Ween released Quebec in August of 2003, when I first worked at Manifest Discs
& Tapes in Greenville, South Carolina. At that time, Manifest’s in-store
music came from a CD player equipped with a one hundred disc carousel
containing a selection of the best recent releases. Usually, managers would
press “random” at the beginning of each shift and we’d start listening to a
newly configured arrangement of those albums. I’ll never forget the feeling of
walking the floor, helping customers, restocking the bins, and alphabetizing
each genre while listening to new albums all the way through. This album played
probably five times before I realized that it wasn’t a compilation of various
artists and when I did, I was shocked to learn that Ween was the band behind all
of these songs.
Quebec snuck up out of nowhere
and suddenly reminded me of the bent, brilliant alchemy at the core of Ween’s
best work. I had listened to some Ween albums with friends over the years, but
I didn’t feel informed enough to consider myself a fan. I can understand very
well why I initially mistook Quebec
for a movie soundtrack or some other kind of compilation looking back at the
three opening songs. The album starts off strong with “It’s Gonna Be a Long
Night,” a hard driving, blues-rock rager containing the inspired threat, “don’t
call your mother - don’t call your priest - don’t call your doctor - call the
police.” Many have heard elements of Motörhead in this song, but upon my first
listen, it called to mind the handiwork of an imaginary supergroup composed of
Jimi Hendrix and Body Count-era Ice-T. Following with a complete change of
pace, tone, and direction comes a dreamy, warped synth-pop bossa nova tribute
to Ween’s antidepressant of choice. Simulating the serene, artificial calm
brought on by SSRIs, “Zoloft” acquaints the audience with Quebec’s mercurial nature. Rounding out the trio of openers, “Transdermal
Celebration” first struck my ears as one of the best Foo Fighters songs I’d
ever heard. I was sure that I was hearing well-produced, radio-ready,
guitar-based alt-rock that would soon be a Top 40 hit. As Quebec progresses, songs begin to fall into more familiar patterns
for Ween by holding down left field novelty territory with “Happy Colored
Marbles” and “Fancy Pants” while exploring the band’s penchant for seemingly
sincere folk-rock and psychedelia in the form of “I Don’t Want It,” “Tried
& True,” and “Captain.” A highlight from the album’s second half, “The
Fucked Jam,” would probably top a number of people’s lists for “most annoying
song ever” with its stop/start gimmick, but for some reason I have grown to
love it. Composed of only a propulsive bass line, a minimalist drum track, and
something that sounds like a small robotic rodent rapping indecipherably, this
song epitomizes Ween’s knack for spinning great songs from unlikely elements on
Quebec.
Ween established a reputation for crafting
unpredictably creative and enjoyably perverse music over seven albums from
1990-2000 and simultaneously locked in a devoted cult following. In the last
fifteen years, Ween has released only two studio albums: Quebec and 2007’s La
Cucaracha. On account of this timing, Quebec
falls outside of the window most listeners consider to be peak Ween, but it
works equally well as an introduction to Ween’s offbeat magic and as a victory
lap for fans more familiar with the albums from the ‘90s. Unlike some of Ween’s
best loved albums like 12 Golden Country
Hits or The Mollusk, Quebec lacks a unifying concept or
stylistic thrust, but more than makes up for it with the range, variety, and
quality of this rewarding collection of songs.
- John Parsell
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