A deliberately frothy take on an under-documented moment in US politics
[a]Ween[/a] have once again conquered - not that anyone had expected any less...
There is also no denying that the group is in top form, despite the perennially bad sound at Toronto's Warehouse. The three-hour, 30-song set would leave other acts crippled, yet this duo merrily weaves through its entire catalogue - from 1990's 'GodWeenSatan' to the newest, 'White Pepper' - with nary a complaint or an intermission.
A safe, disarming version of 'What Deaner Was Talkin' About' opens the show, no doubt allowing the mixing bloke to fine-tune the cavernous sound. But at Gene's behest, the volume is suddenly cranked up another five notches. Unaffected by the din, the two Weens deftly lead their incredibly tight band through countless, diverse tracks. Gene's Jekyll and Hyde voice is as versatile as ever, while Dean's army of guitar effects is both deafening and scary.
There are too many musical left turns to mention. Dry ice-drenched prog epics 'Buckingham Green' and 'Don't Get 2 Close (2 My Fantasy)' contrast with quirky ditties like 'HIV', 'Reggaejunkiejew' and 'Mister, Would You Please Help My Pony'. Not to let anyone off easily, Ween also throw in numerous heavy thumpers, such as 'Dr. Rock', 'Awesome Sound' and 'You Fucked Up'. There are even a couple semi-hits - 'Push th' Little Daisies' and 'Piss Up A Rope' - for any non-diehards that might inexplicably be in attendance.
It's a seemingly endless set - the encores alone take almost an hour - but Gene finally bows out during the fiery Let Me Lick Your Pussy. Like true warriors, the rest of the band plays on, taking extended solos (including a scary vocoder exercise by Dean). When the 2,000 exhausted yet satisfied fans finally exit, only the bootleggers are still complaining about the shoddy acoustics. Ween have once again conquered - not that anyone had expected any less.
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