Ween’s freewheeling spirit sparks wild show

rippers with unprintable song titles where Freeman screamed so hard into the mic that his face turned fire-hydrant red. Schizo pop tantrums (“The Tick”) became strange bedfellows with jaunty, shoulder-rolling finger snappers with pedophile protagonists (“Mr. Richard Smoker”).

Ween can jam for days, as it did on an unabridged “Woman and Man,” or seduce with winking soft rock come-ons (See: “Your Party,” where Fishbone’s Angelo Moore joined the band on sax.)

For a group as allergic to anything straight-faced as this bunch is, they’re serious musicians, with ace accompaniment in drummer Claude Coleman Jr., bassist Dave Drewitz and keyboardist Glen McClelland, their playing fluid yet tight (an associate who was at the venue earlier in the day said the band sound-checked for four hours prior to the show).

Together, they scramble genres and brains alike.

This is a band that can somehow craft a credible tune out of its frontman adopting a Spanish accent and placing various orders for Mexican food over a beat, which they did on show closer “Pollo Asado.”

“Sometimes I lose my head,” Freeman offered by way of explanation on the Thin Lizzy-esque “Gabriel.”

If his wits were nowhere to be found on this night, it was no biggie.

He wasn’t looking for them, either way. Read more from Jason Bracelin at reviewjournal.com. Contact him at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com and follow @JasonBracelin on Twitter.