The album belongs to a extra harmless, pre-edgelord period in pop-cultural trolling, when being actively offensive was seen as a noble act of punching up in opposition to an uptight boomer institution, whose Democratic and Republican constituents have been discovering frequent trigger in blacklisting data. It was the period of peak Howard Stern, of Invoice Hicks’ ascendency to alt-comedy sainthood, and Denis Leary taking part in the Stone Temple Pilots to Hicks’ Nirvana in his MTV-commercial rants. Heck, even a younger Radiohead have been naming albums after Jerky Boys skits. As a pair of suburban stoners far more excited by meals than politics, Ween didn’t venture the identical kind of outwardly hostile vitality because the aforementioned contrarian cranks. However their deceptively affable demeanor meant they may get away with pushing the envelope even additional.
Whereas Freeman and Melchiondo would shudder at being labeled “comedy rock,” they approached music-making like a sketch troupe: Each music was its personal self-contained absurdist setting, every presenting a brand new alternative to reinvent themselves with completely different sounds, eventualities, and a few presumably ill-advised however endearingly executed fake-accented roleplay (see: the mock-Mexican homicide ballad “Buenas Tardes Amigos” or the mutant, Center Jap metallic of “I Can’t Put My Finger On It,” presumably the primary solely and music ever impressed by the stench of falafel).
And like nice comedian actors, Ween can convey a whole universe in easy ad-libbed particulars: On the opening honky-soul swinger “Take Me Away,” Freeman drops in an Elvisesque “thanks” to a smattering of canned applause, and also you’re instantly thrust right into a sparsely attended supper membership someplace within the Midwest circa 1974, watching some growing older and bloated former pop idol desperately making an attempt to remain hip 15 years previous his prime; you’ll be able to virtually image the sweaty overgrown sideburns, unbuttoned costume shirt and dangling bowtie. It’s no coincidence that a few of Ween’s most vocal followers are sketch-comedy creators themselves—Mr. Present, Tim and Eric, the South Park guys, and Tenacious D included. (And at a time when the alt-rock world was nonetheless grieving the loss of life of Kurt Cobain, Ween devoted Chocolate and Cheese to the late SCTV nice John Sweet, who died a month earlier than him.)
However the place their previous albums have been liable to degenerate into giggle matches, Chocolate and Cheese by no means breaks the fourth wall or winks for the digital camera. It successfully traps the listener in deeply uncomfortable conditions the place you’re pressured to ask your self: Ought to I be laughing at this? The centerpiece ballad, “Child Bitch,” perfected the acidic Elliott Smith acoustic serenade earlier than Smith had turn out to be synonymous with the shape, however its wounded coronary heart is wired to a gangsta rap mind. The music catalogs the unresolved resentments that bubble up when your ex resurfaces after you’ve entered a brand new relationship. However whereas numerous dorm rooms throughout America have collectively burst into laughter on the sound of Freeman softly singing “fuck you, you stinkin’ ass ho” over dulcet guitar strums, the music is as unflattering a portrait of male insecurity and self-loathing as something the Afghan Whigs have been placing out on the time.
