Pitchfork

My roommate, God love him, is currently in his bedroom with a crazy woman. No, I don't hear piercing shouts of ecstasy; I just mean that the pieces in the puzzle of this girl don't make a pretty picture. We had a party last night and she showed up with a date, but slipped off with the guy whose name is on the lease. I honestly don't know what they were doing while they were gone, but her date was waiting outside for a while, looking much like the kind of sucker who'd get that end of the deal.

She's my favorite whipping girl of the hour, like the she-ghost of certain ex-girlfriends and perhaps a dainty crystal ball reading "oh fuck." My rage is more 'voodoo doll' than 'person annoyed,' but I guarantee you that I wouldn't be able to spend five minutes with this woman. On top of it all, she's not even that cute.

What does this have to do with Ween? Not a whole lot, but fuck it-- I now have an audience for the daily hell that is my negative attitude. You see, Ween makes music for the same reason I write: most of you people are idiots. Unlike Ween, I'm not getting rich off of you meat machines, but that's life and fuck you, too. You're gonna listen to me if I have to come over to your house and gouge out your eyes. "But then I can't read your work," you say. And my reply? "I don't want your love. I just want you to be blinded by my awesome thumbs. Grrrrr! Grrrr!" Then I'll steal your TV. Like you'll need it anymore. While you're at it, fork over the pornography and lava lamp. Leave crap like that to those of us with eyes, Helen Keller.

Ween live is visual, too. Gene and Dean like to mug and give smart-assed recreations of arena rock moments. (They're known to play a perfect cover of Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher", too.) Paint the Town Brown robs us of the visuals, which leaves the music. Alas, no tracks from The Mollusk are here, even though gigs from that tour were represented. These songs, handpicked by Deaner, luckily include b-sides and never-rans like the helium hillbilly hoedown "Mountain Dew" and the short, cranky "Cover It with Gas and Set It on Fire".

Classic tracks like "Voodoo Lady", "I Can't Put My Finger On It", and "Awesome Sound" are stretched out to the breaking point and stuffed with bad ideas and good intentions. "Doctor Rock" gets the Def Leppard treatment it's always needed. "Japanese Cowboy" takes a left turn at Vangelis for a terrifically terrible coda. I'm not sure if sometimes my love of Ween is based on how retarded they'll get, but people have loved John Tesh for more mysterious reasons. Connie Selleca-- Connie Selleca, people!-- has sex with that man on some sort of basis. This is a woman who must know the dark side of blackmail. For shame, Mr. Tesh. Shame on you for that and your Tour de France album.

Speaking of the Tour de France, Gene lays down the French on "Ode to Rene", another long-lost b-side on the first disc. That's right, Ricky. This is a two-disc set. A 26-minute take on "Poop Ship Destroyer" that serves as the greatest anti-drug public service announcement of all time (even though I dig it) and a 31-minute version of the Chocolate and Cheese tour staple "Vallejo" make up the bulk of the second disc. An in-store version of "Puffy Cloud" closes Disc 2 almost anti-climactically, but the amusing singalong makes up for the noodling and the damage done.

To close this positive review, I'd like to say that I don't want to go to the bathroom, even though I have to. You see, the roommate's bedroom is right by the bathroom. I made a similar mistake when I was 14 and caught my dad fucking my mom.