What You Missed: Weezer at Breese Stevens Field

Rivers Cuomo walks out, dancing to his own cover of Toto's "Africa", wearing plain jeans, a Madison bike tee and a green flannel shirt. Despite being the reason that 9,300 people have sold out Breese Stevens on a Wednesday night, he looks like he could be any random member of the crowd.

After all, a band like Weezer doesn't need any huge theatrics to bring people in: their discography spans 15 albums and over 30 years, building a cult-like fanbase that knows the radio hits just as well as the deep cuts. And having toured dozens and dozens of times, most of the performance is simple clockwork. Despite that, Weezer still love a good theme. For this time around, they've called the tour the Indie Rock Roadtrip Tour, bringing us back to a time when you'd pop a cassette in your car stereo while driving across state lines.

They've brought up-and-coming indie band Momma and Madison-favorite Modest Mouse along for the ride. We visited Momma last year when they opened up for Snail Mail at Majestic, and it's clear that they're snowballing their success and constantly refining. The four band members all dawn sunglasses and grunge-rock glares as they roll through a short seven-song setlist, starting with "No Stage." They also pull out their newest single, "Bang Bang" in the middle of the set. Our two frontwomen, Etta and Allegra, do a bit more crowdwork since the last time we've seen them, shouting out a fan in the crowd wearing Momma merch.

Also on the roadtrip is Modest Mouse, who has famously sold out The Sylvee twice now. Tonight, they find just as many fans in the crowd, plenty of which are wearing their merch. Formed around the same time as Weezer, Modest Mouse is comprised of five main members. Their mellow track, "Dramamine" sets the mood for their set, floating between thirteen tracks that balance their most well-known and a handful of newer ones as well. Even with many fans in the front row, leadman Isaac Brock prioritizes sinking into each song over any crowd interaction or from cracking jokes between songs. They manage to squeeze in the well-loved, "Float On" and "Dashboard" before waving goodbye.

It's a moderately warm day for an outdoor show, and as the stage hands work to build Weezer's set, the setting sun glows orange and red from the wildfire smoke blowing down from Canada. Breese is nearly packed now, some fans opting for the bleachers or laying out a blanket versus standing on the lawn.

Weezer's stage is designed like a giant car dashboard--a four-foot steering wheel on stage right and a FM tuner and cassette player in the middle. During the show, Cuomo subtly plays with the idea of us being in a soccer-field-sized car together. A few songs in, he begins a song before realizing that it's much quieter than the last. He pauses, then turns to the sound board to indicate that something's wrong. For a moment, we believe that there's a real audio issue happening. But Cuomo just turns around, stretches his arms around the oversized volume knob behind him and pretends to turn the volume up himself. It fixes the "problem" and they restart the song.

For most of their career as a band, Weezer have carried that teenage-boy playfulness through their music, singing lines like, "I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans." It's an attitude that would eventually inspire a new generation of pop punk bands like blink-182 who drove into the awkward and angsty themes of adolescence. That teenage nostalgia is as strong as ever tonight, except instead of teens, it's the grown-up dads screaming the lyrics to "Beverly Hills" and "Say It Ain't So." There aren't many places where you can watch grown men let it loose like this, but a few beers and a surprise performance of "O Girlfriend" later, and the toughest looking guys are suddenly a bit teary-eyed and clutching their chests.

The bunch the slow songs together, giving us the first performance of "O Girlfriend" since 2002 before heading into a trio formation for the acoustic ballad, "Susanne." It's at this point when half the crowd checks out, not entirely interested or knowledgeable on the acoustic songs. They revive us with a theatrical performance of "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)" before getting into the beloved, "Island in the Sun," a song that feels like it was designed for listening to the radio on a summer day.

Cuomo then declares himself as our father figure for the evening, saying that "dad needs to take a family photo" and snapping a selfie with the huge crowd. Despite two openers and a thus far 15-song setlist, the time is flying and we're nearing the end. They pull out a run of new and old songs, alternating from the AJR collab, "All My Favorite Songs" to "Say It Ain't So" into a solo version of the newer, "Run Raven, Run." They rip through another favorite, "Hash Pipe" before ending with "Thank You and Good Night," a 2022 track seemingly designed as a closing song.

Even though we know there's a few more songs to come, Weezer pretends to leave us as the crowd roars loud enough to hear from the capitol. They rejoin us moments later for a few more, ending with a very special surprise.

For context: Milwaukee band, Diet Lite (specifically Evan Marsalli), began posting TikToks playing the beginning riff of "Buddy Holly," saying that he was going to make a video every single day until Rivers Cuomo duetted the video and finished the riff. After 990 days and a lot of patience, he finally caught his attention.

Cuomo also subtly invited Marsalli to play the riff live on the tour. Both of them kept their promise as Cuomo introduced their final song by playing Marsalli's TikTok for the audience. He then pulled him from backstage, put a guitar in his hands, and they played out the riff together. The crowd screamed every last word and cheered on Evan as the Wisconsin stop to the Indie Rock Roadtrip came to a close.

With the distinctly 2000s sound and goofy personalities of the Weezer boys, they still manage to impress their oldest and newest fans alike. You can hardly be mad about not being able to see when the thing obstructing your view is a toddler on his dad's shoulders, singing along to the same songs his dad listened to growing up.