Ween released 12 Golden Country Greats in the summer of 1996 to a public primed for a prank. Aaron Freeman and Mickey Melchiondo, the duo known as Dean and Gene Ween, conditioned alt-rock audiences to expect gags and stunts with “Push th’ Little Daisies,” a perversely annoying novelty that became a staple on Beavis & Butt-Head. Chocolate and Cheese, their first album recorded in a professional studio, dispelled the notion they were one-hit wonders at the expense of positioning themselves as comedy rockers who prioritized punchlines over melody. In that light, a collection consisting of nothing but down-home music could be seen as the ultimate joke from a pair of indie-punk jesters.

The thing is, Ween did take 12 Golden Country Greats seriously, something that this triple-disc deluxe edition, released in commemoration of the album's 30th anniversary, makes clear. They recruited their old friend Ben Vaughn, an ’80s roots-rock veteran who had recently collaborated with Rodney Crowell and helmed Arthur Alexander’s acclaimed farewell, Lonely Just Like Me, to produce the record. Vaughn knew exactly where to take the project: “I proposed I do to Ween what Chet Atkins did to Willie Nelson back in the day: only allow them to sing on the record, not play.” Freeman and Melchiondo were delighted by this notion, so they took money from a publishing advance and headed to the legendary studio Bradley’s Barn to record an album with whatever members of the Nashville A-Team would abide playing on a tune called “Piss Up a Rope.”

Turns out a lot of the musicians were unfazed by dirty jokes. Hargus “Pig” Robbins, a blind pianist whose career stretched back to George Jones’ jumping “White Lightning” back in 1959, came into the session crowing, “So I hear we got some real country motherfuckers in here today,” demonstrating the kind of brazen attitude that suited Ween. Not that a ton of 12 Golden Country Greats wound up on the raucous side of the fence. “Piss Up a Rope” cranked up the twang and the vulgarity, its bawdiness matched by the boisterous Western Swing of “Mister Richard Smoker,” whose chicken-choking double-entendres are delivered with evident glee by Gene.

The enthusiasm of the Nashville cats almost makes it easy to turn a blind eye to the juvenile homophobia of “Mister Richard Smoker,” especially since the rest of 12 Golden Country Greats pushes humor into the background. Most of the album proceeds at a lazy ramble, a blend of the comforting countrypolitian and the folky wanderlust of the progressive country of the late ’60s. “I’m Holding You” slowly sways along with the Jordanaires, who provide the same harmonic assist as they did on so many Elvis Presley records, and “You Were the Fool” hits the same resonant mellow chord as Glen Campbell. There are still enough jokes to make the album feel like quintessential Ween. Deaner laments “I guess I spent the dog food money” on “Help Me Scrape the Mucus Off My Brain,” while Gener’s roll call of musician introductions on “Powder Blue” culminates with a surprise shoutout to Muhammad Ali, followed by an unlicensed sample of his “Rumble in the Jungle” speech. That punchline is thwarted on this reissue, which, like all subsequent pressings of 12 Golden Country Greats since ’96, stops cold after Freeman's introduction.

The Deluxe Edition may not contain that minute of Ali-assisted jamming, but it has a wealth of other material on its two additional discs, starting with the two songs that were cut from the album at the last minute to turn 12 Golden Country Greats into a tight 10-track record, just like Nashville made back in the ’60s. “So Long Jerry,” a wistful farewell to Jerry Garcia in the style of the quiet, sweeter parts of American Beauty, made it out as a B-side, but “I’ve Got No Darkside,” the duo’s only excursion into hardcore honky tonk during these sessions, is welcomely salvaged from obscurity. These tunes are both present on the disc of demos, which collectively provides two revelations. The demos demonstrate Freeman and Melchiondo’s dedication to craft, how their writing has grown bolder and tighter since Chocolate and Cheese, while also illustrating what the A-Team brought to the equation: In their skeletal demo incarnations, “Mister Richard Smoker” and “Powder Blue” both sound like the flights of lo-fi fancy that enlivened their debut, Pure Guava.

The third disc of outtakes and strays has a lot of that kind of material, which is appropriate for a collection of tracks cut on a TASCAM four-track between 1993 and 1995—the years when Ween wrote the bulk of Chocolate and Cheese and 1997’s The Mollusk, plus a bunch of songs that have only been heard on boots. This bonus disc also pulls plenty of previously unknown songs from the vaults, ranging from the instrumentals “Twinkle” and “Spaghetti” to the frenzied boogie “Bad Day in Brownsville” and riotous “Boston Chicken.” Some of this material veers toward country—the minor-key acoustic ballad “If You Can’t Look Me in the Eye” and woozy “I’m Gonna Fix Your Ass,” which feels like a drunk half-remembering the tune to “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels”—but, as a whole, it feels like a forgotten Ween album, one that could’ve been cleaned up enough to sound like a genuine sequel to the sprawling Chocolate and Cheese. That's not the route Ween chose. The passing of 30 years has only enhanced the appeal of the group’s Nashville detour, shifting attention from the incongruity of Ween cutting a country record to the joyous chemistry between these old pros and young punks.