Enter at your own risk

Posted: Sunday, June 17, 2007 2:07 AM by John Roderick

Ween
I’ll confess up front that I cannot possibly understand Ween. For years they seemed like an elaborate prank, like eventually they’d say, “Ha! We were just kidding the whole time. We’re actually Yale cultural studies majors trying to determine how ludicrous a band could be and still have a following, and we’ve determined that there is no limit. Thanks for participating.”

They’ve been mating Frank Zappa’s scatological humor with everything from jazz to country for, what, 20 years? I get the impression that fans of Ween could listen to no other music but Ween and still have a fairly good grasp and appreciation of most musical styles. Likewise, you can listen to no Ween at all, as I have done, and still survive to adulthood undamaged.

Fans of Frank Zappa used to corner me at parties and talk about Frank’s brilliance, but all I could ever hear was him talking about poop over too many chords. Call me unsophisticated.

So I went to see Ween and caught a half a dozen songs, and just as I suspected they were musically fantastic, great players, great singers, and the atmosphere was perfect for the afternoon. They played six different styles in the course of six songs, from tender folk to spot-on death metal, and I walked away more convinced than ever that the universe of Ween cannot be dissected or discussed at length by those outside its realms.