Pitchfork

Does the world need a seventh official disc of live Ween? Well, no, but at least a few of us find it a happy occurrence. That, presumably, is the reason they've released, via website, a triple set, bracketed by a single live disc, and this latest release, taken from an in-studio webcast-- in addition to a more widely released two-disc set. So your options are open, but let me make a case for this as the definitive live Ween album of the moment: Only three of these tracks appear on their prior live releases, and four of them have never been available on CD until now, so value's in. And if All Request Live is not the best choice if you're looking for dirty-mindedness and sheer rockitude, it is unquestionably the brownest live Ween of them all.

That twistedness leads to the biggest plus/minus of the album. Following a wonderfully psychedelic version of "Happy Colored Marbles" from 2003's quebec comes "The Stallion", Parts 1-5. 18 minutes of screaming, moaning, pounding and thrashing (and briefly, melodic jamming) is funnier in conception than it is in execution. Admittedly, the fact that fans voted online for the first joint appearance of parts 1, 2 & 3 is great. The addition of a new Pt. 4 is genius. The addition of a new Pt. 5 is so wrong it's almost, but not quite, right. Nonetheless, most Weenies take the approach that there's no such thing as too much of a good thing, and in that context, there's quite an appeal to so many variations on a theme, and the boys really do wring more out of it than you'd expect. It's a prime example of their main dichotomy: a sense of humor so puerile that at times even Jack Black would be embarrassed, and musicianship so strong that you'd swear they'd been gigging since the 70s.

After this minor rut, the album provides variety in spades: a heartbroken tenor crooner alone at the keyboard; a two-minute boogie-bash wherein Dean demonstrates the happy medium between Eddie Van Halen's notes-per-second and Stevie Ray Vaughan's look-how-far-I-can-bend-this; an awesome deep-southern-fried slow stomp; a version of a Chinese folk dirge to a deceased mate. This array of styles is a huge component of their live releases, as the albums of late have been very thematically focused. quebec is the only recent exception, and this is a better album.

Next comes their sketch of the Mang asking Mr. Addled Whiteboy what "pollo" means, trailed by an unassailable rendition of "ReggaeJunkieJew". A wild example of combined juvenility and accomplishment, it works up to a steady bassline that rocks, funks and calls to mind Pee Wee Herman doing his "Tequila" dance. Anything with guitar lines so subtly shredding and lyrics including the word Matsohfarian can only be bowed before. Again with the dichotomy-- two totally straight luv-u-always paeans parenthesizing a freaked and fractured guitar-snarl that seems to equate mononucleosis with a bad psychedelic trip. And one of these odes-to-muse actually proposes, "'Cause tried and true, I see the light in you. Oh, can you dig in my soul? Could you smell my w/hole... life?"

We've been through the tunnel of Ween, and the absolute highlight is waiting: "Where'd the Cheese Go?" is a rendition of the duo's notorious rejected Pizza Hut jingle that's been upped to nearly six minutes. It may be the best balance of idiot/savant they've accomplished to date. The music is burbly Cars intro meets chicken-scratch JB's guitar, double-dating Cameo's vocoder and the "Purple Rain" guitar wind-up-- and it's all anchored by a bass so fluid I barely believe it has strings. Never mind how warped the lyrics are. (I could attempt excerpts, but without the accents, it's pretty pointless.)

Ween's appeal isn't universal, and this release hews even further from the mainstream than unusual. Good thing, too, as it's in the band's interest to keep their fanbase happy. Even if they garner new devotees, most of them will probably be age 13, thus becoming too cool within a few years for a band so childlike. That leaves Ween with a fairly large fanbase old enough to know better and sharp enough not to care. And that raises an interesting question-- how many die-hards actually bought this disc? I don't think Ween give a shit, but it'd be nice to know how amply they're being rewarded for treating fans right in the course of running their own little web-label.