I mean Weezer’s "Hash Pipe,"
of course. We’re all pleased that Rivers Cuomo has found his
bullwhip-cracking muse again; he writes the best hard pop songs since
Ric Ocasek, who was by no means an accidental choice to produce Weezer’s
first album. With "Hash Pipe," which Ocasek also produced,
that muse digs its spurs into Cuomo’s ribs and rides him like
a bucking bronco. It’s more than a single: it’s a truly
great one, and that’s a rare commodity in the age of "I
Like Girls That Wear Abercrombie and Fitch." "El Scorcho,"
the single from Weezer’s last album Pinkerton, wasn’t
awful, but it wasn’t fit to tie the shoes of a song like "Buddy
Holly." Its commentary on its own status -- as the first
single from the follow-up album to a highly successful debut -- made
disappointment almost inevitable, and its title’s smarmy self-awareness
didn’t help matters. "Hash Pipe," on the other hand,
came to play ball. It’s at least as good as anything on that
great first album, and in its real depth, it’s even better. It
is like Van Halen’s "Panama" for smartasses, or Ozzy’s
"Crazy Train" for hard-drinking, high-S.A.T.-scoring seniors.
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