So I was meeting my friend Patrick at Revolver (formerly The Source, failed gay bar and best decrepit, empty, four-story watering hole in Taipei) for some drinks. Things had changed, and when I got there he shouted over the din of popped-collared, rugby-bro yelling that there was some Queen cover band upstairs. Meh, I thought. We sat drinking for a while, until I caught a few strands of guitar through the floor. “Man,” I yelled to him, “that’s balls trying to pull off Freddie Mercury.”
“No, not Queen,” he shouted back, “Ween.”
I raced upstairs, just in time for Buckingham Green:
Man, the incongruity of a Ween cover band anywhere, much less Taipei, tickles me so much. They are a pair of weirdos, Gene and Dean Ween, sometimes silly, sometimes serious, sometimes both. They drank, did drugs, and wrote and performed prolifically together for almost 30 years — their oeuvre is immense. I recommend starting with The Mollusk.
B-Side: Birthday Boy
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