Last week Weezer released their ninth studio album, Everything Will Be Alright The End. It’s amazing, and if you haven’t listened to it yet, you should!
Here are my boys on the set of the “Back to the Shack” video.
As T and I bopped around at the video shoot, I thought, how apropos: the moon. When we create, we are always in uncharted territory. We seek to break out of our habitual thought patterns, to view the very ground we stand on from a whole new angle. In its most transcendent moments, creating can feel like you’re not tethered to the laws of this world at all, not even gravity.
I adore this album and it has been an honor, as always, to hover around the edges of the room while music is being born.
The prospect of the upcoming tour dates has made me both excited and nostalgic. Here is Scott and me at Coachella 2003, my first Weezer show (awwww)….
When we first pulled up stakes and toured, Scott and I were newly married. We left behind a ratty, weird apartment with mirrored closet doors, industrial grey carpeting, and Cottage White walls. It was full to bursting with the beginnings of a married life, or rather the beginnings of the accumulation of the stuff that signified being married (the monogrammed towels, the waffle maker, the Cuisinart…). On the one hand I loved our blossoming life together and on the other I felt suffocated by it. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do with a Cuisinart anyway?
We were both relieved every time we dragged our suitcases out the door and left the stuff behind. As depicted in a thousand movies, the touring life was grueling and hard— the travel, the exhaustion, the repetition. But for Scott and me, life on the road was also a kind of rolling meditation. We loved it. I never felt more myself than when waking up, ordering room service and poring over the map of a new city. I was even happier if the breakfast contained one or two unidentifiable food items. Scott and I both had a sense of rightness on tour, as if we had happily been adopted into a circus family. In a way, that’s what being in a band is – a nomadic family, united by a common purpose and facing shared obstacles, buoyed always by the electrical force of the music.
I toured with the band all summer long and into the fall, curling up in the back lounges of the tour buses. I watched columns of light shoot up into the purple sky over the California desert, while the crowd boiled and churned and clamored for guitar picks. I gossiped for hours with the other wives and girlfriends. I watched Scott play grungy Dutch clubs and cavernous American hockey rinks and, bizarrely, the site of the Nuremberg Rallies. A certain hugely famous English rock star offered me cocaine in a Paris bathroom (declined, but still a fun moment, in a Studio 54 kind of way). I woke dazed in St. Louis, Toronto, Paris. I stepped over passed-out, topless Scandinavians. I wandered the 8th Arrondisement, the red-light district of Hamburg, downtown Detroit, Disney World.
And now? Now I have embraced the dreaded Cuisinart; I treasure the comfort of home; Yo Gabba Gabba Live has become our most coveted concert ticket. And in spite of this sea change, in many ways the song remains the same. I still fall in love with Scott anew every time I watch him step onto a stage. Tariku might just prove to be our family’s most ardent music lover. He’s on fire with rhythms and melodies, constantly banging on anything in sight. There is not any less music in my life now, there are just fewer topless Scandinavians. It’s still about the same thing: the songs, the family, the love, the adventure. I’m looking forward to seeing what this next chapter will bring.