discovering the melvins
14th March 2012
The little that I know of the Melvins falls directly into my wheelhouse. Sludgy, chaotic, it’s the type of music your bowels would shout before vacating themselves violently. As a fan of Neurosis, Eyehategod, and a coven full of other vitriolic bands, it’s kind of astonishing how the Melvins have gone largely unnoticed. It’s impossible not to, at least, know of them and the high regard in which fans hold them. Though, as with most of the bands in our libraries, their place and ownership can be attributed to youthful cliques and the soundtracks that accompany juvenile delinquency. Those years of discovery establish the foundations for a lifetime of musical appreciation along with, obviously, every other aspect of development. When I think of the scores of bands that my friends enjoyed, the Melvins simply weren’t among the ranks. Without a sufficient point of entry into the band’s library, they continued forward with nary a glance. I actually owned one of their albums prior to this forthcoming experiment, but, aside from that relatively small collection of songs, the swamp of Buzzo has gone unexplored. Starting now, I correct this oversight. This semi-chronological exploration may result in either a lifetime of enjoyment or maybe enough Melvins for a lifetime. Either way, their essence shall no longer elude me.
First, a couple of ground rules. There are over twenty albums in the Melvins discography. I will only be chronicling my experience with the major LP releases. There’s simply not enough time as it is to fairly critique those. The entries for each band are, largely, first impression observations. Again, in order to reach the end of this expedition before my 40th birthday, I can’t afford to marinate on these for a week at at time. All of that said, I invite you to join me as we dig deep into the Melvins.
Stoner Witch - 1994
We’re going to start with this album, the band’s seventh LP, because it’s the control in this great experiment. This album is all I know of the Melvins, aside from random songs heard between bands at a concert or the live versions from the band itself (9/24/09, when I saw them open for Down). I don’t recall where it was purchased or the situation preceding. It’s simply been a part of my collection forever, a monolith amongst memories. I know that the chorus of “Queen” is what I associate with the Melvins whenever anyone mentions them and that “Revolve” was a staple on numerous adolescent black ops missions against the town and citizenry of Papillion, Nebraska. That song reminds me of the many capers that should’ve resulted in a night’s stay in the clink but never did thanks to an understanding cop named “Yogi.” Playing Stoner Witch now presents the first objective going forward: the attempt to make sense of Buzz Osborne’s lyrics, if sense is to be made at all. Something tells me his lyrics are purposely absurd, that they’re never anything more than space-keepers as vocal instrumentation. I mean, can this really mean anything:
Hey big bonehead
He said deny but your boy did lie
Hit my shoulder
Big Boat deluxe, Big Boat deny
It drives me crazy to not know what a singer is saying. One, because I like to sing along to songs I enjoy, and, two, because the meaning of a song is important (even if the musicians say it’s up to the listener to decide, something I’ve always taken as code for “I don’t know how to write meaningful lyrics”). If I can’t translate “Melvin”, this excursion may result in brain bruising.
This album probably stayed in my collection after the first listen because of “Queen” and its position in track listing. It’s easily the most accessible song on the album and is only preceded by a brief, table-setting instrumental intro. If not for that thick sirloin of a song, interest may have been lost entirely. Even still, comprehension and appreciation of this album didn’t come for, maybe, a decade later. It was held onto and played in the company of others as a display that I “got” a band that clearly was great but actually escaped me. As previously testified, they still do. But in a very naive way, Stoner Witch has brought joy.
Gluey Porch Treatments - 1987
“Eye Flys” feeds my presuppositions like a validated stereotype. This is exactly what I’d expect from my first unknown Melvins song: four minutes and forty-six seconds of gnarl and feedback before a vile sputum of incoherent disdain. Who begins their albums like this in 1987? The Melvins, apparently. This album is grimey in 2012....what were long-hairs in the late 80’s making of this? As the tracks move on to “Heater Moves and Eyes”, Kongh and High on Fire and Cough all come to mind and, subsequently, dull in affect. I’m not naive enough (in the ways of the Melvins anyway) to not know the reach of their influence, but this is early for this kind of loveless sludge. Crowbar didn’t start releasing demos for another year. Sometimes droning (“Heaviness of the Load”) and sometimes spastic punk (“Exact Paperbacks”), this release is a rough draft finalized without proof: everything stays. I’m kinda surprised by how similar it is to the Melvins that I know, the band that would be seven years later. There’s not as wide a chasm between the band finding itself and the blueprint for albums to come. And yet, as I continue to try and place this sound in the context of the time, it’s incredible to comprehend something that isn’t a plagiarization of something else. The influences are there, sure, but comparing Gluey Porch Treatments to Sabbath’s Master of Reality or Black Flag’s Family Man would be the narrowest of descriptions. One thing is certain: if I had listened to this album or band in my formative years, they very likely would’ve ruined a lot of the bands I enjoy now. How fitting is the album title Gluey Porch Treatments, for the Melvins are the missing piece to glue a lifetime of my own influences together.
As impressive as this album is in the context of rock history, I don’t know that I’ll listen to it again. It diddles my bundle of sludge starved nerves but, after this handful of listens, I’m free of any hooks.
Oh, and more songs where I don’t know what the fuck he’s saying.
Ozma - 1989
This album is more produced than it’s predecessor, which is like saying Augusto Pinochet was mean. The vocals sound like Buzz is singing through a Progresso soup can and the music is subdued, like they were purposely dulled during the mastering process. I haven’t heard a sound this shallow since ...And Justice for All. The beef, the dirty dangling balls of the first album, has been castrated with a can opener. This album is a muted eunuch.
All of this though is in direct comparison to Gluey Porch Treatments and, when critiquing Ozma on its own merits, is unfair. You eventually grow accustomed to the cuckold treatment of the album but, even after acclimating one’s self to the unjust production, there’s still not much to go on here. The songs are flurrious jabs that never land and refuse to set the audience up for a knockout. Again, the revision process was skipped. The cutting room floor is bare.
Bullhead - 1991
Two notes into “Boris” and I already like this album more than Ozma. The fuzz is back as is the constipated drone. The vocals return to a naturalist delivery (the tonal inflection of which creates a great contrast over the despair of “Boris” and “Ligature”). Everything simply seems to have more life to it, more enthusiasm. Songs are longer, more inspired and purposeful. The no-boundaries experimentation is utilized in the flushing out of a vision, resulting in the complexity that was attempted previously but never really achieved. Again I’m astounded by the year in which this album, this sound that I hear echoed from bands that put shit out THIS year, was released. Bullhead, at the right volume and right moments, is just as cacophonous as anything from Sunn O))) or OM. I’m starting to understand the impressive influence cited by so many bands in the stoner/drone metal business.
(Interesting side note about the tour for Bullhead: Nirvana opened up for the Melvins during a week in September and Neurosis opened before both the Melvins and Claw Hammer at a stop in San Francisco. Neurosis would have yet to release Souls at Zero, which was still about a year away.)
For those seeking the earliest point in the Melvins catalogue when which they fell into a groove, Bullhead is a natural debut. It’s eccentric but coordinated with all the raw energy of Gluey Porch Treatments.
Houdini - 1993
The beefy, inebriated stroll that had come to define the Melvins becomes an enraged stomp within seconds of Houdini’s opening track “Hooch”. Even though numerous EPs (as well as the Lysol album) precede Houdini, it is very much the spiritual successor to Bullhead. The refinement of the Melvins sound continues but definitely seems closer to completion. Halfway through “Lizzy”, I’m realizing how much the Melvins accomplish without ANY melody. This is nearly refuted moments later with the cover of the KISS ballad “Goin’ Blind” but, even with this heart-felt song, there’s almost a hard-headed attempt at vacating all melody. No one is this unintentionally tone deaf, not when they’ve clearly exhibited an affluence for song writing. Right? Is this a joke? The song ends without a conclusion. Hesitant to declare one way or the other for fear of being another butt of the joke, we press on.
“Pearl Bomb” is the audio equivalent to Chinese water torture. I can feel my heartbeat changing to match the persistent beat. It’s absolutely racing. My vision is closing into a tunnel. Jesus Christ, Jr., this is maddening. Thankfully, after skipping to the next track, “Spread Eagle Beagle” restores some sense of sanity with its TEN MINUTES OF TRASH CAN STOMPING. WHAT THE DICK?
Houdini trails off in a big way towards the latter third of the album, but it still gets a recommended rating by me and the thousands of Knicks fans going crazy from the game winning three that Lin just put on the Raptors. That was pretty nuts.
Click here for Part II.
