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Old partners reunite to polish Weezer

If alt-rock's nerd division ever needed a conquering hero, singing-songwriting Rivers Cuomo and Weezer answered its call. Starting in 1994 with Weezer (The Blue Album), the band forged urgent, sugared anthems of awkward-boy empowerment touched by the volu

If alt-rock's nerd division ever needed a conquering hero, singing-songwriting Rivers Cuomo and Weezer answered its call. Starting in 1994 with Weezer (The Blue Album), the band forged urgent, sugared anthems of awkward-boy empowerment touched by the volume of pop-metal and highlighted by the smart-ass, post-everything irony that dudes growing up in MTV's death throes adored. Remember gazing amazed at how Weezer on the Spike Jonze-directed video for "Buddy Holly" was transported into the Happy Days '50s? Were we really ever that innocent?

The wonder boy became a man, and Cuomo (then 24, now 44) eventually took daring chances with his iconographic lyricism and sound, turning kiddish cynicism into get-off-my-lawn crabbiness and augmenting metal-Archies-music kitsch with novelty leaps into lumpy rap and Dr. Luke gloss. Which is what makes 2014's just-released Everything Will be Alright in the End, and Saturday's sold-out show at the Trocadero fascinating.

For the new album, Weezer reunited with producer Ric Ocasek, who made The Blue and The Green Albums' melodies shiny and crisp. In Saturday's live setting, Cuomo's crunchy new "The British Are Coming," with its we-won't-take-it-anymore cockiness sounded brusque in that taut pop manner custom-made for Weezer's merry/unmerry melodies. The subtly offbeat "Da Vinci" came with an adorable love note: "Stephen Hawking can't explain you / Rosetta Stone could not translate you." Most crucially, he seemed to be trying to make up for the mess of the last several albums. "I thought I'd get a new audience / I forgot that disco sucks," he sniffed through "Back to the Shack."

Best way to make amends? Give a crowd the hits, which Weezer did, acoustically mimicking their electric takes during the show's first half. Standing before a screen with members entering individually - Cuomo squeaking through "You Gave Your Love to Me Softly," guitarist Brian Bell singing "Why Bother?" and hand-cast-wearing bassist Scott Shriner singing the low-voiced "King" - Weezer plucked and banged through its past. From the rarely played "The Other Way" to 2004's gleeful "The Good Life," stripping down allowed the intricate simplicity of Weezer's melodies to shine more boldly.

Through that set, I got a deeper appreciation of Weezer-craft, which only grew when the band riff-rocked thorough its new album. Criminally catchy, oddly discordant, and divided among snide-but-touching tributes to women ("Cleopatra"), paternity ("Foolish Father," which ended with a choir on stage) and its dedicated listeners (a Queen-like "I've Had It Up to Here"), Weezer proved it hadn't lost its touch for dramatic, caustic pop. It just grew up.