Weezer 
Live @ Brixton Academy, London 
24 Mar 2002 
Once upon a time, there was a small band gone big by the luck and quality of some singles. There were some bad times, there were some good times, departures and introductions. Last July, said band played three nights at Shepherd’s Bush with a newly acquired bassist. The gig lasted not much more than a disappointing 30 minutes, and there was none of the expected and friendly between-song banter. The band is Weezer (of course), and atonement comes in the form of a sort of musical apology...so bring in the clowns, Brixton’s ready to explode.

After breaking through the barrier that was the autograph queue for Louis Theroux (no, really), the Brixton stalls appear adequately filled for a night of rock. After nearly 30 minutes of set-up time, Weezer take the stage in what already seems like a turning tide from the deadpan demeanour of the Bush gigs. Rivers, in his new bearded style, belts out the classic "Brixton how you doin’?" and follows it with a bit of promise "We’re here to bust your ass." Well then, let the games begin.

The set opens with "Dope Nose," a track from the new album Maladroit, which may or may not be out in the next few months. The song sounds like it could be the sordid rock grandson of the Banana Splits theme, and it bounces along with glee. The band, or at least Rivers seems to be enjoying himself a bit more this time (i.e. he’s speaking), and the set gleans the best bits of the Weezer rainbow. "My Name is Jonas" and "Good Life" are followed with the declaration "...and back we is."

The 3-gun Jackson salute is given during "Superstar," while sing-a-long with the most seemingly loveable band in the world "Island in the Sun," "Surf Wax America" and "Tired of Sex" project themselves across the here's and there's of the venue. More Maladroit follows, always properly punctuated with a pop melody from yesteryear, and sealed with a kiss. The set doesn’t tread on one particular album for too long, and it’s fair to say that the discography has had an efficient and enjoyable airing out...so to speak. "Hash Pipe," possibly the introduction to the band for a lot of the crowd, feels the burn of the impending doom of ROCK, and the smoke machines start whirling out something horrible. The drum riser’s mock metal-tread front is dropped to reveal the Weezer symbol of Triumph, and the song bangs and grunts to the splattering of light colours that reflect off of the stage.

The set is finished how any set should...rock epics of yore, feedback festivals warping monitors and lights as if there were something in that pint...but really it’s just the melody. "Only in Dreams" runs its 10-minute course, including the dropping of massive amounts of confetti on the adoring audience as the song kicks back in from soft to loud. The big old W hanging behind the stage lights up in sync with that relatively wee one on the drum riser, and all is Weezer, smoke and mirrors.

There was really no point coming back out after such a spectacle, but they did, and managed to pull off a modern version of the incomparable Turtles’ "Happy Together" as well as the retro cheesy goodness of "Buddy Holly" before leaving guitars to scream to death, and the lights to come up, and all is well. Rivers’ comments throughout the gig imply an amount of relief for getting on with the gig, after it’s initial postponement, band and label drama, and all the other general annoyances that go with the job. They are back, and spoken over wailing guitars before the exit, they’re here to stay.