Ween on the green at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass 2018

“The Boognish is smiling down upon us!”

After what feels like hundreds of tiny, well-placed footsteps through a seemingly endless floor of blankets and lawn chairs, we rejoice with the joy of plane crash survivors being rescued from the wilderness. A perfect patch of grass, untouched by the relentless colonialism of festival goers, reveals itself to us, and with the speed of a pack of wolves converging on a wounded animal, we throw down our blankets and set up for the afternoon.

It’s a beautiful Sunday in San Francisco, as thousands of locals and non-locals alike head out to Golden Gate Park for the final day of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. Hippies, punks, families, older dudes there to see Booker T. Jones, real bluegrass fans; everyone is out in force for a mellow day of good tunes and good times.

Now, personally, there’s one band and one band only I’m here to see, and that’s, wait for it: Ween. The patch of grass we so serendipitously found is a spot in front of the Towers of Gold stage, a name I not only find is hilarious, but also where the Gene Ween (real name Aaron Freeman) and Dean Ween (Mickey Melchiondo) will be laying down their signature brand of alternative rock, one that in sounds like punk, experimental, psychedelic, soul, funk, country, and more or less any other style of music spat out through a goofy, irreverent nineties filter.

As the setting sun’s rays shine through the trees and into the field where we’re nestled, everything begins to feel otherworldly. Speculations are flying across the blankets of what records they’re gonna play songs from, whether or not they’ll bust out an entire country set in honor of Hardly Strictly, things like that. At this point I’m really feeling the whole outdoor festival jam band spirit, despite the fact that Ween are heavily anti-Phish and I don’t even know that much about the Grateful Dead.

Eventually, they take the stage. It’s not all that ceremonious, but it feels important. Instruments are noodled on, and Gene and Dean greet the festival, met by wild applause. In reality it could have been mild applause, but the six or seven people I was there with were loud enough that I’ll never know for sure. It’s an unspoken agreement that the crowd has with each other to all stand up right now, and without further ado, the show starts with ominous bells of fan favorite, “Spinal Meningitis (Got Me Down).” Like I said, there was a lot of speculation that Ween was going to play an acoustic/country heavy set based on the setting of a (not entirely) bluegrass festival. In fact, they do the exact opposite. “Spinal Meningitis” is heavy, mosh-worthy, somewhat disturbing, and the perfect start to a fairly eclectic set.

One of the more profound moments from the set is “Buckingham Green,” a longer and heavier pseudo-metal track from the band’s pinnacle album The Mollusk (1997). Smoke machines obscure the band members, leaving the audience free to bask in the glory of the riffs and the over the top, faux-British vocal delivery of Freeman. After five glorious, head-banging minutes, the smoke clears and we are again left in a field in Golden Gate Park, and I am not entirely convinced that what I just witnessed truly took place on our own Earth.

Despite entirely avoiding playing anything from 12 Golden Country Greats (1996) and White Pepper (2000), both of which contain a fair amount of fan favorites, Ween delivers a concise and diverse set spanning more or less their entire discography. I was worried that seeing my favorite band could only leave me disappointed, but the Boognish (the fictional demon god that serves as Ween’s mascot and logo) blessed us with a great set. And some homeless dude blessed us with beer. Ah, I love you Hardly Strictly. See you next year.

Written by Kieran Zimmer