High School Haircuts and Heartache: Andre Pettipas and The Giants Nail the Teenage Experience in “Definition of a Dweeb”

Some songs don’t just get stuck in your head—they hit you square in the chest, like a diary entry you didn’t know someone else had written. That’s exactly what happened the night I saw Andre Pettipas and The Giants live during the ECMAs. I had never heard of them before that week, but as soon as they launched into “Definition of a Dweeb” (and spoiler alert: mashed it up with The Tragically Hip’s “Grace, Too”), I was completely hooked. There was something raw, anthemic, and real about it. The lyrics, the delivery, the energy—it all came together to create a portrait of teenagehood that was equal parts awkward, aching, and oddly empowering.

As someone who definitely identified with the “dweeb” label back in the day—I mean, I had my hair cut like Harry Styles in Grade 7 during my One Direction phase—I felt seen. This song dives headfirst into the emotional fog of adolescence: the moments you feel like an outcast, the fear of being noticed for all the wrong reasons, and the desperation to belong, even if it means compromising who you are. It’s not just nostalgic—it’s deeply human.

Full Review:

At its core, “Definition of a Dweeb” is an anthem for every awkward, misunderstood, emotionally raw teenager who ever walked a high school hallway with their head down and their heart racing. The track opens with a line that sets the tone immediately:

“And the fear has set in, not vacant and you’re shaking / And the lightning disappears in a split second.”

The storm imagery is powerful—it’s not subtle, but it’s effective. Fear doesn’t show up with fanfare; it’s quiet, sudden, and completely disarming. That’s what being a teenager often feels like. You’re never quite sure when the ground will shift beneath you, but you know it will.

The recurring refrain—

“My highschool hair-do / All I wanted was a buzz but the last thing was I got cut too”

—sounds like a throwaway joke at first. But it’s layered. That line captures how even the smallest decisions during adolescence—like a haircut—can feel like the end of the world. The “buzz” becomes symbolic: maybe it’s a fresh start, an attempt to fit in, or an effort to rebel. But in the end, it doesn’t go as planned, and the protagonist is left with a physical reminder of feeling misunderstood, even in their own skin.

Pettipas leans into vulnerability without apology. The chorus and verses don’t just describe feeling like an outsider—they inhabit it:

“Overcast, an outcast, someday they’ll notice something wrong…”

That line punches you in the gut. It’s not just about being excluded—it’s about the fear that there’s actually something wrong with you, and that sooner or later, people will see it. It’s the kind of self-conscious dread so many teens carry but rarely articulate. The use of the word “dweeb” may sound lighthearted, but here, it becomes a badge of bittersweet identity.

“Definition of a dweeb (that’s me) / Definition of a dweeb (wait and see)”

There’s self-deprecation, sure—but also a glimmer of resilience. A “wait and see” that suggests, “Maybe I’m a mess now, but I won’t be forever.” It’s this duality that makes the song so compelling. Yes, there’s insecurity and exhaustion (as the line “All along you realize that you are tired” captures so well), but there’s also self-awareness, even wisdom, that transcends age. It’s rare to hear a song about youth that respects how emotionally complex it really is.

And then—like a surprise lightning strike—the band transitions into a snippet of “Grace, Too” by The Tragically Hip during their live set. It’s a genius move. “Grace, Too” is a song about identity, performance, and vulnerability too. The fusion of these two tracks doesn’t feel forced; it feels natural, like two generations of storytelling colliding in a single moment of catharsis. It gave the audience a moment to breathe, to remember, and to feel the weight of what was just sung.

Final Thoughts:

“Definition of a Dweeb” is more than just a rock song. It’s a coming-of-age confessional disguised as a high-energy anthem. It’s humorous, yes—but never at the expense of its emotional truth. It embraces the messiness of growing up: the bad haircuts, the shaky confidence, the quiet exhaustion of trying to be someone you’re not, and the hopeful defiance of owning who you are anyway.

Andre Pettipas and The Giants don’t just play this song—they live it. And during that ECMAs performance, they didn’t just sing to a crowd—they sang to every awkward, anxious, self-aware teen who ever needed to know that being different didn’t mean being alone. If this is what they’re capable of live and on record, then I can’t wait to hear what comes next.

Because honestly?

I still have a high school hair-do in my heart—and this song gave it an anthem.