I Tried Weezify So You Don't Have To

On January 31st, the year of our lord 2022, the infinitely reputable Louder published a reality-shattering sentence onto the internet; Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo has built his own "Spotify-like player" known as Weezify. I read the headline multiple times, ensuring I was interpreting it correctly. I knew all those words, but I’ve never seen them arranged in such a way. Does this really mean what I think it means? 

This news was coming hot on the heels of musical titans like Neil Young and Joni Mitchell pulling their music off Spotify in the wake of the platform actively spreading anti-vaccine information. Elsewhere, Kanye West announced that his proprietary Stem Player hardware would be the only way to listen to his upcoming Donda 2. The music industry was shifting at speeds we’d never seen before. 

Artists are now beginning to realize that the negotiating power lies in their hands. They are the creators; platforms like Spotify and Apple Music are merely leeches that profit off their countless hours of hard work and years of honed craft. Much like the Starbucks workers unionizing and the Kellogg’s employees striking for better pay, we are collectively realizing the power we have in mutual support of each other. The pandemic has taught us many things as a society, but one of the more optimistic takeaways is discovering the strength we have in solidarity. Similarly, artists are clearly unhappy with the bill of goods they had been sold and are rightfully looking for alternatives. It’s time for innovation, true innovation. Enter Weezify. 

The proposition was simple. “Tired of Spotify? Come on over to Weezify.” Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo tweeted along with links to the Apple App Store, Google Play Store, and his personal website. How could I say no to that? Every day I wake up and listen to the 15-hour Weezer Discography playlist top to bottom; you mean to tell me that I can get this content somewhere else??

While many people (including myself) foolishly thought this was a goof or simply too good to be true, my curiosity got the better of me, and I soon found myself reluctantly clicking the link to the App Store. I stared at the app page for a minute as if I were standing outside the gates of heaven. “Be not afraid,” the icon seemingly whispered to me as I clicked the download button almost without thinking. 

Upon launching Weezify, you’re immediately greeted with a login screen. Still unsure if this was a legitimate app or just something designed to steal my social security information, I sheepishly clicked “Maybe later,” hoping that my fence-sitting response wouldn’t be reported directly to Mr. Cuomo himself. I am a Weezer Believer, but I also grew up in the era of computer viruses and Rickrolls, so I still have to follow my internet street smarts.

After clearing that screen, the app dumps the user directly into its “Player” tab, which I stared at for a good minute until I soon became crushed when I realized that it wasn’t going to load. A constantly-swirling blue loading icon taunted me, beckoning to the wild treasures that might hide behind it. My mind was racing.

Dismayed but not deterred, I clicked over to the “Profile” tab to work my way through the app left to right. I was informed that I was a “Lurker” as I stared at my profile picture: a Rivers Cuomo Funko Pop which sat perched atop a quote from “Surf Wax America.” Again, the app encouraged me to sign up or log in. Not yet, Rivers, you temptress. 

With the image of the cold, dead eyes of a Rivers Cuomo Pop Fig freshly burned into my mind, I clicked onto the “Market” tab and suddenly found myself face to face with… this.

Rivers Cuomo jump scare.

I howled. I recoiled. I don’t know what I expected to find on this page, but it was not a bowtie-clad Rivers Cuomo selfie staring me down. 

The top of the screen informed me that I own 0 of 12 bundles and 0 of 3236 demos. Three thousand two hundred and thirty-six demos. That’s enough Weezer to gorge yourself. That’s enough Weezer for a lifetime. That’s enough Weezer to bring you to your deathbed. 

I clicked on the selfie almost instinctively. It’s one of those moments where life has led you down a path, and you know what you must do. You can turn tail and run, but some divine being has led you to this moment, and you can decide to either press your thumb down gently upon Rivers Cuomo’s face, or you can deny yourself the experience that life has set out before you. 

A popup appeared with a slightly wider crop of the same photo and a description that reads, “New hope with our singing with Jonathan Daniel. Jake was a big influence.” Below that laid a series of confounding numbers. 

-2
-3
-4
-5
1-4-2-5 @126_2015_3_9_13_9_12
1-5-4
@771I_want_down_time_2015_2_23_17_23
116._one_time_2015_2_25_13_52_22

What is this? Some kind of code? Coordinates? A sleeper agent activation phrase? I was scared. 

Suddenly, audio began to emanate from my phone. I heard a Weezer song being played from a computer as Rivers Cuomo himself harmonized with the tune. Seemingly playing these tracks off of his personal speakers, Rivers clicked through various White Album-era demos and gave some background to the band’s recording process at the time. He rifled through the files, filled with wonder spurred by individual rarities and alternate melodies. It’s the same energy that I have while scrolling through my mp3 library, clicking on a half-dozen different tracks before landing on what I actually want to listen to. The difference here being that this was a man listening to his own songs. He sang along softly at various points before clicking feverishly onto the next file. After shuffling through various White Album oddities for a few unstructured minutes, he sighs, comes back to his senses, and unceremoniously says “alright… bye,” and then the recording ends. 

Slightly disoriented, I soon began to understand; each of these bundles had an “introduction” where Rivers himself gave some contextual background information on the specific era of the band and then encouraged you to purchase. Those numbers, coordinates, and inexplicable characters were individual tracks, all of which contribute to the collective 3-thousand-plus songs contained within the app. Whew. 

Rivers is no stranger to demos; his series of Alone albums from 2007, 2008, and 2011 gave a peek into the band’s early years and Cuomo’s specific creative process. This app is the slightly-illogical continuation of this, with thousands of demos available for Weezer superfans who want to fill every hour of every day with weird slightly-unpolished Weezer recordings unheard by most of the general population. 

With 12 bundles at $9 a pop (and one inexplicably priced at $10), that means you can currently have access to the entirety of the Weezer demo oeuvre for the low, low price of $109. How can one possibly say no to that?

In all seriousness, Weezify is a rough-around-the-edges app built for a bafflingly-small niche group of super fans. Is Weezify the answer to every intricacy of the Streaming Debate? Yes, it is. Will it replace Spotify? Also yes. Will I spend every waking hour of my life listening to things like “TechnoProgressions1 i VII VI iv”? Yes, I will. Thank you, Rivers Cuomo, for the one ethical musical streaming app, nay, company to ever have existed.