Years of hard partying haven’t managed to kill Ween dead

There are four pieces of music in this world that have moved me to tears: Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, Pink Floyd’s “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”(yeah, I know—bite me) and the songs “Stay Forever” and “It’s Gonna Be (Alright),” both by the wildly eclectic, unforgivably strange alternative rock duo Ween. Shocked as I was to find myself crying at a classic rock cliché like “Shine On,” that surprise paled in comparison to the sheer bafflement I felt as I shed a sympathetic tear or two over the Ween tunes—number one, because I usually find love songs sappy, and number two, because we’re talking about a group whose body of work includes haunting ballads like “Piss Up a Rope” and “Touch My Tooter.”

Fact is, though, in spite of all the off-color clowning, Ween is not and has never been the “joke” band many people take it for. Such superb albums as The Mollusk and White Pepper convey depth, intensity and insightfulness, and even much of Ween’s more comical material is based on sincere emotions, be they disdain (“Mister Richard Smoker”) or gratitude (“She Fucks Me”).

“I think that all of our stuff is totally autobiographical, even going back to the first record,” offers guitarist Mickey Melchiondo (alias Dean Ween), who acts as one half of Ween along with vocalist/rhythm guitarist Aaron Freeman, aka Gene Ween. “[2003’s] Quebec is definitely a dark record—there’s songs about divorce, there’s songs about drugs, there’s songs about depression. I think our stuff is very, very honest—if we’re in a dark place, then you get a dark record.”

This time out, though, the mood is far lighter. “Fiesta,” the opening track on Ween’s just-released La Cucaracha album, lets us know these boys are feeling pretty cheerful these days—a state of affairs that we can probably chalk up at least in part to Freeman’s successful recovery from drug addiction. Ween’s appearance at the Civic this Friday marks a far happier time in the duo’s history than did their last Santa Cruz gig—approximately one week after the group’s October 14, 2004 Civic performance, the group was forced to pull the plug on the remaining dates of their tour so that Freeman could check into rehab.

“Touring for Quebec was a major drag,” Melchiondo recalls. “We were a mess. The two of us were all fucked up big time, to a non-creative point, to a non-anything point, where there’s nothing left but getting fucked up. For the first time ever, Ween was not fun, and Ween was always the most fun thing in the world. It was a real wakeup call: ‘Jesus, this one thing that has brought us so much happiness—getting paid to do what we love the most—is a drag!’”

Melchiondo, who believes he and Freeman have partied as hard as, if not more than, any band ever, says he’s backed off on the non-pharmaceutical supplements: “I’m drinkin’ a beer right now, having a cigarette, but I haven’t put anything up my nose or eaten any pills in three years. And Aaron is sober—for real sober.”

While Melchiondo and Freeman’s new, healthier lifestyles may add years to their lives, one has to wonder whether sobriety will strike a blow to the duo’s authentically warped musical style. Melchiondo, however, says that tales of Ween’s alleged drug use during writing and recording sessions have been blown out of proportion. “We never, ever sat down to record and said, ‘OK, let’s meet tonight at the studio, and we’ll drop acid and write songs,’” he contends. “I don’t think [Aaron’s sobriety] affects anything at all. I think on the road, he’s gotta probably resist temptation. You try not to get yourself into situations where there’s people offering you blow. It’s not like it was 15 years ago. We’re very insular as a band—we go sit in some quiet bar somewhere and watch a baseball game after a gig.”

Thus, like the namesake of the duo’s new album, Ween crawls victoriously out of the apocalyptic wastelands of chemical excess, a proud survivor of the rock wars.

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