As Clinch describes it, he was happy to follow the duo’s lead:
They basically gave me a tour of what they did all the time in their free time out there, and a lot of it was obviously music and fishing. So they took me on this little motorboat. I just threw all my gear in the boat and they went out and they were like, “Oh, we catch all sorts of fish out here. We’ll have such a great time!” And throughout the whole day, we didn’t catch anything and finally we caught this little perch or something. It was classic. But you know, to spend the day with those guys fishing was just a blast.
Melchiondo contradicts Clinch’s account, claiming to have caught “something like 100 fish” during the shoot, but nevertheless, the fishing photos introduced a theme that would become a crucial aspect of Ween lore. In the years since Chocolate and Cheese, Melchiondo has been very vocal about his love for the sport, and today he oversees both a fishing tour-guide service and an online fishing program, Brownie Troop, F.S., which chronicles his expeditions around the New Hope area and beyond. “I remember that time being when Mickey had really started into his life passion of fishing,” says Freeman. “He had bought some crappy boat and was constantly fishing smallmouth bass out of the Delaware river.” When describing his favorite type of fishing (surf fishing) in a 2008 Jersey Beat interview, Melchiondo replied, “I find it to be the most relaxing and rewarding thing on earth, bordering on spiritual.” The fishing photos inside Chocolate and Cheese definitely jibe with this description. Freeman and Melchiondo have often opted for comedy in their press photos and videos, striking goofy poses or otherwise clowning, but in Clinch’s fishing portraits they each appear to be relishing a quiet, contemplative moment in the wilderness.
The waterfall photo is more lighthearted, with Freeman mugging and Melchiondo flashing a huge grin. Like the fishing portraits, though, it serves to flaunt the natural beauty of Ween’s Bucks County home base. “We went up to this place called Ringing Rocks, which is, like, a state park way upriver here from New Hope on the Delaware, and there was a waterfall in that park,” explains Melchiondo. “[Danny] had taken like 8 million photographs of us, and we stood under the waterfall and he snapped a Polaroid of it and we ended up using the Polaroid. Of all the thousands of pictures that he took, he had to keep the little negative from the Polaroid, and we used that on the CD and on the poster.” Clinch credits the medium for the shot’s casual feel. “Oftentimes when you’re shooting a Polaroid, I find as a photographer that I tell [my subjects], ‘Oh, this is just a Polaroid,’ and they’re like, ‘Oh, it’s a Polaroid, it doesn’t really matter,’” he says. “And then they’re more relaxed or they’ll joke around or they’ll be like, ‘If I do this, I’ll be able to see it in 30 seconds,’ and they’ll do something silly. So it’s a good tool for that.” Freeman deems the shot “one of the best pictures of Ween ever taken” and points out that a poster of the image still hangs in the New Hope nightclub John and Peter’s.
Taken together, the fishing photos and the Ringing Rocks portrait represent an important step away from the band’s self-presentation during the Pure Guava period. The inner sleeve of that album contains an arresting fold-out full-color portrait of Freeman, Melchiondo and a motley assortment of friends and associates on the porch of Freeman’s residence at the time, the pastoral Brookridge Farm. The tableaux teems with odd activity: A pregnant woman holds her belly with one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other; a burly, bearded man clutches a plastic baby doll; on the far right stands future Ween drummer Claude Coleman, propping himself up with a garden hoe; from the balcony hangs a crumpled American flag. The rest of the shot is filled out with all manner of punks and neohippies. Overall the photo imparts a decadent and idyllic vibe, illustrating a commune built around drugs, booze and general abandon. Freeman and Melchiondo are present in the photo, but they’re in no way featured — they come off as just two more chilled-out revelers.
The clear message here is that at this time, there was no dividing line between life and art for the brothers Ween. You can picture the pair getting high and recording a few songs on the 4-track, before making their way out to the porch to rejoin the perpetual party. Freeman’s firsthand account confirms this impression:
I had moved to a large farmhouse called Brookridge Farm with a couple buddies of mine. It was on endless acres of beautiful Lambertville countryside and I had my own floor of the place. I remember having a 4-track set up there in my room and recording constantly. This is where most of Chocolate and Cheese was written. The farmhouse was always host to a flux of girlfriends, musicians, drugs, etc. It was an incredible place to be in your early twenties and was never short of inspiration. I did a lot of kissing, dancing and vomiting in those days. It was awesome.
However, things were changing for the band during the Chocolate and Cheese era. In setting up shop in a rented space and re-recording material originally mocked-up at home on the 4-track, Freeman and Melchiondo embraced a new kind of professionalism. A project that once seemed like a direct reflection of Freeman and Melchiondo’s earthy, hard-partying lifestyle — which, as the Pure Guava photo suggests, remained the norm even after they had landed a major-label deal — gradually became something more sequestered. This, it seems, was the trade-off Ween had to accept in order to move beyond their charming yet rudimentary early work. An upgrade in method meant both a step out into the world, toward a more tidy, accessible sound, and a step away from Ween’s core community. It may seem overanalytical, but it’s hard not to read the difference between the crowded, colorful shot in Pure Guava and the austere, solitary, black-and-white portraits in Chocolate and Cheese as the difference between early and mid-period Ween — a pictorial illustration of the band’s budding maturity. Ween, in other words, was becoming a career as opposed to a pastime.
Thankfully, as we’ve seen, Ween’s evolution was both subtle and gradual. Chocolate and Cheese is no tedious “grown-up” statement; it features moments that are every bit as challenging and disturbing as Ween’s brownest 4-track-era material.
As if to drive this point home, the Chocolate and Cheese package includes one unequivocal curveball. On the CD face, laid over a puke-green background, is a drawing of a hand with an extended middle finger — a graphic that, according to Dave Ayers, adorned the band’s backstage laminates for some time. It’s tempting to read the image any number of ways: as a we’re-still-here “fuck you” to those who had underestimated Ween upon their initial MTV emergence, or as a knock against those who might consider Chocolate and Cheese’s slicker sound quality as a sell-out. But when asked about it, Melchiondo quickly dismisses the idea that the middle finger is targeted at anyone in particular. “Yeah, not a lot of thought went into that kind of stuff,” he says. “It’s like, ‘What do we put on the disc?’ I guess it’s just punk rock or something. It doesn’t really have a lot of meaning — it’s just ‘Fuck you,’ you know? There’s not a lot of ways to really interpret it.” Chuckling, he continues, “A good part of Ween’s philosophy is ‘Fuck you,’ you know? Any good band, that should comprise a bit of the message.”
Outro
“The hardest thing to get”:
Ween’s autonomy
In a strict sense, Butthead was dead wrong when he prophesied that Ween had no future, but in another way, maybe he wasn’t so off-base. After all, the Gene and Dean Ween of Pure Guava — postadolescent stoners crouched over their 4-track — did, in fact, have to go. Ween fans (not to mention Melchiondo himself) may have grown attached to the band’s underdog charm, but in order to progress, to let their increasingly accomplished material really shine, the brothers Ween had to shed some of their DIY values. It was time, in other words, for the scribbles to become paintings. On Chocolate and Cheese, Ween took their first crucial steps in that direction.
This evolution has served the band well. Since Chocolate and Cheese, some fans have grumbled at their heroes’ increasingly hi-fi production — recall the snide “Did they hire a producer or something?” YouTube comment
regarding a Quebec track — but on the whole, Melchiondo’s concern that the post-Pure Guava material just wasn’t “gnarly enough” compared to their previous work proved to be unfounded. After Chocolate and Cheese, Ween’s following continued to snowball, eventually growing to the point where they didn’t really need the clout of a major label anymore.
In the years since 1994, Ween has kept busy recording, touring, refining their sound and cultivating their fan base. Meanwhile, many of the forces that helped to propel Ween into their own version of the limelight have gone extinct: Beavis and Butthead and Elektra Records — both have since been revived, though with severely reduced pop-cultural capital — as well as the thriving major-label record business at large, an MTV that catered in any way to offbeat musical tastes and an “alternative” genre that received strong radio support and presented a meaningful response to classic rock.
In fact, it now seems miraculous that a band as strange as Ween persisted on a major label for the better part of a decade and garnered such a devoted following. Ween signifies a time when homegrown idiosyncrasy — specifically, a project that started simply because two eighth-grade pals discovered that they loved to hear themselves on tape — could flourish in close proximity to the mainstream. To Melchiondo, this early-’90s utopia seems like an eternity ago:
It was the only period of time where a band like Ween could have gotten signed to a label like Elektra. Then, Ween was still having a chance of being played on the radio and played on MTV. We don’t have that chance anymore. To hear Ween on the radio when that record came out wasn’t any different than hearing Nirvana or the Pixies or the Breeders. That kind of shit wasn’t on the radio a few years before that and not much longer after. Now alternative rock is a joke; it’s a sound. There was a lot of shit that was popular, which up until that point would’ve been very weird.
Yet Melchiondo doesn’t regret the passing of the era in the slightest. After the Elektra years, Ween had the good sense to pull up stakes:
We got rid of our lawyer, got rid of our publishing and we started working with what we had. Ween has always had the one thing that’s the hardest thing to get: a legion of die-hard fans that come to every single show, know every single word, buy every single shirt. It’s more important than having one record that sells a million copies and then another one that sells 70. We’ll always have a career if we want. No one ever focused on that. “You gotta get us a single.” “This shitty band wants you to open for them, and you should do it because it’s a lot of exposure for you guys.” I was like, “Well, fuck that. We’ll go play for three and a half hours to our fans.”
He’s speaking of an artistic ideal, the freedom to secede from the music industry at large, and commune directly with one’s supporters. As labels and corporations fall all over themselves to sew up the digital music market, contemporary artists would do well to strive for this kind of autonomy.
As for Chocolate and Cheese itself, it’s not the type of record that spawns legions of imitators. Its importance lies in its essential lesson: Be as weird as you want, but work hard and make the final product presentable. Any artist in any medium operating at the purely recreational, anything-goes level at which Freeman and Melchiondo began could benefit from this wisdom. Taken as a whole, Ween’s discography proves that you can evolve without selling out. The trick is to build a bridge from your own insular playhouse to the world at large, to groom your work just enough that it translates — in short, to make a Chocolate and Cheese.
Interviews
Unless otherwise specified, all interviews were conducted by the author between June 2009 and August 2010.
Mickey Melchiondo — Dean Ween: in person, phone
Aaron Freeman — Gene Ween: e-mail, phone12
Andrew Weiss — Ween’s longtime producer: in person
Steve Ralbovsky — Elektra A&R representative, responsible for Ween’s signing: phone
Greg Frey — Ween’s current manager, engineer for two Chocolate and Cheese tracks: phone
Dave Ayers — Ween’s manager before, during and after Chocolate and Cheese: in person
Claude Coleman, Jr. — drummer on Chocolate and Cheese and in Ween’s current live band: phone
Stephan Said — auxiliary musician on Chocolate and Cheese: phone
Mean Ween — childhood friend of Freeman and Melchiondo, vocalist and lyricist on “Candi”: e-mail
Pat Frey — drummer on “Baby Bitch” and current director of Ween’s merchandising and online message board: phone
Ed Wilson — Freeman and Melchiondo’s informal guitar teacher during Chocolate and Cheese era, cowriter of “Freedom of ’76”: phone
Scott Lowe — childhood friend of Freeman and Melchiondo, background vocalist and vocal arranger on Chocolate and Cheese: e-mail, phone
John Kuczala — Chocolate and Cheese cover photographer: phone
Roger Gorman — Chocolate and Cheese cover designer: phone
Rick Patrick — Chocolate and Cheese cover designer: phone
Marty Sarandria — metalwork on Boognish belt: phone
Danny Clinch — Chocolate and Cheese inside-cover photographer: phone
Mark Hamilton — member of the band Ash, which has covered “What Deaner Was Talkin’ About”: phone
Josh Homme — friend, Ween label- and tourmate during Chocolate and Cheese era: phone
Matt Sweeney — friend, Ween label- and billmate during the God Ween Satan era: e-mail
Spike Jonze — “Freedom of ’76” video director: phone
Chris Applebaum — “I Can’t Put My Finger On It” video director: phone
Roman Coppola — “Voodoo Lady” video director: phone
Other sources
Articles
Ankeny, Jason. “Ween: Biography.” AllMusic.com. Online: http://allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=11:09foxqe5ldse~T1
De Luca, Dan. “Cock(Roach) Rock.” Harp; December, 2007.
Edmondson, Jennifer. “In My Room: Ween.” Spin; January, 2008. Online: http://www.spin.com/articles/my-room-ween Erlewine, Stephen Thomas. “12 Golden Country Greats: Review.” AllMusic.com. Online: http://allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:fzfuxqyhldte
Gonzales, Matt. “Taste the Waste: A Conversation with Gene
Ween.” PopMatters; August 19, 2003. Online: http://www.popmatters.com/music/interviews/ween-030819.shtml
Joost, Wesley. “Shit Howdy Stranger, Mosey On Down An’ Chaw Some Ween.” Goblin Magazine, Issue 8; 12 Golden Country Greats era. Online: http://sonic.net/~goblin/8ween.html
Kenny, Glenn. Pure Guava review. Spin; December, 1992.
Lingan, John. “Ween Is No Joke.” Splice Today; July 21, 2009. Online: http://www.splicetoday.com/music/ween-is-no-joke
McLeod, Kembrew. White Pepper review. Rolling Stone; May 11, 2000.
Melchiondo, Mickey. “The Mollusk Sessions.” Ween.com. Online: http://bbs.bunglefever.com/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=45561
Pareles, Jon. “Grinning Mischief-Makers Breaking Country Rules.” New York Times; July 23, 1996. Online: http://www.nytimes.com/1996/07/23/arts/pop-review-grinning-mischeif-makers-breaking-country-rules.html
Pareles, Jon. “Low-Fi Rockers.” New York Times; April 11, 1993. Online: http://www.nytimes.com/1993/04/11/style/low-fi-rockers.html
Sanneh, Kelefa. “Long Night for Swashbucklers in Uncharted Territory.” New York Times; December 3, 2007. Online: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/03/arts/music/03ween.html
Smith, Andrew. “Cover Story: Trey Anastasio.” Big Heavy World; March 1, 1998. Online: http://bigheavyworld.com/tunk/?p=863
SongMeanings.net Sutton, Terri. Chocolate and Cheese review. Spin; October, 1994.
Testa, Jim. “Mickey Ween Goes Fishing.” Jersey Beat; December 3, 2009.
Valania, Jonathan. “Family Ties.” Magnet Magazine; August/September, 2000. Online [excerpt]: http://www.drzoltan.com/ween-signed-to-elektra-records
Walters, Barry. White Pepper review. Entertainment Weekly; June 2, 2000. Online: http://www.ew.co
m/ew/article/0,,20233168,00.html
Ween forum (http://weendotnetforum16662.yuku.com)
Ween Machine forum (http://weenmachine.tribe.net)
Videos
“Peter Austin Noto Seinfeld Spoof on SNL” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXGZe0Ydsr4
“Ween — ‘Freedom of ’76,’ Jane Pratt Show, 1993” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzYykIA1xVg
“Ween on The Week in Rock (Feb 1993)” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GqzCT5pzBRA
Above: On the set of the “Push th’ Little Daisies” video. Freeman: far right; Melchiondo: second from right.
Right and below: Ween in the duo years, maximizing their brownness.
Above: “Spinal Meningitis” lyric sheet.
Below: “Baby Bitch” lyric sheet.
Above: “Baby Bitch” track sheet from Graphic Sound Studio.
Left: With Mohamed on the set of the “I Can’t Put My Finger On It” video.
Above: Fan-made Boognish belts.
Below: Still from the Live in Chicago DVD: Ween’s current quintet lineup live in November, 2003.
Above: Pure Guava insert: at Brookridge Farm. Freeman: fifth from left on balcony; Melchiondo: fifth from right on porch.
Right: Chocolate and Cheese insert portrait (bottom right) and outtakes: at Ringing Rocks.
Left and below: Chocolate and Cheese insert portraits and outtakes.
Credits Figures 1–10: courtesy of Ween
Figure 11: Ole Lütjens 2010
Figure 12: Tom Nichols
Figures 13–15: Danny Clinch
Also available in the series:
1. Dusty in Memphis by Warren Zanes
2. Forever Changes by Andrew Hultkrans
Ween's Chocolate and Cheese (33 1/3) Page 12