Weezer - OK Human Review

It’s too middle of the road to become a classic and not brave enough to be interesting.

Weezer are a peculiar entity. On the one hand, they’re self-perpetuating outsiders, often found skirting on the fringes of eccentricity, and on the other, they're platinum-selling, stadium-filling rock behemoths, who on their day can make a racket so gargantuan it has staunch metalheads questioning their principles. It’s this dichotomy that makes Weezer so appealing and also, at times, a little frustrating. 

OK Human fills the gap left by the pandemic-enforced postponement of their ‘Hella Mega Tour’ and their fantastically titled album, Van Weezer, a temporarily shelved and much-anticipated return to ‘big guitars’.  

Here, Weezer employ a more orchestral approach, so if you were still hoping for those ‘big guitars’  then you’ll be disappointed. But if you were hoping for a more introspective Weezer, showcasing an intimate collection of songs that Rivers Cuomo has been delicately crafting to perfection since 2017, then, well, you might still be disappointed.  

Apparently, parts of OK Human, namely the strings, were recorded at Abbey Road Studios and The Beatles were obviously weighing heavily on Cuomo’s mind during the album’s genesis. ‘All My Favorite Songs’ begins with a mellotron that’s not a million miles removed from the opening to ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’; it even has a momentary rest before the vocals come in but, when they do, it’s unmistakably Weezer. “All my favourite songs are slow and sad, all my favourite people make me mad” Cuomo broods. It’s a subject well-trodden and Weezer fail to contribute anything new, but ‘All My Favorite Songs’ is a pleasant enough affair that’ll most likely become a fan favourite.  

‘Aloo Gobi’ doesn’t fare so well. It’s the sonic equivalent of an aged skater-kid having to dress smart for a job interview, and it’s equally tragic. It redeems itself slightly with a nice bridge in the middle, followed by a “you are not alone” refrain that almost manages to sound pertinent, given the current global situation. ‘Grapes Of Wrath’ follows and staccato strings do their best to fill a guitar-shaped hole but it’s a song that probably would have fared better being put to one side and saved for the aforementioned Van Weezer.

‘Numbers’ raises the bar a little. “Look at him, look at her, they’ve got a million likes. You better figure out how to multiply, divide. Numbers are out to get you” Cuomo sings, forlornly reflecting on the modern age. The mellotron returns and this time the song’s nod towards its influence is much more subtle and far less jarring. ‘Playing My Piano’ offers us an intimate glimpse into Rivers Cuomo’s life in lockdown, “My wife is upstairs, my kids are upstairs, and I haven’t washed my hair in three weeks. I should get back to these  Zoom interviews but I get so absorbed and time flies”, unfortunately, the self-deprecating relatability ends there as he doesn't seem able to resist the pull of a sweepingly gratuitous chorus that wishes it was a Bond theme. It just doesn’t sit well within a song that seems to be presenting itself as the antithesis of a stadium filler. ‘Mirror Image’ is notable only for its closing moments which have Cuomo singing and playing alone. It’s fragile and personal, and a glimpse at what the song, and to larger extent the album, could have been.  

‘Screens’ begins by sounding like a distant, string infused cousin of Hashpipe, and hopes are raised. But again, it soon descends into another paint-by-numbers chorus, that somehow manages to sound catchy and also be instantly forgettable at the same time. It’s quite a feat. At least ‘Bird With a Broken Wing’ is one of the few occasions on the album where the inclusion of a string section is warranted and actually enhances the song. With ‘Dead Roses’ (another song title that sounds like the scribblings on a depressed teenager’s textbook) Weezer are back in full cinematic mode but here it at least feels a little more welcome, though still superfluous.  

‘Everything Happens For A Reason’ serves solely as an intro to ‘Here Comes The Rain’ which is carried by a driving piano-line that sits just a little too low in the mix. Again it’s catchy enough and will most likely delight the Weezer faithful.  

‘La Brea Tar Pits’ sits a little out of place with the rest of the album. Cuomo leaves behind isolation and loneliness and instead sings an ode to the tar preserved bones of long-dead animals. It’s one of OK Human’s stronger points but its placement at the end of the album seems strange given that ‘Here Comes The Rain’ seemed to conclude things nicely, both musically and lyrically.  

OK Human has moments that are genuinely inspired but all too often it becomes bogged down by overproduction and strings for the sake of, well, strings. It’s the sound of a band desperately trying to expand their musical horizons but continuously falling back on old, tried and tested habits. It’s too middle of the road to become a classic and not brave enough to be interesting. It serves more as a fan-friendly footnote to pass the time whilst we wait for Van Weezer and that much-anticipated return to their ‘big guitar’ sensibilities.