You can trust Louder Our experienced team has worked for some of the biggest brands in music. From testing headphones to reviewing albums, our experts aim to create reviews you can trust. Find out more about how we review.
Rivers Cuomo doesn’t look like your typical metalhead, but the Weezer frontman has made no secret of his love of Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Ozzy Osbourne and all the other classic heavy metal bands that have graced the turf of Donington Park over the years.
So maybe that’s why this afternoon, the notoriously awkward, difficult, frustrating, yet enigmatic character is beaming from ear to ear after smashing through a near perfect greatest hits set on his band's first ever appearance here.
There’s possibly no band in rock just as capable of greatness as they are disappointment as Weezer; the highs of their 90s output, 1994’s The Blue Album or its 1996 follow up, Pinkerton, are utterly sublime, perfect pop-rock genius. Yet when Weezer are bad, from Raditide and Hurley to pointless, memeable pop covers, good god they’re hard work.
So, what a relief it is when they wander on sheepishly (this is Weezer, after all) and proceed to plough through Hash Pipe, My Name is Jonas, Perfect Situation, Come Undone (The Sweater Song) and Island in the Sun - an opening five songs stronger than most bands' encores. Rivers even introduces the whole band and actually waves at the crowd! He looks like he might smile at one point. This truly is a momentous occasion.
True, Weezer might not be the most energetic or charismatic band. But they succeed on the strength of their songs, and the songs they choose for this set are rarified air for this type of music. It’s almost as if, a mere 48 hours after the news of the passing of Brian Wilson, they have remembered that at their best they are the closest thing the 90s had to the pure, Technicolor pop joy of The Beach Boys.
Only In Dreams is like floating on a sonic, sugary cloud; Say It Ain’t So is proto-emo magnificence, Pork And Beans is 50s doo-wop put through a grunge filter and the closing Buddy Holly is every inch the genre-defining classic song it has grown to be. A peak at early geek chic.
