It's not easy being a Ween fan sometimes.
You're never sure quite what to expect from Dean and Gene Ween. Whether you hate 'em or love 'em, or fall ambiguously in the middle, Ween is one of those bands that can really be assessed only by taking in its. entire, pardon the French, oeuvre. And that's not an entirely pleasurable task.
But even a casual listener of, say, 1994's cheeky "Chocolate and Cheese," 1996's countrified "12 Golden Country Greats," and last year's (relatively) straight "White Pepper" knows that the shifts in tone and genre challenges that Dean and Gene heap upon themselves and therefore, upon their fans, are their own reward. It can make for frustrating purchases, but, after over 20 years of picking up the duo's recordings, all Weenies know that.
Really, the main expectation for followers of the band is not to trust the guys once famed for inhaling Scotchguard on a regular basis to keep releasing the same old stuff. Formed in 1984 out of amped-up adolescent energy, when a young Mickey Melchiondo (Dean) and Aaron Freeman (Gene) gravitated to each other as the new kids at a new school and because of a mutual love of music, Ween definitely doesn't like to sit idle. And while jumping from style to style - and, perhaps more important, constantly tweaking the level of humor - from album to album may be confusing to some listeners, but, seven records later, such fluidity has its benefits.
"People don't expect us to make any kind of record," Melchiondo says. "I think a band like Slayer - who I love - they have to bring that every time.... With Ween, we can go backwards or forwards.
"I think Ricky Martin, he has to worry. If he dyed his hair blond, it might affect his career. Ween doesn't have to worry."
But not many bands tend to move so ambidextrously, and the ones that do tend to be on independent labels. Ween managed to follow its creative leanings vigorously during its tenure at Elektra, the company it called home from 1993's four tracked "Pure Guava" through "White Pepper." The band was dropped with one record left on its contract, Melchiondo explains, because "the advance was massive, and we just don't have the sales for that." He's not sure whether Ween's next album, which he and Freeman have begun work on, will find the band on a major or minor label.
"There was a time when (Elektra) signed us in like 1992 when bands like Ween had a chance to be on the radio.... But it's not like that now."
Lack of a specific landing place is expected for Ween and any other band so squirmy about being pigeonholed, especially considering the introspective, often humorless music that currently dominates new rock stations. Part of the appeal is that the Weens don't take themselves as seriously as, say, a Creed or U2.
Early on, Melchiondo and Freeman's employment of an array of musical styles and structures combined with their parodic sensibilities to set the boys up as a joker band, which has seen them variously written off as clowns and taken to task for not continuing to crank out obviously comedic songs such as "Spinal Meningitis (Got Me Down)."
"After we didn't do 'Chocolate and Cheese' on four-track, we got a lot of sh-," Melchiondo says. "And then we did the country one, and you wanna talk about getting shit?... I try and stay more long-term thinking about Ween. I know when something sucks and I wouldn't put it out if it did"
Lately the Weens have been cranking out the side projects - a cover of Atlanta Rhythm Section's "Champagne Jam" for the still-to-be-released "Mr. Show" movie "Run, Ronnie, Run," theme music for the TV show "Grounded for Life," another collaboration with a couple of folks from Japan's Boredoms. Ween is also re-releasing 1990s "God Ween Satan: The Oneness," with three new tracks ("Hippie Smell," "Bumble bee Pt. II" and "Stacey").
And, they're on tour, stopping in Tucson Monday to give up one of their three-hour concerts. Long shows are actually one constant fans do expect. Well, that and "they expect us to get high with them," Melchiondo says. It's not easy being Ween sometimes, either.