Ween - Pure Guava

Part of the reason why I love Ween so much is their humor. I relate to it. On a daily basis. And I can be a problem.

Because there isn’t that many people who can relate or immediately appreciate this kind of humor. It’s druggy, nonsensical, childish, and downright wrong at times. So whenever you meet-or in this case, hear-someone who expresses the same kind of humor, you’re a friend for life. Mainly because you don’t have to preface anything before you begin to unleash some truly inappropriate comments about something.

Pure Guava was my first exposure to Ween, so this would have been the record where I first caught a glimpse of Dean and Gene Ween’s inappropriate behavior. It is with this album that I began to appreciate the duo’s work and keep up with their whereabouts.

It began with the “Secondary Radio Markets Promotions Representative” for Elektra Records named Traci. She was swell. More than any other person that I dealt with on a weekly basis as the Music Director for some small town radio station in Iowa. The only other person who could compare to her was some other rep-I believe the dude was on RCA’s payroll-who I always thought was an asshole until one day I referenced Steve Albini to him. From that point on we were buds. He told me about a Big Black show he attended where Albini came up to his friend as he pulled out a cigarette, and asked the unsuspecting smoker “Need a light, buddy?” Albini then produced a blowtorch or some kind of welder’s torch, which he proceeded to use as a cigarette lighter.

Traci at Elektra was different, though. She was a girl and I was a guy, and the fact that I could have educated and extended conversations about music-on the company dime, no less-was pretty awesome to me. We were both in relationships, so it wasn’t about anything sexual, and the fact that I was in Iowa and she was in New York City put a stop to any real social encounter. The guy she married also worked at Elektra, and when he got a big promotion, her job became eliminated, primarily due to the fear of the way their relationship would look to other staff members.

Needless to say, Traci would provide me the hook up to all of Elektra’s releases and promotional items that were beyond what my station would normally play. Pure Guava resulted from that relationship and I appreciate that in more ways that can be explained with this resulting “review” of it.

First of all, I marveled at the fact that anyone…ANYONE…would could pull off releasing an honest-to-goodness four track recording on a major label like Elektra. This was the shit that you remembered from the late 60’s or late 70’s when record companies had no idea what they were doing, other than sending out droves of A&R people with orders of “Sign more hippies” or “Get me some punk rockers on our roster.” There is nothing in Pure Guava that hints at commercial potential, and whatever funds that Ween secured from Elektra records-at the time part of the massive WEA group, which included Warner Brothers and Atlantic records-should be immediately cashed for fear that someone will figure out the ruse and put a stop payment on the advancement.

The record is known for “Push th’ Little Daisies,” the single that was later incorporated into an episode of MTV’s Beavis & Butthead who declared it to be the worst song ever. The “endorsement” was enough to propel the song into the alternative top 40 (for whoever kept such a tally) and the top 20 of the Australian singles charts, because they put acid in Vegemite down under.

The song is easy and incredibly catchy, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the inherent weirdness that lays throughout Pure Guava.

The record begins with “Little Birdy,” a sweet ode to our winged friends that seems to go horribly wrong with its warble guitars and pitched vocals. At one point, Gene cracks up, explaining, “See, the birdy make me laugh/Take a little birdy bath/I don’t know why he got me high.”

To me, it all made perfect sense.

Gene and Dean also break character on “I Play It Off Legit,” another weirdo favorite that examines the parlance of the times, specifically, the word “legit,” as in to be “legitimate.” The brothers carry on what sounds to be a phone conversation, which is nothing more than a declaration of things that are, or are not, “legit.” To clarify, “Mom bought me a cool shirt/When I wear it, I’m the shit/Really not that legit/My Mom bought it.”

Got it?

Highlights are “Pumpin’ For The Man,” a fast tempoed anthem to the struggles of the working man, dealing with the bossman demands to “Get your fingers out your ass/Pump some faggot’s gas/Some asshole down on Main Street needs a jump.”

And the curio “I Saw Gener Cryin’ In His Sleep” which has Dean re-telling a moment when he finds his brother crying while sleeping. In between the shitty guitar solo and an even worse whistling solo, lies some sage advice where Dean tells listeners to block the bad shit out of your head because “When it’s time for bed/You shouldn’t think about such stuff.”

Pure Guava is probably a quarter-hour too long and riddled with too many inconsistencies for it to qualify as necessary listening. But if there’s a part of you that enjoys an examination of juvenile humor, audio experiments and too many bong hits, then Pure Guava may serve as a welcomed reprieve to “playin’ it off legit” with your milquetoast reality.

Ween - 12 Golden Country Greats

Occasionally, I'll write a review where I enjoy the record far more than what the review would lead you to believe. These are releases that qualify as “guilty pleasures,” even though its a term that’s cheapened with the misconception that it’s something already perceived as awful by general consensus.

But a guilty pleasure doesn’t mean that it’s a bad record, at least not in my mind. Instead, I think of a guilty pleasure as a record that is neither groundbreaking nor all that well executed. For me, a guilty pleasure can be something that you enjoy listening to and have unchecked fondness for, without having a very good explanation for why it ranks in such high regard.

A good example of what I’m trying to explain is Ween’s 12 Golden Country Greats. It’s a record that I return to time an again for reasons that cannot be explained by the record’s place in recorded music or by the actual quality of the songs themselves.

I remember buying the album sight unseen and without the benefit of hearing a song sample. The very notion that Ween was devoting an entire record to one specific genre and were using some very legendary session musicians to help execute ten songs into a very misleading album title, was a very bold movie in my mind. It was an idea that remains as the most divisive entry in their cannon of weirdness and something that I felt deserved immediate support.

However, I can’t overlook the fact that I was somewhat disappointed after my first listen. It’s the most polished the brothers have ever sounded, which is a testament to the performers they’ve enlisted, I suppose, but after years of audible tape his in nearly every moment of their recording history up to this point, its absence suddenly sounds unsettling.

The other thing that was immediately off-putting was how subtle the humor is throughout 12 Golden Country Greats. Besides the obvious entries (“Piss Up A Rope,” “Mister Richard Smoker” and “Fluffy”), most of the record remains straight, at least by Ween standards.

Finally, I’m not utterly convinced that Ween aren’t entirely earnest in their appreciation with the genre of country music, a critical necessity when doing such a swan dive into such major left turns like this. And even though Gene does a nice roll call during “Powder Blue” of some of the musicians, he also has them present for such mundane moments like “I Don’t Wanna Leave You On The Farm,” a song so contrived that you want to apologize to the players for wasting their time with such rudimentary material.

Just as I would be remiss in telling you about all of these questionable moments on 12 Golden Country Greats is the fact that regularly let this record into my schedule and I’m just as regularly satisfied with it.

Ironically, it’s that subtle approach that makes such repeated listens so rewarding for me. When they let the talent loose during “Help Me Scrape The Mucus Off My Brain,” Ween goes beyond any prior expectations of how great of a project this could have been.

“You Were The Fool” reaches similar heights as the band counts off “Slow four….one, two, three, four…” A gentle acoustic moment is created while Gene effortlessly takes listeners on a wild ride, at one point advising, “You can speak with a turtle just by flippin’ him around.”

And I’m sorry, but “Piss Up A Rope” is one of the best “Fuck you” songs of all time, making 12 Golden Country Greats worth the price of admission.

As with any “guilty pleasure,” your mileage may vary, but for me 12 Golden Country Greats has gotten plenty of highway miles. It never quite reaches the heights that the idea hints at during a few moments, but it’s a project that I find strange comfort in their flawed attempt.

Fishing With Dean Ween

I don’t know why I didn’t learn about this before, but it’s awesome.

For anyone wondering what Ween does in the off-season, the answer is that we now know that half of the members are fishing…and making a living at it!

I guess I always assumed that Ween had been fully engulfed by the jam band populous that they could afford to constantly tour under the moniker and make a living.

After all-and I learned this later on-Ween is probably in peak form when they’re on stage.

Check out Ween covering Led Zeppelin.



Evidently that is not the case, and the duo must find other sources of income when the Ween machine is not on the road.

And for Dean Ween, that other source of income is taking you out as a sportfishing guide.

Want proof?

Take a visit to Mickey’s Guide Service which gives you the option of several guide packages to choose from and a list of credentials that is impressive.

But the credential that seems to me to be the most important is that he claims to be a “pretty good conversationalist.”

For real, if I had money to burn, I’d totally hook up with Captain Mickey Melchiondo and spend a day fishing with him. If things got too out of hand, he’s Red Cross certified in first aid and CPR.

Photo of Deaner courtesy of his website.