Word: weened
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...Dean Ween looked over at the sound man, grinned, and launched into the opening riff. The crowd surged forwards, fists in the air, and Gene began to sing. People were mouthing the words. "Fat Lenny's gonna walk right into mah self...Fat Lenny's gonna lick my head off..." Gene was swaying with the microphone stand. "This a story 'bout mah friend Fat Lenny," he shrieked. Rock 'n' roll glory streamed from his face. The crowd went nuts. We were in the presence of greatness...
...fame, mind you. Not even talent, really, though Gene and Dean are no slouches at the music. Their talent has been subverted to a higher purpose, what Sacvan Berkovitch might call the Myth of Rock. While other bands try purge themselves of the excesses of rock and roll, Ween wallows in inane lyrics and guitar heroism and overblown sound effects. They don't deny that rock is bullshit; their music celebrates it. On vinyl, this means double albums, and songs imitating anyone and everyone: their first album, God Ween Satan--the Oneness, features an eight-minute Prince cover...
...Ween hit the stage Saturday night like arena rock superstars. Two young guys in ratty t-shirts, with a drum machine, acting as if they were our saviors, our idols, the band we'd wanted to see all our lives. And we bought it. People were moshing in a tiny area, sloshing back and forth on top of the crowd. Stage diving. Screaming out requests. Dean and Gene were rocking out. "Man," Dean said, after one of the faster songs. "That was tight...
They have a new album out, Pure Guava, but they weren't pushing it in the song selection. When you have no hits, you can play whatever you want, and they did. There was a ripping version of "You Fucked Up," their anti-love anthem from God Ween Satan. They had a brand-new song, in fake French. Gene crooned it slyly, touching the outstretched arms of the crowd. "Voulezvous...croissant...Schweppes...fuck...
Finally, they put down the guitars and left the stage, and everybody knew what was next. As one, we started stomping our feet and chanting "Ween! Ween! Ween!" I've never been at a concert where everyone wanted the encore so badly. After a few minutes, Gene reappeared, holding his acoustic guitar, and began to play the ballad "Birthday Boy." We were swaying. Somebody held up a lighter. Then Gene stopped. "Shit, I forgot how this part goes. Oh, man." He tried a few chords. "Damn." Somebody from the pit climbed up on stage to help him figure...