“Man, is Gene ok? He seems really messed up.” These and other similar concerns were expressed by fans as Aaron Freeman sloppily strummed his guitar and slurred incoherently, struggling to perform “Birthday Boy” in front of a sold-out crowd in Vancouver on January 24, 2011. The event is immortalized in a video on YouTube.

The video is sadder when considered in the context of the lyrics: “Help me now, I’m going down/ And I don’t know if I’ll be okay”. In the murky footage is a man— gaunt and wan with wild grey hair, like a mix between Edward Scissorhands and Jim Jarmusch— hitting rock bottom before our eyes. His bandmates abandon him in the midst of the spectacle and, upon realizing it, Freeman shambles off stage as well, making way for the house lights to unceremoniously come up. The event was derided in the Canadian press and fans were left concerned as to the health and future of Aaron Freeman.

***

Aaron Freeman and Mickey Melchiondo (Gene and Dean Ween, respectively) famously met in an eighth grade typing class in New Hope, Pennsylvania around 1984. It wasn’t love at first sight, with Gene reflecting, “We didn't like each other. He was a jock, and I was more of a trench-coat guy. But we sat next to each other in typing class and both realized we were into music.” They eventually formed a band with Gene on rhythm and vocals and Dean on lead. This inauspicious beginning was the impetus for a music career that has spanned nearly three decades and produced one of the most singular and unique acts in music history: Ween.

The early days of Ween defy easy explanation and sound drastically different than their later output; their sound at the time was self-described as “brown” music. In the few years following their formation, Ween self-released six cassette tapes, the contents of which Dean acknowledged were “…designed to be obnoxious.”

After becoming ingrained in their local music scene, Ween was signed to a small local label. Recorded on a four track, the albums from this era (GodWeenSatan, The Pod) were extremely lo-fi, acid-washed in effects, and often funny, featuring bizarre and irreverent subject matter on songs like “Papa Zit,” “Mushroom Festival in Hell,” “Carne Asada,” and “Hippy Smell.” Gene later said of the era: “The early 90’s (were) when we were smoking tons of weed and taking lots of acid and mushrooms; that really helps your creativity. Or at least it did for me.” In 1992, Ween signed to Elektra records and released their major label debut: "Pure Guava." “Push Th’ Little Daisies,” the album’s only single, proved to be an unlikely hit after it was made mildly famous by its mocking at the hands of "Beavis and Butthead."

Ween quickly earned a reputation as one of the best live performers around. Following their burgeoning success, Gene and Dean established a backing band and entered the studio. The resulting album, 1994’s "Chocolate and Cheese," drug their sound from the murky, brown, depths into a brighter, cleaner, and more polished future. A depth and maturity emerged as Ween skillfully combined stronger musicianship and cohesion into their existing inimitable sound. In addition, the band’s talent for dissection and emulation revealed itself in full, demonstrating that Gene and Dean had keen eyes for the tropes and trademarks of popular music. "Chocolate and Cheese" was my first exposure to Ween; it was given to me by a friend. She handed me a burned copy and said, “I just feel like you would really love them.” She was correct.

They released in 1996 "Twelve Golden Country Greats," a ten track album recorded in Nashville with legendary Country session musicians. The album saw Ween once again weaving their irreverent worldview into the tapestry of an established musical formula. In 1997, Ween released what many fans and critics point to as their masterpiece: "The Mollusk." A loose concept album, "The Mollusk" was a nautically-themed affair that once again spanned myriad genres: 60’s Britpop, Irish folk tunes, 80’s synthpop, sea chanties; even tin pan alley is lovingly represented here. Dean has said that "The Mollusk" is his favorite of Ween’s oeuvre, and indeed there really is nothing like it.

The new millennium saw the release of "White Pepper," arguably one of the more straightforward albums in their catalog, the title of which is a portmanteau and homage to The Beatle’s "The White Album" and "Sgt. Pepper’s." They left their label and three years later released Quebec, a somewhat scattered, darker effort. Gene attributed the hue of the music to his divorce that was ongoing at the time. Cues could be found in Gene’s lyrics that things were amiss, such as on the track “Zoloft”: “Gimme that z,o-l-o-f-t/ Gimme a grip, make me love me/ Suckin’ ‘em down, I’m happy man/ Can feel it inside, makin’ me smile/ …realize that the sky’s not made of gold don’t disguise the nature of your soul.” Dean said of the tonal shift: “I like it as a record, but it's very negative. It's one of our darker records, I think. I don't listen to any of our records, but I have never listened to that one.” I love the darkness of "Quebec" and it is one of my favorites but, in retrospect, this could be where the disassociation first formed between Gene and Dean.

Ween’s final studio album, "La Cucaracha," came out in 2006. The album was not as well received as their past work (at least by critics) and Ween began to subsist almost entirely as a live act. They had managed to amass a devoted, near-religious following whom they affectionately termed the Children of the Boognish. The Boognish is a mischievous “Demon-God” for which Ween established the mythos in their early work as a controlling entity and silent partner. The Boognish’s crude visage graced the cover of "GodWeenSatan" and became their logo, emblazoning every banner of every live show. Despite not releasing new material, they remained a profitable touring act. They toured relentlessly, and the drug abuse and stress of life on the road slowly came to a head and culminated on that fateful night of January 24th.

***

The performance in Vancouver was correctly presumed by many Ween fans to be the breaking point. Ween had been linked with drinking and drugging for their entire career, so few people were truly surprised to see it had finally taken a toll. Ween would perform their “final” show at the Fillmore Auditorium in Denver (unfortunately, I wasn’t able to attend) on December 31st, 2011, almost a year after Gene’s on-stage meltdown. It was the end of an era. Dean had been playing with other musicians for years and smoothly transitioned into performing full-time in his side projects Moistboyz and The Dean Ween Project. Gene entered drug and alcohol rehabilitation and prepped a solo record. At the time, Gene uncharacteristically provided ample interviews, and spoke openly about his lifelong struggle with addiction. Speaking with The A.V. Club, Gene said:

“It gets to a point where you realize that you’ve been in this rock ’n’ roll world for so many years, and it’s time to just take responsibility… Over the years I’ve developed quite a problem, and I’ve been trying to treat it on and off for years now, and it just has not been working out… I’m very happy that I’m still around to even be in recovery.”

Despite the best efforts of journalists, little could be extracted from Gene or Dean as to the future of Ween. Gene made it clear that he was retiring the moniker to distance himself from his previous addict self, and that Ween was permanently finished. He feared that his sobriety would be at risk if ever he were to return to that lifestyle. Though disappointed at the news, Ween fans were outspoken in their support of both men, trading speculation and theories on message boards and subReddits about the breakup and the future.

I grew increasingly wistful about their breakup as my admiration and interest in them only continued to grow, and I would never get the opportunity to see them perform. To my great delight and surprise, Ween announced in November of 2015 that they would be reuniting for a series of shows in Denver. On February 12th and 13th, 2016, I finally got a chance to see Ween perform the first two of three performances following a hiatus of nearly four years. I was curious what, if any, impact the long break would have on their performance. I was also curious how, if at all, Ween would affect Gene’s recent personal growth. Tickets in hand, me and some buddies made our way to the 1st Bank Center in Broomfield, Colorado to see Ween.

***

For a February evening in Colorado, it was modestly cool. I sat with my friend Andrew and his friend Kyle in Kyle’s blue Saturn, drinking some Miller Lite in the dirt parking lot that lay about a quarter mile from the 1st Bank Center. Having learned good practical sense from my mother, I insisted that we arrive at the venue an hour before the doors opened to ensure a stress-free experience both before and after the show. We sat exchanging anecdotes about our excitement and watched as more and more cars drove in and were waved into place by disembodied scepters of orange light.

Around seven (show was at eight) we lit a cig and headed towards the venue. We didn’t make it too far, however, as the line from the the venue extended out about five blocks. We took our place at the end of the line, soon getting swallowed up on both sides by the five-person wide queue. There was a well-dressed man behind us, exuding wealth as he smoked a cigar; the 20-somethings in front chattered excitedly as they gobbled marijuana gummy bears, three at a time, as if they weren’t each imbued with 10mg of THC. A couple of guys dressed in white hazmat suits streaked in brown paint continually walked up and down the line asking for tickets; the Boognish was painted prominently on their back and “Ween” was crudely scrawled in various locations. There was a charge in the air.

The line moved faster than I expected and in about thirty minutes we were being gingerly patted down by a wizened, “I’m-getting’-too-old-for-this-s**t” kind of woman with a yellow shirt that read STAFF across the back. The device in her hand bee-dooed as she scanned our tickets and allowed us access. I, for one, really had to pee. I raced around the bland, maroon-painted 1st Bank Center in search of the men’s restroom. I found it, relieved myself, and waited in the adjacent beer line for my fellow Weeners to emerge as well. Andrew looked stricken as he approached. “Dude, I think I just saw Elijah Wood in there. I swear-to-god it was him.”

“No way!” I exclaimed, “I bet it was just some doe-eyed look-alike.” I set my eyes back toward the beer line.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Pretty strange though. It looked just like him. That would be weird.” Andrew’s words quickly faded from my mind as I anguished over whether I wanted a Budweiser or a Coors. Budweiser had a cooler-looking can, narrowly winning my favor. I bought my $10 beer and sipped it as I waited for Kyle and Andrew to procure their brews. Sure enough, Frodo himself emerged from the bathroom and leaned against the wall, fiddling with his cellphone. Some hot, inexplicable urge rose up within me to say something and approach him. He looked up from his phone and met my gaze, silently communicating to me that I should leave him alone, so I did. We had a smoke in the designated area and looked for seats. Managing to find a table on the second floor balcony, we posted up.

Within thirty minutes, the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into exuberant celebration. Gene and Dean walked onto the stage together and picked up their instruments. Gene began strumming a G chord, checking his levels, and approached the mic. “Hi. We’re Ween. How ya guys doin’? This is Dean Ween, I’m Gene Ween.” A wonderful excitement welled up within me. I felt a surge of emotion; at once I was one with the nigh 7,000 people present. They opened with “What Deaner Was Talkin’ About,” one of my favorite songs off "Chocolate and Cheese," then quickly moved into “Buckingham Green” one of my favorites from the "The Mollusk." Admittedly, the sound was poorly mixed at first. It was LOUD, and I couldn’t really hear Deaner’s guitar. The venue seemed to get it under control after a few songs, and I no longer had to worry about jamming my fingers into my ears to mitigate the white noise.

About 1/3 of the way through the show, they played another one of my favorites: “Roses Are Free,” once again from "Chocolate and Cheese." There were a few sour notes and at one point the drummer, Claude, dropped a drumstick, leaving the sound feeling oddly empty. Nonetheless, they carried on like true professionals. Midway through the song, as it was time for Dean’s solo, great gusts of confetti began streaming out of the air cannons, filling up the atmosphere with little 1” multi-colored squares of paper. It was an awesome sight. Gene casually walked over to Dean and began playing a harmonic solo with him, both swaying in time, staring at their instruments. It was a surprisingly touching sight—it struck me that these two men had been creating and playing music together for thirty years, the majority of their lives, and here I was witnessing their reunion, their musical reconciliation.

There’s nothing as exciting as finding a fellow Ween fan in the wild. There’s an inherent bond, and up to this point I had never met a Ween fan I didn’t like. That changed when this bald, Mike-from-Pawn Stars-looking, silk shirt wearing, wheat beer drinking, ass-grabbing douche showed up with his two bloated wenches in tow and proceeded to stand right in front of us, blocking our view. There was plenty of room on the balcony, mind you, so this felt like kind of a jerk move to me. Ween began a stretch of deeper cuts from "Pure Guava" and "GodWeenSatan" (my least favorite albums) and I decided to hit the restroom and go have a smoke.

Leaving Andrew and Kyle behind, I roamed the 1st Bank Center in search of a bathroom. Deftly weaving between the crowds of people, I saw a few strange things. Some woman in a lit alcove had a child no older than two whom she was holding up by the arms, violently jiggling the poor thing along to the music. A huge, imposing man with a dragon tattoo that wrapped around his bald head grabbed me by the shoulders and yelled, “Deaner! Woooooo!” while the spittle from his exclamation came in like hot little meteorites onto my face.

The rest of the evening came and went, and they played a few more classics: “Even If You Don’t” from "White Pepper" and “Buenas Tardes Amigo” from "Chocolate and Cheese," which closed the show. Thanks to my expert planning, we were able to make it back to the car and out of the parking lot before things got too hectic. The performance was good, but I found myself just the slightest bit unfulfilled. It felt like they were holding back a bit, which could have been nerves, or it could have been that it’s their first sober show together in decades. I made it home and collapsed on my bed, hoping that tomorrow night would prove more fruitful.

***

It was colder the second night, thanks to the chilly breeze that whipped through the cookie-cutter apartment buildings that surround the venue. Kyle could only attend one night, so Andrew and I were instead accompanied by my cousin Jackson. We arrived even earlier (at my behest) and managed to supersede most of the line. We followed a similar pattern to the night before: bathroom, beers, smoke, seats. We saw Frodo again, wearing a fedora (sigh), and dressed in all denim. We got better seats closer to stage-right and waited for the show to start.

I should clarify here that there are actually two types of Ween fans: those that also like Phish, and those that do not. I fall in the latter category. Phish brought Ween to the attention of many-a skinny, unwashed, MDMA snortin’, head-heavy-with-dreads-jam-band fan when they covered “The Roses Are Free” in their live act. A bitter battle has since ensued, and unfortunately our seats were stationed by their spokesman. He insisted on high-fiving everyone, multiple times, and spared not one unfortunate soul from the horrifying concept that he has a Ween cover band. “Wooooo! Ween! Are you excited bro? High five! Yeah! Ween! Yeah, I really hope they open with ‘Poopship Destroyer.’ I actually have a cover band where I live, in Portland, called ‘Poopship Destroyer.’ It’s my favorite Ween song. Man, I really hope they open with ‘Poopship.’” Every. Single. Person. I quietly savored each 25-cent-sip of my overpriced beer and did my best to ignore his antics.

Ween came on stage, yet again to deafening applause, and proceeded to play some of my favorite songs from "White Pepper." The sound was infinitely better and the entire band seemed to have more confidence in what they were doing. This is what I had been expecting. They busted out acoustic guitars in the middle of the set and did some wonderful stripped-down versions of “Joppa Road” and “Ocean Man”. I noticed that Gene was drinking out of a red Solo cup, and I found myself getting a little nervous. Was he drinking? Was Gene off the wagon? In between songs I heard a couple of people around me saying things to the effect of “Is Gener drinkin’ right now?” He was definitely looser, as was the rest of the band, but I found my concern hard to keep present in mind as they were just so good. They played favorite after favorite (as well as, regrettably, “Poopship Destroyer”) and did a tribute to Lemmy from Motörhead (R.I.P.) with a stirring rendition of “Ace of Spades.”

I could have listened to them play for hours more even though it felt as though I’d worn through all the cartilage in my knees and my bones were grinding together. I felt a few pangs in my heart about missing the third night, surprised at my capacity for such heroic feats of social interaction. I didn’t get to hear my two favorite songs, “The Argus” and “It’s Gonna Be (Alright)”, but their catalog is so diverse and possessive of such unique charm that I wasn’t too upset about it. My fellow Weeners and I once again made a clean break from the venue, and I returned home to get some much-needed rest.

***

I spent most of Sunday writing this and wishing I could go to the final night. A heavy sorrow hung in my breast, and I found myself listening to the live recordings from the Weenkend’s performances that had been posted to the Ween subReddit. I clicked a blue link that read “Was Gener Drinking Last Night??” A user that had been close to the stage said that he only witnessed the band drinking La Croix sparkling beverages. The other users expressed relief and agreed that it was a wonderful display of solidarity by the band for Gene’s sobriety.

Since the show in Colorado, Ween has gone on to perform at the Okeechobee Music Festival in Florida and will return to Colorado at the end of the year at Riot Fest. There's even buzz that they're prepping a new record of b-sides to follow "Shinola, Vol. 1." Things are looking up for the Children of the Boognish. I’m happy to report that Ween lives.