Ween is probably the most original band of our generation and also the most misunderstood. Their cult following has exploded over the past three decades, while creating music that includes straightforward rock and humor at its raunchiest.
For those of you not familiar with Dean and Gene Ween (both stage names for Mickey Melchiondo, and Aaron Freeman), these guys go all out when it comes to ridiculously offensive lyrics and exploring wildly diverse musical genres. One might compare Ween to the satirical Frank Zappa, although they are rooted more in rock and roll rather than compositional epics, and their humor is less subtle, chock-full of in-your-face, odious subject matter.
You may remember their puppet performance of the tune “Hey There Fancypants” on the popular Comedy Central show, Crank Yankers. Ween’s career has given listeners countless EPs and 15 major label releases, including their most recent, La Cucaracha.
If you’re a typical Ween fan, like me, you will enjoy the fact that La Cucaracha jumps back to the old days of Ween when songs were hilariously juvenile and poles apart but still cohesive as an album. You can bet this record is full of scumbag humor with song genres ranging from slow ballads to kinky reggae and from hard rock to country. Sounds weird, huh? It is. But that is exactly what Ween strives for — complete weirdness. La Cucaracha achieves this with parodic grace.
The first track, properly entitled “Fiesta,” is instrumental, abusing the synthetic drunken mariachi horns. The album then moves to the chill groove of “Blue Balloon,” where Gene employs high-pitched vocals affected by helium and bizarre, nasally tones in between lyrics. “Friends” is an ambiguously gay, up-tempo dance song, leaving the listener feeling pestered by an overenthusiastic acquaintance.
My favorite track is the hoedown-style country song with incoherent hillbilly phrases, “Learnin’ to Love.” This song seems to revert back to Ween’s 1996 release, 12 Golden Country Greats. But don’t be alarmed by the word “country,” because these songs are far from the typical Dixie Chicks, Kenny Chesney or even Johnny Cash country styles. Ween’s country style is what I would call “Nashville sarcasm.” Although, the music is as much a tribute as it is mockery.
“The Fruit Man” is a slow, reggae song, telling the story of vendors arguing about the quality of their products while on the side of the street. One of the more offensive tracks is “My Own Bare Hands,” in which the narrator crudely complains about his recent relations with a female and declares he would rather masturbate. Only Ween could write a song like that.
New listeners beware! You may be left scratching your head. But you should take a chance on La Cucaracha. I am sure it will make you laugh out loud. And to the Ween veterans, this record has everything you would expect from the band, obscene humor and incredible song construction. This is definitely up there with the classics like Chocolate and Cheese and The Mollusk.
