Tag Archives: quebec

#1414: Ween – Tried and True

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Just when Quebec was starting to get some love over here, it comes to a swift end. No more Quebec songs are to appear after this one. There is one on the album that begins with ‘Z’. I like it, but not to the extent that I do all the other tracks I’ve written about. So that’s how it is. Literally wrote about ‘Transdermal Celebration’ the other day, so I’ll spare the whole spiel about my feelings on the LP and its context. On that post, I did say there were five numbers on Quebec that would have had their own posts had the time been right. May as well list them out: ‘Among His Tribe’, ‘Happy Colored Marbles’, ‘Hey There Fancypants’, ‘Chocolate Town’ and ‘The Argus’. Always had a great time with those songs in particular. But as I feel I implied in the last post concerning Quebec, the album as a whole is very special. So we say farewell to it, and its last representative comes in the form of its sixth track, ‘Tried and True’.

At the time of writing this, ‘Tried and True’ is the most-played Quebec song on Spotify with 25+ million streams. A good 11 million more than the next. Not quite sure why that happened. Possibly through various playlist inclusions. I really like ‘Tried and True’ myself, but I wouldn’t say it’s the best song Quebec has to offer. But what I think it provides the people is some very easy listening. You just sit back in your most comfortable chair and let yourself sink into it while this song rides out. It’s helped by the fact that, and I’m pretty sure it’s the case, the band recorded it at a faster speed in its original key of C, before slowing it down to how it is on the album. Why would the band do that, you might ask. It just gives the track a certain character, I think. Makes the track sound a bit more spaced out. Hits some certain frequencies that wouldn’t be possible without the production tricks. And plus, it seems that whenever the band worked with producer Andrew Weiss, speed manipulation was the way to go a lot of the time.

In the live performance below, Gene Ween precedes the song by saying it’s one ‘about space and time’. I can’t really argue with that. I would put forward, there’s definitely something sexual about ‘Tried and True’ too. Is that fair to say? There’s certainly some double entendres that support that theory. “I woke, I was alone… rising”. “Rising” could refer to the physical act of getting out of bed or a classic case of morning wood. Then I’d say the song is about waking up with very strong blood flow and feeling untouchable, with a heavily cosmic spin put on it via the lyrics, reinforced by the electric sitar, the pulsating keyboards and floaty background vocals that come in nearing the song’s end. But I may also be completely wrong on that front. It also contains the cheekiest play on words with the “Could you smell my whole… life?” lyric. I tell you, I sung that out loud in front of my sister one time. She looked at me for a second during that pause between “whole” and “life” before I completed the lyric myself. And that was when I should maybe only reserve audible singing for times when there’s no one else in the room.

#1412: Ween – Transdermal Celebration

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Only the second song from Ween’s Quebec I’ll be writing about on here. I tell you, in another time, there’d be many more Ween songs covered on this blog in general. But when it comes to Quebec, there are about five others on that album that would have definitely had their own posts, had I been aware of the album’s existence before 2013. The band’s eighth album, released in August 2003, is my favourite of the band’s. For a while, it was firmly The Mollusk, which I think is a common feeling among the people. But as I’ve got older and had my moments of sadness and reflection, settling into the person I am, Quebec is at that point where it resonates with me a lot more than it initially did. The album deals with issues, so much so that the album was jokingly referred to as “Aaron Freeman’s Issues” during its making. One of those issues covered on the album is that of drugs, and that is all over its third track, ‘Transdermal Celebration’.

After the Motorhead-esque opener in ‘It’s Gonna Be a Long Night’ and elevator muzak take of ‘Zoloft’, ‘Transdermal…’ comes in as the big “alt-rock” number to push the album along further. I did think it was a rip on Foo Fighters in the first few months of knowing it. It probably isn’t. But I still think Gene Ween’s vocals sound like Dave Grohl’s in ‘Learn to Fly’. All that’s neither here nor there. Webster’s definition of ‘transdermal’ is as follows: “relating to, being, or supplying a medication in a form for absorption through the skin into the bloodstream”. A lot of other things, not so much ‘medication’, can be taken in the same way. But we’ll say it’s about medication just for this, with the verses depicting the various visions and metaphorical effects on the body the narrator experiences while on it. The storming verses then come down into the swaying, calmer choruses, which change the perspective, looking on at the narrator who lies comatose on their lawn while all these hallucinations are happening in their head. Not to reduce the song to “It’s just about drugs, man”, but knowing Ween… it’s very likely that it is.

I think people who know ‘Transdermal…’ all have an aligned understanding that it’s pretty much amazing. If it is about drug visions and out-of-this-world hallucinations that sound great on the surface, I also appreciate the depiction of the scary point-of-no-return moment in the final line of the last verse, “But where is the mutation that once told me it was safe? / I can’t find him” – which also sounds like “Fucking find him”, and I don’t think that’s unintentional. While on the front acting as a celebration, there’s a warning inside too, which goes hand-in-hand with the “Everything’s okay on the outside, but inside there’s insecurity” theme (or something better-worded but along those lines) that shows up throughout the album. There’s a great story about how the fantastic guitar solo was recorded. It involves Dean Ween and the gear and equipment of the legendary guitarist Carlos Santana. It’s better to read it from Dean Ween’s point of view. And here’s Santana playing live the morning after.

#570: Ween – I Don’t Want It

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I was about 18 when I listened to The Mollusk for the first time when looking for new music to get into. That album was released in 1997 so it’s not new by any means, but you know looking out for stuff that I’d just never heard before. I got to love that album but then I never thought about really digging into the rest of the band’s discography.

Fast forward to 2015. Twenty years old, just started a new job for my placement year. Things are going good. I was at home just chilling in the evening as you do before going to work again the next day and out of curiosity I decided to listen to GodWeenSatan: The Oneness on Spotify…… There was no turning back. I dove deeper into the hole that had opened beyond my ears. I’ve been properly listening to Ween for just over two years now, and I am convinced that they might be the greatest band on this planet. No one really knows it though.

And so, the first Ween song I’m able to cover is ‘I Don’t Want It’, the tenth song on the group’s 2003 album Quebec. The album arrived at the end of a dark period during the band’s original run in which drummer Claude Coleman almost died in a severe car accident and lead vocalist Aaron Freeman (Gene Ween) going through a crummy divorce. ‘I Don’t Want It’ is the song about that crummy divorce and depicts Freeman’s feelings about the whole situation. It’s a sad song, to put it straight, perfectly capturing the moment of realisation when a breaking relationship has come to an end. It’s obviously for the best, though the love is still there that you don’t want to let go.

For the most part the track is played straight. Verse, chorus, verse, chorus. Things slow down afterwards, a short break occurs, and then suddenly a burst of guitar feedback kicks in leading into one of the most glorious guitar solos I’ve heard, drowning out almost every other instrument, echoing into the abyss and backed by some heavenly ‘aah’ vocals. For a time I did think it was lead guitarist Mickey Melchiondo (Dean Ween) doing this solo. Why not? If there’s a solo in any other Ween song, it’s usually him who pulls them off. Then it dawned on me that it could possibly be Freeman himself… Turned out that it was, which made it all the more powerful and heartbreaking to me. It’s perfect.