Marc Hogan: Weezer, "Weezer (The Red Album)"

Pitchfork has standards. Really high standards. If Pitchfork reviewed mothers, yours would only score a 2.3/10, and she'd probably get punched in her uterus, possibly even causing it to prolapse. So much for that little brother you were hoping to have. Apparently your mom is too well-known and her style "tiresome."

If your own mother, the woman who sacrificed so much so you could receive the education that made you the success you are today, can't even break 3.0, then what hope does Weezer and their new self-titled album have?

Not much, according to reviewer Marc Hogan, although they do fair better than your poor moms (which means you should probably be sending that box of chocolates to Rivers Cuomo on Mother's Day instead).

It's always a bad sign when a review starts off by looking back longingly. "Remember when..." "It used to be..." "I had a girlfriend this one time..." This is what Hogan regales his readers with. Apparently he used to like Weezer, particularly their first two albums, Weezer ("The Blue Album") and Pinkerton. He even calls those two LPs "75 minutes of near-perfect power-pop." You will note that even perfection--a quality, trait, or feature of the highest degree of excellence--only receives a 9.3 in Pitchfork's domain. But after that first 75 minutes,the rest of the band's offerings went to shit, much like Hogan's review. His gaze remains fixed behind him for the rest of his review and fails to ever turn forward.

Readers are tired of reading about what was, and desperately want to read about what will be. What will Weezer's next album sound like? Will Pavement ever reunite? What will knock Pitchfork off their own self-constructed pedestal? These are the types of question that Hogan and all reviewers should be asking.

Marc Hogan's review offers no redeeming value. His review of Weezer's "The Red Album" is thusly awarded a Reiki affirmation.