(2010.08.28) Ween @ Stubb's, Austin

OK, its been 5-6 weeks since this show. I've been busy as hell, and really I don't know what more I could write about Ween that I haven't already written. The Boys of Boognish once again plowed through Stubb's, and as always left the place in gloriously euphoric shambles. I know I'm totally phoning this one in, but I have to at least note the setlist, for posterity.

01. HIV Song

02. The Golden Eel

03. Baby Bitch

04. Bananas And Blow

05. Piss Up A Rope

06. Learnin' To Love

07. My Own Bare Hands

08. Take Me Away

09. Transdermal Celebration

10. Gabrielle

11. Stroker Ace

12. Voodoo Lady (Prince's Kiss in the middle)

13. Mutilated Lips

14. Buckingham Green

15. Booze Me Up And Get Me High

16. Touch My Tooter

17. Mr. Richard Smoker

18. I'll Be Your Johnny On The Spot

19. Even If You Don't

20. Freedom Of '76 (w/ Sarah Jones)

21. Let's Dance (David Bowie cover)

22. Your Party

23. Woman And Man

24. The Mollusk

25. Spinal Meningitis

(break)

26. Fiesta

27. Sorry Charlie

28. Ohio (Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young cover)

29. Roses Are Free

Damn good set. I mean DAMN good set. I found the David Bowie cover to be pretty lame, but aside from that the main set was just about as perfect as it could be. I was a little down on the encore though, it didn't really blow me away. "Roses Are Free" is a fantastic song, but I would have preferred a more epic closer, like what they usually deliver.

Great show though. Can't wait until my next Ween encounter.

Again, apologies for the total lack of effort on this one, I just don't have it in me right now.

(2010.08.18) Rodrigo Y Gabriela @ The Greek Theatre, L.A.

OK, the relevance of this post is thinning out with each passing day, particularly because I'm seeing these guys again tomorrow night at Stubb's in Austin. There's been so much going on this summer that reviews have firmly taken a back seat. So, let's crank this thing out.

The wife and kids and I took a trip to Los Angeles for my birthday a couple weeks ago. As luck would have it, the maniacal acoustic duo of Rodrigo Y Gabriela happened to be playing the Greek Theatre our first night there. We had become fairly big fans with their 2006 self-titled debut album, and since the release of 2009's magnificent follow-up 11:11, I had been practically foaming at the mouth to see them live. We enlisted my wife's brother and his friend to hit the show with us. After a healthy helping of Maker's Mark and Coke to shake off the long day of flight-hopping and child-wrangling, we headed out into the perfect, cool Southern California evening and made our way to the venue.

After snagging a couple drinks and a bottle of wine (seriously, ladies?) from the concession, we sought out our seats and took stock of the venue. I had heard of the Greek Theatre before, but had never been there. It was very nice, nestled within the trees on a bit of a hill. Comparing it to other legendary outdoor venues, it had a serene coziness about it, rather than the awesome majesty of Red Rocks or the sweaty, dripping funk of character of Stubb's. The trees surrounding all sides of the theater gave it a sense of peaceful isolation, which complemented the cool night air very nicely.

Anyway, after an opener that I didn't really pay much attention to, Rodrigo and Gabriela slipped in from the sides, strapped up, and went to work. Here's the set:

01. Intro (Very similar to the "OK Tokyo" intro from the Live In Japan Album)

02. Hanuman

03. Triveni (Impromptu jamming by Gab while Rod replaced a broken string)

04. Diablo Rojo

05. Satori

06. Logos/Santo Domingo

07. Chac Mool/Hora Zero

08. Gabriela Solo

09. Juan Loco

10. Orion (with Shankar and Trujillo)

11. Volcano Jam (with Shankar and Trujillo)

12. Rodrigo Solo (Pulling Teeth!!!)

13. Savitri

14. Mediterranean Sundance (Al di Meola Solo/Jamming)

15. Tamacun

(break)

16. Buster Voodoo

As hoped, this show completely blew me away! Listening to their albums, you obviously get a good sense of RyG's technical proficiency, but seeing them live is a total shock to the system. The awe I experience listening to their material is now trumped only by my eyes' complete disbelief while actually seeing it happen in front of me. Rodrigo's fingers fly across the frets of his guitar like some deranged, frantic crab on crystal meth. One moment he's delicately plucking out a slow, isolated, moody melody, and the next he's shredding through some 100mph arpeggio-laden riffage that I can hardly keep up with. And Gabriela, I don't even know how to describe what she's doing, it makes absolutely no sense. When I first heard RyG, and particularly after hearing their second album, I figured there HAD to be some third person in there, lending a hand with the percussive elements. Nope. Nyet. Nuh-uh. All while ripping through those head-spinning rhythms, in those fractions of fractions of seconds between striking one string and striking another, she's absolutely beating the hell out of the body of her guitar with her thumb, pinky, and whatever other part of her hand that happens to be free. Who needs a drummer when you can just shatter the laws of physics? It was utterly jaw-dropping, my brain still hurts to think about it.

In total, they played for right around two hours, maybe a little more. The set was very comprehensive, covering probably about 75% of their studio work. Their original material was more often than not performed pretty true to the original recording, though they did manage to work some mid-number jamming in here and there (particularly when Rodrigo broke a string during "Triveni" not long into the show; apparently he was just as excited about this show as I was!). They did throw me for a big loop by sliding from "Chac Mool" into "Hora Zero" instead of "Atman". While I do love "Hora Zero" and the intro worked very well, it did put an exclamation point on what I thought was the only downer of the show: they did NOT play "Atman"!! This bummed me out because its pretty easily my favorite RyG song, and quite frankly I was a bit shocked at the omission of what I consider to be the best song they've written yet. But no matter, in general the show kicked way too much ass to dwell on this one detail.

In addition to their own original studio material, the show was loaded with all kinds of other surprises. Shankar and Robert Trujillo joined the duo to perform "Orion" (in its entirety!), which led into a fairly lengthy jam session, which ultimately ended with Shankar wailing incomprehensibly into the microphone. It was a bit tedious toward the end once Shankar started up with the vocals (Note: a RyG show should NEVER include vocals), but overall it was interesting enough. And toward the end of the show, guitar legend Al Di Meola made a special appearance. RyG gave up the spotlight and watched like kids in a toy store as Di Meola picked his way through a winding 10-minute-or-so rendition of Mediterranean Sundance, after which the duo joined in for some 3-guitar jamming madness. While I myself am not that familiar with Di Meola, the obvious excitement radiating from Rodrigo and Gabriela at this chance to play with one of their idols was infectious, and really made for a special moment. And as always, both Rodrigo and Gabriela got an opportunity for some solo jamming. Gabriela dazzled the crowd with some Les-Claypool-on-speed rhythm funkiness. Rodrigo on the other hand, played around with a beautiful slower melody, carefully plucking out and slightly varying the same repeated tune for a couple minutes, before launching into my highlight of the night: a full-on performance of Metallica's "Pulling Teeth"!!! I absolutely lost it at this point, leaping to my feet and screaming "Pulling Teeth?! Are you f%$&ing kidding me??!!!" Which was a bit awkward seeing as the whole theater was in a seated, restful state at the moment. (I saw about 4 other people in attendance who shared my incredulous excitement). Anyway, Rodrigo absolutely slayed it, and I loved every second of it.

Not to be lost in the glory of the setlist and the enthusiasm of the performance, the presentation of the show was exceptionally well done. Sonically, it was flawless. The deeper tones of the rhythm and the higher lead notes were all pristine, and bounced warmly around the venue. Gabriela's unconventional percussive elements were also nicely captured, lending support to the rhythm without overtaking it. Visually, I was pleasantly surprised how much the show had to offer. On either side of the stage was a large video monitor, which would alternate between close-ups of the performers. (It still didn't help me figure out how the hell Gab does what she does, if anything it just pushed my brain further over the edge). At the back of the stage was a translucent back-drop, used for projection. For the most part, the images they projected up were static, and would be up for a few songs at a time. But, at a couple points in the show they would project up there the same video image that was on the video monitors, except that it would be more fuzzy and grayed out. The effect was incredible, nothing cooler than normal life-size Rodrigo laying into a solo in front of gigantic 25-foot-tall Rodrigo.

Anyway, the show was every bit as enjoyable as I hoped it would be, and then some. I'll definitely try to see these guys whenever they come to town. Wait a minute, that's tomorrow. Oh yeah, here we go!!

Two Years

Two years ago today, I had to choose between this:


and this:


Naturally, I went with the better hair.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Leili!!!

Worst. Jersey. Ever.

Last week I played in a hockey tournament here in Austin, and part of the registration fee covered jerseys for the team. I'm always down for a new jersey, especially when its supposed to look pretty cool, like this:

The week before the tournament, however, we got word that the lead time on the jerseys was several weeks, so we wouldn't be able to get the cool jerseys in time. Instead, the owner of the rink would have to improvise. I figured whatever, a jersey is a jersey.

Little did I know how horribly, horribly wrong things could go.

As a Red Wings fan, there is one team above all others that I absolutely detest: the Colorado Avalanche. The Wings/Avalanche rivalry was the best in all of pro sports for about a decade. Blood was shed, punches were thrown, feelings were hurt, etc. More often than not, the road to the Stanley Cup went through either Denver or Detroit. And through all this, there was one man, one gutless, turtling, sucker-punching, cheap-shot artist that was hated more than any other: Claude Lemieux, #22. To this day, I hate him more than any other professional athlete ever. If I heard he had been hit by a bus, I'd probably just say "Huh...how about that", and then casually change the channel and move on with my life.

So, imagine my extreme displeasure last Friday night when, minutes before our first tournament game, I was handed THIS:

(An Avalanche jersey??? Could this get any worse???)

(Yup, its worse.)

I typically prefer to keep explicit profanity out of my blog posts....but this is bullshit.

As it turned out, during that first game I was so distraught by what was on the front of my jersey that I failed to realize the full impact of what was on the back. It wasn't until that night, as I was drifting off to sleep, that the horrific realization that I was essentially wearing not just an Avalanche jersey, but a CLAUDE LEMIEUX JERSEY, tore through my mind like a wrecking ball of shame. All I could imagine was the look of disappointment in the faces of my friends and family back home when they learned of such treason. It wasn't exactly a great night of sleep.

Thankfully, the tournament is over now and I have no obligation to ever again let that atrocity of a game sweater see the light of day. But as long as that thing remains intact, I just feel dirty. Sara and I have occasionally talked about getting one of those fire-pit table things for our back deck. If we ever do, I'll be putting on my ol' Dino Ciccarelli sweater and having myself a jersey burning party.....

The Albums Of 2009

Seeing as we're mostly through January already, I figured I better get my 2009 album list out before its completely irrelevant. Once again, I've continued the disturbing trend of buying fewer albums, this year reaching an abysmal 13 albums, plus one EP and one live DVD. I wasn't able to get to as many individual album reviews as I would have liked, which is unfortunate, for what 2009 may have lacked in quantity it surely made a noble effort to make up for in quality. Not to say the year was completely devoid of disappointment, certainly I found some of the albums a little frustrating. But overall, this year's list tends to skew toward the better. At their best, these albums represent monumental career achievements, but moments of brilliance can be found even at the bottom of this barrel.

1. Between The Buried And Me - The Great Misdirect: When BTBAM dropped Colors on us two years ago, I firmly believed a better album could not be written. Lo and behold, then came along The Great Misdirect, and all my assumptions about the universe were called into question. This is an unfathomably good album, displaying a further developed sense of maturity and experimentation fused with BTBAM's classic progressive metal chops. I've already written up a full review, so I won't go any further except to say that, three months after its release, I'm still having a tough time NOT listening to this album at every given opportunity.
2. Isis - Wavering Radiant: Until The Great Misdirect came along in October, this album was firmly holding on to the #1 spot in my tentative "albums of the year" list. On Wavering Radiant, Isis continues to show further improvement in song craftmanship that began with their previous release In The Absence Of Truth. Whereas on the older albums Isis relied primarily on either stark loud-quiet-loud dynamic or slow build-up with a single monolithic climax, they have finally begun to figure out how to "play in the middle". The songs tend to find a groove and work within it, finding smoother transitions to moments of texture or ferocity. The result is a collection of songs that somehow feel simultaneously fluid and structured, weaving from one brilliant moment to another.
3. Rodrigo Y Gabriela - 11:11: This duo blew me away with their self-titled debut effort, a relentless instrumental juggernaut of dueling accoustic guitar, executed to perfection. What remained to be seen was if they could avoid being so one-dimensional on their follow-up. On 11:11, Rodrigo Y Gabriela take a fantastic step forward. The overall pace is slowed down just a touch, and the songs are given a bit more time to breathe and develop. The instantly catchy melodies are still there, but are woven together in a bit more of a cohesive fashion, with careful consideration of transition. R&G also add a bit more flair on the production side as well, adding a few effects here and there, giving the material more depth. This all results in a sense of maturity about the album, and a feeling of warmth as opposed to just technical proficiency. Don't get me wrong, the classic 90-mph accoustical riffage is still ever present, but is blended nicely with the other elements to create a much more complete sound.
4. Giant Squid - The Ichthyologist: If I only considered the first 6 tracks from this album, it would be right up there duking it out with BTBAM and Isis for best album of the year. Alas, the last few tracks lose me a little, although that's not to say they are bad. I wrote up a full review, so I won't be exhaustive here. But anyone interested in seeing how much depth an eerie cello can add to a post-rock/metal foundation would be well advised to give this album a go.
5. The Mars Volta - Octahedron: Another year, another release from one of the most prolific bands out there. While most TMV albums in the past have consisted of high-energy progressive wailing with slower numbers occasionally mixed in, on Octahedron the band turns the tables. There are a couple tracks that get slightly noisier and faster, but on the whole this is an extremely mellow, atmospheric album, nicely showcasing Cedric's crooning vocals and Omar's brilliant knack for texture. While many may find this album too much of a departure to give it much credibility, I think its an admirable effort and an excellent listen.
6. Long Distance Calling - Avoid The Light: I wrote up a full review of this album, so I won't go into too much detail. But overall, this instrumental post-rock/metal offering was this year's unexpected surprise. Great execution and some serious chops. I'll be interested to see what this band comes up with next.
7. Russian Circles - Geneva: After what I thought was a decent but somewhat disappointing sophomore effort, Station, I have to say I'm pretty happy with Russian Circles most recent release, Geneva. This album does feature quite a bit of the mellower, more atmospheric type passages that they began tinkering with on the last album, but they've returned with a bit more grit and heaviness this time. Not as heavy and raw as their first album, Enter (which is still my favorite), but more polished and controlled. It gives the album a nice sense of maturity, while still packing a punch.
8. Mastodon - Crack The Skye: This was a tough album to rank. There are a couple tracks on the album that are absolutely epic, and represent what is probably Mastodon's greatest work. However, the rest of the album tends to suffer, it just seems to be a bit watered down. It still features much of their trademark progressive sound, just spread a bit too thin. Overall, the album is decent, but I can't help but feel a bit of disappointment everytime I listen to it. Full review.
9. Baroness - Blue Record: Baroness' second full-length is a solid effort from start to finish. While it doesn't have an amazing couple standout tracks like their first LP did, I think this album is more consistent and cohesive. I find that I like this album more each time I hear it. I will admit, however, that I still miss the uncompromising grit of their first 3 EP's.
10. Pelican - What We All Come To Need: A nice return to heavy form for these instrumental metal pioneers. If I could base my opinion of this album on just the first few tracks, this would probably rank up in my top 3. Track 3, "Ephemeral", is particularly good, probably my second favorite Pelican tune ever, behind "March To The Sea". The album wanes a bit toward the end though, and actually delves into atrocious territory on the final track.
11. Porcupine Tree - The Incident: This sprawling 1.5 disc set (LP and EP) features some fine material by Steven Wilson and co., and is a very cohesive work overall. In particular, I think the later half of the LP is an amazing stretch. My only complaint would be about the abundance of short segue'ish tracks, that seem to spread the meaty material out a bit too much.
12. Clutch - Strange Cousins From The West: This album is fairly solid, it just didn't grab me like their past few have. There are a few songs that I found to be excellent, in particular "Motherless Child", "50,000 Unstoppable Watts", "Minotaur", and "The Amazing Kreskin". But the rest, while not horrible, just underwhelms me a bit. Any Clutch fan, including myself, will find the album reasonably enjoyable, but its certainly not in the ballpark of such works as Blast Tyrant or Robot Hive/Exodus. I would even go as far as to say it can't touch the first half of From Beale Street To Oblivion.
13. L'Homma Puma - On Remplace Les Yeux Casses: This was another random album I just happened to come across. Its some fairly well executed instrumental progressive/post-metal. What caught me by surprise was how they occasionally incorporate electronic elements. The first track in particular throws a funky little electronic twist in the middle that complements the heavy riff very nicely. Some tracks do tend to drone on a bit, but there are a couple gems in there. I'll definitely be interested in checking out their future material.

Between The Buried And Me - The Great Misdirect

01. Mirrors (3:37)

02. Obfuscation (9:15)

03. Disease, Injury, Madness (11:02)

04. Fossil Genera: A Feed From Cloud Mountain (12:10)

05. Desert Of Song (5:33)

06. Swim To The Moon (17:53)

To fully appreciate the latest offering put forth by North Carolina progressive metal outfit Between The Buried And Me, you must first turn an eye, or rather, an ear, to their monumental 2007 release, Colors. Colors is, in a word, PERFECT, one of only a handful of albums to which I have ever had the audacity to apply that label. Sonically and conceptually, the album is an absolute masterpiece, the kind of work that makes a great band....legendary.

What pressure BTBAM was feeling in their attempt to follow that effort, I can only imagine. The band having set such a ridiculously high standard for comparison, it was nearly impossible, as a fan, to not have such equally ridiculously high expectations for their follow-up. So, it was with great anticipation, and I must admit a fair amount of dread, that I awaited their most recent release, The Great Misdirect. When I got my hands on it, I slowly unwrapped it. I put it in the player. And with one last sigh in a world where BTBAM could do no wrong, I pushed PLAY, knowing that my image of the band would most certainly be a bit tarnished, if only in the tiniest sense.

And as the sounds filled my ears, one thought rose above all others: NO. F@*%ING. WAY.

Oops. They did it again.

This is the point at which my brain....exploded. I let the album weave and ebb through me. I absorbed every riff and drum blast, every growl and whispered croon, every soaring, arpeggio-laden frenzy and every hauntingly beautiful texture. And when I had collected it all and calculated the sum of the parts, my entire grasp on logic lay defeated, crying and broken on the floor.

The Great Misdirect is not as good as Colors. Its BETTER. Better than PERFECT.....just does not compute.

In the month or so since this fateful day of logical liberation, I have been unable to stop listening to The Great Misdirect. In a wickedly unfair twist of fate, there have been 3 or 4 other solid albums released this fall that I would also like to give a proper review, but every time I attempt to give one of them my attention, I find myself physically incapable of getting through it before maniacally swerving back to BTBAM, like a demented, salivating crack addict.

Getting to the specifics of the album, there are six total tracks. Two of the six ("Mirrors" and "Desert Of Song") are shorter mellow numbers, while the other four are of the longer, more dynamic variety. "Mirrors" leads in with a nice lighter groove, lyrically setting the conceptual table ("close one eye, step to the side") to slide seamlessly into "Obfuscation", a full-throttle ass-kicker. "Disease, Injury, Madness" follows, also mostly of the heavier variety, but also featuring a beautifully eerie melodic section from about the 2 to 5 minute mark (shades of Opeth here). The transition out of this passage is one of my favorite moments of the entire album, as an isolated dirty bass line punctures the calm and segues directly into some gloriously meaty guitar riffage. From here, the album treads into more bizarre territory with "Fossil Genera: A Feed From Cloud Mountain". This track's opening few minutes feature Tommy Rogers' best Mike Patton impression, creating a sort of creepy carnival vibe, before launching into BTBAM's patented brand of frenetic metal. "Desert Of Song" is a gorgeously executed ballad, and is the song that has grown on me the most since hearing it for the first time. The lyrics and the tone convey a potent sense of guarded optimism, powerful and moving but not overly complex. This all leads up to the closer "Swim To The Moon", which is probably my favorite track on the album. This song is 17 minutes of full-bore energy, featuring a nasty chugging riff (very reminiscent of Tool) during the first half, and some of the most epic solo'ing Paul Waggoner has come up with yet in the latter half. The breakdown toward the end is absolutely crushing, with Tommy Rogers brutally ripping the line "Look into the picture" repeatedly from his chest. This culmination rivals (albeit does not quite top) the legendary breakdown at the end of the Colors closer, "White Walls" (which does still stand as my favorite individual BTBAM track).

As for the overall feel, there is almost too much to try to capture in words. It is most certainly the next logical evolutionary step from Colors. BTBAM continue their mastery of pummeling, constantly-shifting rhythms, and indeed most of the album is a meticulously executed progressive slugfest. But it is their ability and willingness to blend in slower, melodic passages that gives this album a true sense of maturity. Serving as much more than to simply create a loud-quiet-loud dynamic, these passages are brilliantly woven into the longer tracks to actually give them a greater sense of cohesion and purpose. Every song feels like story, examined from every angle before reaching a logical, and usually devastating, conclusion. And with the tracks strung together, the same can be said of the album as a whole.

The Great Misdirect is an utterly astounding album. If their song-writing continues to mature and evolve, the sky is the limit for these guys. As much as it pains my already throbbing head to say it, BTBAM have proven that they are capable of outdoing even themselves.

Ween @ Red Rocks (09.06.2009)

1050 miles. Each way. Too far to travel, just to see a band?

When the band in question is the unparalleled force that is WEEN, the answer is obvious:

HELL NO!!

The past couple years have brought very little goings on in the world of Ween, aside from a so-so release in 2007's La Cucaracha and vague rumblings of Gener spending time in rehab. So, quite surprised was I in June when I just happened to peruse over to Ween's site to find that they had actually scheduled a host of new tour dates. My initial reaction was disappointment not to find any Austin shows (no Stubbs!). However, as I glanced through the dates, one jumped out at me, Red Rocks on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, and a brilliant plan began to piece itself together in the back of my brain.

That night I just so happened to be having beers with Ian, who also harbors a particular affinity for the Boys of Boognish. The prospect of driving up to catch Ween at Red Rocks was appealing, but initially not so much a realistic consideration. As we continued to discuss it, the potential of a Denver road trip seemed to get more and more attractive: neither of us had been to Denver before; the Denver area is loaded with good breweries worth checking out; the Rockies are in the thick of the Wildcard chase, and playing a series at home that weekend; and finally, my fellow Toolarmy compadre Bobage, who I know to be a huge Ween fan, happens to be a Denver resident and was also planning to hit the show. By the end of the night, this was no longer an interesting idea in the back of my head, it was a full-blown plan. We would make this trek to the mountains. We would enjoy the views and the brews. We would seek out and join forces with Bobage. And before it was all over, high above the city, upon the side of a mountain, we would ROCK.

The weekend of note arrived, to much anticipation. The drive up from Austin seemed easier than expected, and we spent the first day cruising around to various breweries and checking out their tap rooms. Major props in particular to Odell and Great Divide, not to mention the insane Silo Burger at Oskar Blues (A 1/2 lb. burger topped with lean pork, hot sauce, bacon and pepper Jack cheese. Burger brilliance.). The second day we hit the Rockies game in the early afternoon, which they won 13-5 in exactly the kind of slugfest you'd expect from that thin air up there at Coors Field. But the spectacle to go down that night was what we were really waiting for.

We headed out to the venue a couple hours before the show, to check the place out and meet up with Bobage for a pre-show beer or two. We parked, and after getting turned around and traversing a bit more rough terrain than ended up really being necessary, we found Bobage on the south side of the venue, hanging with a crew of what seemed like 50 people and rocking some Tecate's out of the tailgate of a mini-van. The anticipation of the show was really starting to kick in at this point, the beers were crisp, the mountain air was cool and fresh, and the Ween love vibe was coalescing around the masses.

Right about 7pm, we all made our way to the show. As we climbed the steps to the entrance, Bobage reminded me to take a second, to really let the moment sink in as I crossed the threshold into the amphitheater for the first time. Boy, was he right. As I walked in, I was struck by the absolute beauty of the venue. The towering striated rocks, the carved out stage, the majestic view of the city, the feeling of leaving the very Earth itself as we climbed higher, row-by-row....every detail of the environment felt enormous, yet simultaneously warm and intimate. As strongly as I ever had, at this moment, I felt like this was a place that is truly special. We snagged a couple rows just slightly behind the soundboard, and settled in for a night of good music.

Unlike any Ween show I had previously attended, this one actually had an opener, the Meat Puppets. I knew very little about the band beyond mere name recognition, and though I had nothing against the band itself, I was a bit bummed that having an opener at all may shorten Ween's set. As it was, I actually found them to be pretty enjoyable. They came on shortly after 8pm, and ended up playing for a little over an hour. As I am unfamiliar with the band, I'm unable to relate a full setlist, but I know they played the radio hit "Backwater", as well as a couple versions of "Lake Of Fire", which I actually hadn't realized was a Meat Puppets song. I would guess that they played about 8 or 9 songs total. Most of the tunes had a nicely accessible alt-rock/country-ish foundation that would then meander out into the weeds for some hearty guitar noodling and soaring solos. For a three-piece, they certainly sounded much larger, easily filling the space. I was impressed enough that I might actually look into their back catalog a bit. All in all, a nice warm-up.

After about a 20-minute break, Dean, Gene, and the gang came strolling out, to an absolutely thunderous Red Rocks welcome. After a quick hello, they started right in. Here is the set:

01. Pork Roll Egg And Cheese

02. Bananas And Blow

03. Now I'm Freaking Out

04. Learnin' To Love

05. My Own Bare Hands

06. Did You See Me?

07. Transdermal Celebration

08. Take Me Away

09. Don't Get 2 Close 2 My Fantasy

10. Woman And Man

11. Zoloft

12. Your Party

13. The Beacon Light

14. Stroker Ace

15. Voodoo Lady

16. Ice Castles

17. Final Alarm

18. Gabrielle

19. Touch My Tooter

20. Mister Would You Please Help My Pony?

21. Ocean Man

22. I'll Be Your Johnny On The Spot

23. Spinal Meningitis

24. Buckingham Green

25. Doctor Rock

(break)

26. Fiesta

27. The Mollusk

28. Roses Are Free

Being my first foray into the Red Rocks Amphitheatre, I was particularly interested in how good the sound really is. Tales of the sound quality are legendary, and would seem to be supported by the plethora of live albums recorded there. However, before the show I was warned that sometimes, if the wind kicks up, the sound can waver a bit, getting blown around by the intermittent gusts. I was also worried that a lot of the sound may simply dissipate into the open space, which is a common problem for outdoor venues. As it turned out, there was little to worry about on either front. There was the occasional moment where I would catch a higher guitar note or vocal that was slightly affected by the wind, but overall the sound was absolutely pristine. The drums and bass rumbled nicely along the rock foundation, and the guitar and vocals were nicely contained by the towering rocks all around. In addition, the mix was pretty spot on the whole way through. I imagine an audio recording from the soundboard should sound pretty amazing. [And as a related side note, they had several video cameras around the place, filming from various angles. The band also included quite a bit more visual effects than I remember from their previous shows, so I'm crossing my fingers this ends up as Ween's next spectacular DVD release!]

As for the show itself, oh my god, they absolutely destroyed the place with that set! Starting in with oldie "Pork Roll Egg And Cheese" was a good choice to get a nice groove going, and following up with sing-along favorite "Bananas And Blow" was sheer genius, getting the crowd involved in the action early. They goofballed it up a bit with "Now I'm Freakin' Out" and "Learnin' To Love", and plowed through a gritty rendering of "My Own Bare Hands". But it was with the next offering, a scorchingly intense version of "Did You See Me?", that I fully realized what a night we were in for. The slow layered intro, smoothly morphing to Deaner's moody controlled shredding, dropping off to Gener's melancholy isolated vocals....the song was magnificently executed, and carried beautifully through the clear mountain air, reverberating off the rocks and striking with a true sense of purpose. The elated crowd seemed to understand: Ween was on a mission tonight.

From that point on, every song seemed to be a classic. There were a few nicely placed slower numbers, including "Ice Castles", "Zoloft", and a particularly good rendition of "The Mollusk". But, unlike the previous shows I had seen, there was no accoustic segment, or any kind of prolonged slowdown. The band maintained a high level of energy throughout the night, sliding effortlessly between proggy mind-benders and full-throttle rockers, showcasing their astounding breadth of material. As is always the case, this allowed plentiful opportunities for Deaner's classic brand of extended guitar shredding. He went particularly ballistic on "Woman And Man", "Voodoo Lady", "Final Alarm", and "I'll Be Your Johnny On The Spot", taking each of those songs to glorious new heights for minutes at a time.

The crowd was in a constant state of frenzy the entire show, feeding off the energy Ween was delivering. Everywhere I looked, I could see the effect sweeping over the joyous masses: shouting along to the wait-this-is-kinda-creepy "Don't Get 2 Close 2 My Fantasy", bouncing around to the romping "Gabrielle", losing their minds to the frantic pace of "Stroker Ace", pumping their fists with every exclamation of "Doctor Rock!". The band, in turn, seemed to revel in the crowd's enthusiasm, cranking out one monstrous performance after another. At one point, as Deaner was laying down some nasty crunch during "Final Alarm", Bobage turned to me and said simply: "They're killing it tonight, man, they're totally killing it!" I couldn't argue with that.

And amidst all this rocking and shredding and handing of one's own ass, what arose more than anything throughout the venue was a feeling of total bliss, utter happy joyous bliss. No aggression, or anger, or angsty release, just good ol' fashioned honest-to-goodness happiness. Whatever it is about this band, their jocularity, their lack of pretense, not to mention their insane musical chops, a Ween show just makes you feel happy to be part of something good. And as the final soaring notes of "Roses Are Free" capped this particular night, we all knew we had just become part of something legendary.

And THAT is worth a lot more than 1050 miles.

Special thanks to Ian for making the trip, Bobage and his crew for the warm welcome, and of course my better half Sara for giving me the green light and bravely taking on a few days of solo toddler wrangling. It was a trip for the ages....