Weezer (The Kool Haus, May 6)

Sometimes, going through the motions is all it takes.

Only the most fawning admirer would consider Weezer a superior live act.

Gifted though he may be at penning excellent three-minute guitar-pop anthems, and however intriguing his personal life, Rivers Cuomo has to be one of rock's most boring frontmen. His bandmates, though they appear to have a little more of a pulse, are effectively just window dressing. And the enormous trademark "W" lighting up the back of the stage notwithstanding, audiences would probably see more glitz and glamour sitting in with Cuomo at one his Harvard courses.

But if there's one thing Weezer has no shortage of, it's fawning admirers. So it's a rather simple proposition: Arrive on time for another night at the office, play the hits as straight-up as possible, throw in a few new tunes and let the fans do the work.

On this night, as most others, the faithful were more than up to the task. With the Kool Haus buzzing long before the lights were dimmed, fingers forming Ws in the air and voices chanting the band's name, it positively exploded as Rivers and Co. nonchalantly sauntered onto the stage and launched into Tired of Sex.

From that point, every song was treated as though it was a long-lost favourite the audience had been waiting a decade to hear, screams and high-fives greeting each set of opening chords. In a city in which acts that ask their audiences to dance are met with feet firmly planted to the floor, a band that serves up straight-ahead rock was playing to an audience so worked up it couldn't stand still.

For its part, the band is smart enough to give the people what they want. In little more than an hour, Weezer managed to churn out what amounted to a greatest-hits collection.

Naturally for a band whose fans have been on board from the beginning, the surprisingly heavy focus on its 1994 self-titled debut (better known as the Blue Album) drew the loudest response. Audience sing-alongs threatened to drown out Cuomo's mild vocals on Say It Ain't So, My Name Is Jonas and The Sweater Song (less so on a limp rendition of Buddy Holly). But Hash Pipe and Island in the Sun, both from what's come to be known as The Green Album, were greeted with similar rapture, and the band scored points by opening and closing with songs from 1996's Pinkerton - a disc it generally tends to skip over, but one revered by a contingent of critics and fans despite its initial bad reviews.

The six-song sampling served up from Make Believe - an album that won't be in stores until tomorrow - drew a more muted response. But with this crowd, that didn't mean a mass exodus to the bathroom or the bar. Fans, clearly, were eager to give the new stuff a chance - and Cuomo, no doubt keen for it to go over well, showed modest signs of life delivering it. That didn't much help with This Is Such a Pity, an awful '80s-esque tune that sticks out like a sore thumb in Weezer's oeuvre, but it did help bring to life the much better Hold Me and the catchy (if irritatingly radio-oriented) Beverly Hills.

For the most part, though, Cuomo never strayed from behind his microphone, looking so lifeless that it was almost surprising to hear reasonably strong vocals emerge from him. But whether they appreciate it as schtick or embrace him as a sort of cuddly depressive, his fans weren't complaining.

Considering the degree to which its supporters carry it, it's no surprise the band drew only lukewarm reviews at the recent Coachella Festival - an event populated by music fans of all stripes, not just diehard Weezerheads. But playing in front of the faithful, the reluctant rock 'n' roll gods can't go wrong.