Proponents of Ween typically offer two arguments in the face of detractors: 1) The band deserves to be taken more seriously because they're ridiculously proficient musicians; or 2) The band shouldn't be taken so seriously, so loosen up and enjoy the ride. In most cases at least one of these defenses is plausible, though neither addresses the main issue that irks so many first-time Ween listeners: How can they so capriciously genre-hop, throw their voices and, worst of all, mar their virtuosity with lyrics about spinal meningitis and scatology? Unfortunately, Ween's newest release, the Friends EP, will certainly perpetuate all these qualms, especially once people realize it's a five-song mini-narrative ending with a ballad about guy-on-guy fellatio.
Fact is, in the post-mash-up era of 2 Many DJs, Girl Talk, et. al., Ween's unpredictable, Janus-faced albums are easier to digest. As long as they're copping a genre people generally enjoy without relying too heavily on f-bombs or fart jokes, they should be fair game. Friends, however, tests these limits more than any Ween release in recent memory. An appetizer for the band's fall 2007 LP-- their first in four years-- this record lacks a single guitar-driven rock song, instead spoofing saccharine dance-pop and exotic tropical genres. Throw in the rainbow-colored packaging and Ween's completely gone from Pink Floyd to pink triangle here, penning the soundtrack to a-- hee-hee-- homoerotic one-night stand that thumbs its nose at the band's recent albums steeped in classic rock.
The eponymous opener sets the tone pretty bluntly, harkening back to dreaded dance-pop phenomena like "The Macarena" or "Numa Numa Dance." Although standout track "I Got to Put the Hammer Down" tries to right the ship with a blistering synth line and prickly drum machine more closely related to CSS than the Venga Boys, the song's two-and-a-half minutes fails to stave off the EP's remaining kitsch. And then there's the Caribbean flotsam "King Billy", a reggae-tinged slow-burner that takes six minutes to go nowhere, reeking of something scraped off of Jimmy Buffet's poop deck.
At a standard level of good humor, one can easily enjoy the closing duo of "Light Me Up" and "Slow Down Boy", two commonplace but well-executed stabs at genre co-option for Ween. I bet you don't even pick up one on the latter's naughty chorus ("Slow down boy...lay back and let him blow you away") amidst the catchy faux-Orange Juice balladry. Still, Ween's tongue fares just as well hanging out the mouth as implanted in the cheek, and any release completely bereft of their hardcore and classic rock roots feels like a rip-off. Fortunately none of these tracks will appear on their upcoming full-length, so let's laugh at the novelty of these knuckleheads making a cheesy barbeque soundtrack and hope Friends is only one bizarre pitstop along Ween's continuing quest for hallowed (read: serious) rock and roll buffoonery.
