Free Ween's Chocolate and Cheese (33 1/3) by Hank Shteamer

a mournful choir and a potently twangy Melchiondo solo.
    As with “Freedom of ’76,” the lyrics flirt with absurdity. At one point the narrator reflects, “I looked at every fiesta / For you I wanted to greet / Maybe I’d sell you a chicken / With poison interlaced with the meat.” The result is a baffling South of the Border tale that’s part Speedy Gonzalez caricature and part Ennio Morricone melodrama. The song ends on an appropriately WTF note: a drawn-out sample of an explosion.
    It’s safe to say that while Freeman and Melchiondo could have easily sketched out a song like “Buenas Tardes” on their home setup, they would’ve had a tough time realizing the elaborate version that appears on
Chocolate and Cheese
. As Andrew Weiss observes, “The arrangement on that with the handclapping and the keyboards and stuff — you never could’ve done that ona 4-track.” This is one song where you can really hear the band capitalizing on their technological upgrade, using their newfound multitrack capabilities to yield an impressively elaborate piece of work. With “Buenas Tardes,” any lingering brownness is in the music itself, rather than in the crudeness of the sound.
    A key element of the song’s professional veneer is the presence of Stephan Said, who plays an ongoing Spanish-guitar solo that runs parallel to the verses of the song. Said’s understanding at the time was that he was there to “authenticate some of the traditional references” — in this case, to help impart a believable mood to the song. “I’m [playing] the nylon-string guitar that’s doing tasters throughout the whole thing that actually makes it sound somewhat flamenco-y,” explains Said. “That [feeling] was there before, but they were right to add just that little hint, to take it there.” The guest artist apparently had no trouble achieving this effect quickly. “[‘Buenas Tardes’] was one take, with Andrew mixing it, and I remember tracking it in the dark — there were no lights on in the whole fucking place. I remember not being able to see my instrument or my hands. I think we were just in such a vibe. It was just such a late-night, rock ’n’ roll affair.”
    Despite the high level of musicianship on display in “Buenas Tardes,” Melchiondo is quick to point out that there’s nothing advanced about the song’s inspiration. “Aaron wrote that from
Sesame Street
,” he explains. “You know how
Sesame Street
has those little Spanish sequences? You know, they had Maria and a couple other characters and occasionally they would do that,and [Aaron] was watching it and they said, ‘
Hola
means “hello.”
Buenas tardes
means “Good afternoon.”’ And I think he just ran with it.”
    Freeman elaborates:
    I remember writing that song better than most for some reason. I had moved into my very first apartment by myself after some years at Brookridge Farm. I had my own big bed in my own big room and a TV to watch in bed as well. I remember it being the first time I had really felt like being a musician and artist was my calling and settling into the notion. I remember it was a beautiful morning and I woke up hungover. I looked to my bed table and saw the bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the night before. I leaned, turned on the TV and it was
Sesame Street
and a very white-looking and -sounding puppet was schooling the other puppets on how to say “Good morning,” “Good evening” and “Good afternoon” in Spanish. I remember laughing really hard and almost throwing up — then the song came very quickly thereafter.
    Freeman’s exaggerated yet still believable Mexican accent seals the deal. “I am and always have been very much like the movie
Zelig
from Woody Allen — it comes naturally,” says the singer of his ability to slip into various accents at will. But Melchiondo draws attention to the ersatz nature of Ween’s approach to Mexican culture, a perspective that nevertheless passes for the real thing