It was a Ween weekend, as the band’s devotees descended on Las Vegas, ripe for a good time—although it seemed a few were also just, well, ripe.
“It smells like farts,” declared Gene Ween (aka Aaron Freeman). “It smells like human shit!” laughed his brother-in-rock, Dean Ween (aka Mickey Melchiondo). Typical Ween smack-talk, but even the occasional whiff of unshowered fan didn’t keep the duo and their tight band from cranking out over two hours of tunes, from philosophical opener “Don’t Shit Where You Eat” to the synth-y surrealism of “Mister Won’t You Please Help My Pony?”
But, unlike many bands, the comedy twists just add to Ween’s chops, rather than hide the lack thereof, as they warped genres from folk to funk, punk to power-pop. The mock prog-rock of “The Stallion Pts. I & III” reminded all of us who Jack Black ripped Tenacious D’s schtick from, while “Japanese Cowboy” and “Powder Blue” each skewered country-western from a different angle. Additionally, Angelo Moore of Fishbone stepped in to add some suitably velour-toned sax to the slow-jamming “Your Party.”
“We should play Vegas all the time,” Gene announced, “Do a residency, three shows a night.” Then they kicked into an appropriately show-bizzy version of “Mr. Richard Smoker,” complete with scat-singing and jazz hands. Considering how Ween managed to fill the house for three nights, why not?
Photos by Erik Kabik Photography/MediaPunch