoters might as well have booked Gucci Mane (pending imprisonment) to headline at Congress this past Sunday.

But from everything I’ve seen this weekend at Congress, the merits of each night’s headliner has had nothing to do with staying punk, or embodying any particular genre. If that were the case, no one would have been at Danzig on Friday. The real excitement of Riot Fest lies in the multigenerational, resiliently relevant fanbase that each of these bands seems to have accrued. To use Danzig’s term, it’s about “legacy.” While the Descendents and Danzig crowds may have been more monochromatic, at least in wardrobe, Weezer seemed to play to a chunk of fans from each year of their almost two-decade career. And no one was rolling their eyes.

Despite the sudden passing of former bassist Mikey Welsh on Saturday night, Weezer brought a now-typical surplus of goofy fun to the Congress on Sunday. With powerhouse touring drummer Josh Freese on the kit, the band plowed through a career-spanning set of hits. Drummer Pat Wilson joined Rivers and Brian Bell on guitar, occasionally shredding through solos with commendable proficiency—the weirdly impeccable “Paranoid Android” cover best exhibited this.

Welsh’s lone contribution to the Weezer discography, the Green album, got its fair share of representation. “Hash Pipe” set the Congress ablaze, and “Island in the Sun” received a somber treatment, with Rivers kicking off the song solo and his bandmates joining him piece-by-piece.

Every member of Weezer has figured out how to sing exactly like Rivers Cuomo. As the bespectacled, soccer-shirt-and-khakis wearing frontman made his way around the stage, introducing the band, each did a dead-on impression of the rock star. If you looked away, you would’ve thought Rivers to be the only man onstage.

To condemn Rivers of egomania, as he guitarlessly jumped up and down during songs off Raditude, minutes after playing the stellar Pinkerton b-side “I Just Kicked Out the Love of My Dreams,” was certainly the operative gut reaction. But when he returned to the stage after a brief intermission, dressed head-to-toe in the same outfit from the Blue album cover (sans glasses, mind you), we remembered why we loved this band in the first place.

Like a lot of people—and certainly a lot of people sitting with me in the mezzanine for both sets—I’ve followed Weezer’s career “arc” with an ever-evolving grimace on my face. Unfortunately, and a bit ironically, my distaste for the new material has driven me further and further away from the early records I’ve always loved. Blue, in particular, has fallen victim both to time and my increasing hatred of the “Sweater Song.”

But seeing the album performed last night, to absolute perfection and in total earnest, really was like stepping into a time machine. I was a scared an insecure little kid when they played “In the Garage.” I turned to my friend and told her I might bust out crying when Rivers played his harmonica. I was maybe twenty-five percent joking. The rest of the album sounded wonderful at Congress, unlike many of the bands at Riot Fest, whose subtler sounds were betrayed by the sonic boom kick drum and massive, reverberating halls.

I’m hard-pressed to say that Rivers’ ego has bloated all that much over the years. Yes, there is an inherent swelling of the self that accompanies the tremendous amounts of fame and success his band has seen over the years. But the self-absorption driving the baffling quartet has always been present. In fact, it’s what made those precious first two albums so good in the first place. Rivers is just happy now, and that’s made the music arguably less interesting. But to condemn the man for being happy, well… maybe that would make me the asshole.