Question: Is it unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter-day sins? Jack Black's character posed such a query in "High Fidelity," a stumper that is exemplified by the muddled career arc of Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo.

Rock critics and Weezer loyalists alike have generally lambasted the nerd-rock pioneers' late-career output, but the band still charts remarkably well. "Raditude," the quartet's 2009 CD, debuted at No. 7, and the band continues to draw big audiences. In the buildup to the enigmatic rockers' headlining gig at this weekend's Basilica Block Party, we pondered: Does Weezer still matter in 2010?

Weezer burst into the national consciousness in 1994 with a self-titled debut, known by fans as the Blue Album. With cheeky, ironic videos and a sound that defied grunge, the record has sold upwards of 3.5 million copies, according to Nielsen SoundScan. The follow-up -- 1996's self-produced, emotionally revealing effort called "Pinkerton" -- peaked disappointingly at No. 19 and sent Cuomo into a psychological tailspin. Cuomo called the record "hideous" and a "hugely painful mistake" in a 2001 interview with Entertainment Weekly, but "Pinkerton" is now heralded by many as Weezer's magnum opus, a raw and earnest block of power-pop majesty. Even Cuomo has come around, calling the album "super-deep" and "brave" in a 2008 interview with Pitchfork.

In the wake of "Pinkerton," though, Weezer went on hiatus, losing original bassist Matt Sharp as Cuomo licked his wounds at Harvard. Redemption came in 2001 with another self-titled release (known as the "Green Album"). This chart-topping incarnation of Weezer saw its frontman emotionally guarded, and the music suffered. The slick, irresistible pop-rock was still there, but Cuomo had traded his boyish earnestness for a crutch of safe, callow songwriting. Gone are the endearingly geeky confessions and girl-fueled tumult, replaced by the inane vapidity of "Beverly Hills" (from 2005's "Make Believe") and "Troublemaker" (from 2008's "Weezer").

"Weezer is the kind of band that everyone grew up with," said Kevin McMahon, singer/guitarist of the immaculately named local tribute band Schitty Weezer. That band's guitarist, Paul Cahoy, says he senses some division at shows, as the most vocal audience members cry out exclusively for cuts from the Blue Album and "Pinkerton." Which leads us to the question McMahon would pose to his hero, Rivers Cuomo: What caused the shift between "old" and "new" Weezer? "There's obviously a huge difference in ... not the quality of music, because I think the music is still kick-ass," McMahon mulled. "But what happened?"

If Weezer 2.0 lacks heart, it hasn't come at the expense of popularity. Sarah Robbins, a clerk at Cheapo, said she sold plenty of "Raditude," but no longer considers herself a fan. "All the new stuff ... it depresses me, because I remember [the old] super fondly," she said, adding that most of the band's current success is due to marketability and nostalgia. Bill DeVille, a DJ at the Current, has noticed an uptick in his station's Weezer spins, agreeing that familiarity plays a large role. "So they're not a hipster band anymore. They sell out arenas; I mean, how can you argue with that?" he said, comparing them to pop-rock stalwarts Cheap Trick. "People like it, who's to say whether that's right or wrong? They're not the enemy."

Margaret Andrews, Star Tribune

Plus, as Eric Harvey of Spoon -- which co-headlines the Basilica bash -- points out, at least there's evidence of something buried deep. "You can't really fault the guy [Cuomo] for being emotionally guarded, in the position of being a pop star," Harvey said. "There are lots of other pop stars that are emotionally guarded from the very beginning -- you'd never have any idea what the heck they're thinking and half the time they don't write their own songs anyway."

In a world of Ke$has and Biebers, is a little cheesy power-pop really the problem? No, but the neo-Weezer ire might draw on something deeper. To many 20- to 40-year-olds, the name Weezer means something. Their resentment might stem from the very thing that derailed Cuomo 14 years ago: hurt feelings.

So, does Weezer matter in 2010? Ali Jaafar and legions of other young musicians may provide a more sentimental answer. Jaafar, 22, who fronts local gloom-pop up-and-comers Zombie Season, likens Weezer to a "gateway drug" to better music for his generation. "Weezer was this really big, popular alternative rock band when we were kids that didn't suck," Jaafar said. "Maybe we're still not buying their new records; they still matter because they made Blue Album, they made 'Pinkerton.'"

Jaafar, and countless other indie start-ups, still has those records coursing through his veins; they crafted a helix of his musical DNA. Much is made of the Velvet Underground's influence on underground music, but its net was restrictively small, whereas MTV beamed the impetus for thousands of Zombie Seasons into living rooms and basements everywhere.

For this weekend's block party, Cities 97 and the Basilica hired an egalitarian crusader in Weezer. How often do you come across a band that tugs at nostalgia so firmly while still topping the charts? That is why Weezer still (sort of) matters: a combination of endearing memories and resilient relevance. The group's meaningfully artful era may be gone forever, but wistful gripers and newer fans will both come to watch an always-smirking, dialogue-inspiring band slay it live.