The former Weezer bassist collects his paintings, bonds with his family, and gets some
On a recent Saturday afternoon, Mikey Welsh, best known as the guy who played bass on Weezer's "Green Album," is doing some heavy lifting.
With the exception of some informal practice in the privacy of his Vermont home, Welsh no longer plays rock music - there's no more "Island in the Sun" or "Hash Pipe." He's an artist now, a painter who makes strangely haunting, childlike works with scribbles and bright colors.
Welsh is in Boston today because he has been showing his collection on the walls of the Paradise Lounge. Some of his paintings have sold. He's just finished loading the leftovers into the back of a U-Haul to take back to South Burlington.
In the driver's seat, Welsh sets out in the direction of Coolidge Corner, where he grew up. The Brookline High graduate, now 36, is going to spend some time at his parents' house in town before he and his wife head back to Vermont.
"I like driving a van," he says. "That's all I did for my entire 20s until I was in Weezer."
The Weezer years are dark ones, but Welsh doesn't mind talking about them. Most people know how that period of Welsh's life ended: In 2001, just after the "Green Album" was released, Welsh became depressed, overdosed on drugs, was hospitalized, and diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
But before all of that, the music business was fun for a while. Welsh recalls the day that Weezer took a private jet for a last-minute appearance on "Saturday Night Live."
"That's the closest I ever got to being in Led Zeppelin, when we had that private jet," he says.
Other surreal moments? Well, there were New Year's parties thrown by Gwen Stefani. And there was that time he was sitting at a Hollywood soiree with actor Vincent Gallo and looked up and saw bandmate Rivers Cuomo talking to musician Perry Farrell. After having toured with small bands and lower-profile musicians (including Juliana Hatfield), Welsh welcomed the Hollywood lifestyle. But as it turned out, he wasn't suited for it. He was overwhelmed.
"I'm not much of a rock star anymore. I haven't been for a long time," he says. "I only have a couple of friends that I see once in a while. I read. I paint. I also snowboard."
Back at his childhood home in Brookline, Welsh parks the U-Haul and heads inside. He's greeted by his dad, Doug, a developer. His mom, Christine, an interior designer, is upstairs.
Then there's his wife, Danielle. Welsh met her more than 15 years ago at a rock show in Boston, but they were just friends at first. A couple years after his breakdown, Welsh decided to visit Danielle in Vermont. Within a week of that trip, they got married. He says it just felt right. They've been together for five years.
In the hallway, Danielle holds Jack, their 15-month-old son. She calls him Bunny.
"I hear you're going to get shoes," Welsh says to the pair, who nod.
Jack smiles and reaches out as people walk by.
"He's incredibly affectionate. He's a love baby," Danielle says.
Welsh offers a quick tour of the Brookline house, with a stop in the living room where Welsh shows off a lineup of Burton snowboards emblazoned with his paintings. Proudly, he discloses that the snow gear company has bought the rights to his works to put on their equipment.
Then, Welsh heads out the door for a quick smoke. From the back patio, he points up to the kitchen window.
"I tried to commit suicide in that room," he says, with a sad grin.
He can't say for sure what caused the breakdown. By the time Weezer was about to film its second video for "Island in the Sun" in 2001, Welsh was miserable. He was about 50 pounds too thin. It was a fast downward spiral.
Since the overdose, Welsh says that he and Cuomo have barely been in touch. Cuomo once sent Welsh a letter, an apology of sorts, to get some closure. The two had been close friends.
"He had a tight grip on the band and he was relentless with it," Welsh says. "It was like getting a divorce."
Welsh stops himself from saying more about the past and begins a quick walk to Coolidge Corner for some Starbucks coffee, which he says is superior to Dunkin' Donuts'. "At least that's my opinion," he says.
In line at the busy coffee shop, he looks at a display of CDs. He doesn't recognize any of the bands. He says he's totally unfamiliar with new music and limits his intake these days to the Beatles and Led Zeppelin.
Really, it's all about art now, something he took up in the hospital after the overdose. His mother brought him some supplies and he began to paint.
"It sounds kind of corny, but it started this intense healing sensation," he says.
Coffee in hand, Welsh walks back for some more family time before he, Danielle, and Jack return to Vermont, a place where, thankfully, life is simple.
Meredith Goldstein can be reached at mgoldstein@globe .com.
