I had never heard of Ween except for the insistent and effuse praise by a certain gentleman I know well named Cianan who, incidentally, also introduced me to Captain Beefheart, to which I owe him my most soiled diapers. Aside from some absolute brilliance, these guys are way out there. If Proteus were a musician, this would be his music: slippery, ever-changing and containing elements from every crook and cave this side of the nearest cepheid variable. Pure Guava, in this sense, is a tightly wound musical mess, gushing with pink ooze and variance of style. Understandably, some of it is not to my taste -- do you put sugar on your pizza? -- but it works for them.
I'd like to add first that "Pumpin' 4 The Man" is the most wonderful anti-ode to shitty employment ever; it's short, brutal and features a wallop of popping drums and bass.
"Push Th' The Little Daisies" is also a high-saccharine affair and showcases Dean's strangely perfect guitar riffs. "Little Birdy" is what I would call a drugged little ditty with interesting guitar warbling and warped vocals (much like the rest of the record, which is lacking in vocals without effects). "The Stallion, Pt. 3," "Big Jilm," "I Saw Gener Cryin' In His Sleep" -- all solid tracks.
Yet this is not a five-star review by any measure of my demented yardstick. "Tender Situation," "Sarah," and "I Play It Off Legit" are rather lacking in ooomph; frat-boy titled songs like "Touch My Tooter," "Flies On My Dick," "Hey Fat Boy (Asshole)" and "Poop Ship Destroyer" are not only silly titles, they're even stupider songs. Pure Guava, like Ween themselves, is like a buffett; and tell me, who likes to eat everything at a buffett? C-
