Melvins: "The Water Glass"

Last year, sludge-rock band the Melvins released its 20th album (and third since linking up with Big Business members Jared Warren and Coady Willis). That album, entitled The Bride Screamed Murder, is emblematic of what the band has done its whole career: tweak its signature sound — part anthemic classic rock, part avant-garde heaviness — to present something entirely new yet quintessentially Melvins. That willingness to shake things up has been a major factor in the band's longevity.

After last year's release, the band undertook a tour in early 2011, playing a different album from its back catalog each night. As the saying goes, you get what you give, and in this case, the Melvins' 30-year history of experimentation has continually rewarded the band with new experiences. Dale Crover, drummer and founding member, recounts the band's some of the most memorable recent experiences below.

Endless Residency Tour
by Dale Crover

The Melvins did a residency every Friday night last January in Los Angeles. To make each show unique, we decided to play a different record from our ever-growing catalog of releases. It seemed to go over really well, and since we took the time to learn all these records, we decided to take it on the road. Here are some highlights from the "Endless Residency" tour.

Austin Texas: Austin shows are always great, except for the heat. It's 100 degrees out, and of course we're playing outside! The show goes well, but by the end, the "costume" that I'm  wearing feels like a soaking-wet sleeping bag. The next day we meet up with our friends from the band Honky to get lunch. Everyone I know that lives in Austin says that the BBQ downtown is average, and they know where the best is. We drive miles out of town to a place in Spicewood, Texas, called Opie's BBQ. We're greeted by a guy who opens a large trough with 10 different kinds of smoked meat. We let the Honky boys order for us, then sit down to stuff our faces. It was certainly worth the trip, and I highly recommend the spicy corn! After the feast, we stop by Willie Nelson's recording studio. Honky just recorded there. No Willie, but we  got the full tour, including seeing the tape vault with Red Headed Stranger master tapes! I was also highly impressed by the nine-hole golf course next door. Maybe we'll do our next record there!

Chicago: Last time we played the Double Door in Chicago, we were challenged to a Wiffle Ball home-run derby. We've been playing what we call "Hall Ball" for a few years now. The Double Door staff took notice and started their own version. Last year, we clearly won, but they wouldn't have it, so they cheated and claimed victory. Just like the 1919 Chicago Black Socks, who cheated in the World Series! I guess it runs in the family. These guys take their Wiffle Ball games seriously. Star Spangled Banner before the game, announcer/commentator — they even made Double Door Liquor uniforms this year! Unfortunately, we lost! We did end up talking them into letting Buzz [Osborne] pitch to them in the last inning. Fastball, inside: plunk! Fastball, inside: plunk! "Ooops, it got away from me!" We'll get you next year, ya bums!

Brooklyn, NY: Really? We're doing a photo shoot with Mick Rock? Wow! Iggy & the Stooges, Bowie, Queen and now Melvins! Wait a minute? This guy is a full-blown kook! We were warned that he will probably scream obscenities at us while shooting. Sure enough, "Buzz, you cunt, cunt, cunt! Suck it! Suck it! Suck it! Aaaaggghhhhh! Whew! I got off on it, I really did!" "You motherfucker, motherfucker, motherfucker!" Click, click, click. It was like a dirty version of an Austin Powers photo shoot. I was laughing my ass off the whole time! Our bassist, Jared [Warren] was visibly annoyed. "Your Hugh Grant charm isn't quite working for me." "Oh, please! Hugh Grant is a wanker!"  True, if he weren't who he was, we probably wouldn't have tolerated it. It would've been over in about two minutes. Also, we're not ones for embarrassing outdoor photo shoots. You can tell he comes from different times, obviously trying to get some kind of reaction, or whatever. I ended up really liking him. He told us that, at one time, David Bowie would do "anything, and I mean anything!!!!" People like Mick always have great stories.

Things seem to get weirder and weirder the longer we're a band, but fuck it! It beats the hell outta working at a pizza joint!

Wino: "Release Me"

Seventeen years after his first show with Saint Vitus, singer and guitarist Scott “Wino" Weinrich stands on stage performing the songs that help launched a generational flotilla of doom. It's July 1, 2003 at the Double Door in Chicago. The crowd for the only American Saint Vitus reunion show is packed near the stage, but there's standing room at the edges.

Weinrich recalls, "It was cool but also a little bit sad. It took however many years, and we couldn't even sell out the show." Five hundred devoted friends and fans — it's a respectable but modest turnout. After decades of playing to crowds ranging from handfuls to thousands, he still can't fill a medium-size venue.

This shouldn't be a surprise; in fact, it's expected. Weinrich has always been just under the radar, a musician's musician. Over the years, he's collaborated with a gamut of rock legends, including members of Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, and Death. His fans include Henry Rollins, who says, "Scott is one of the heaviest people known to mankind. Just listen to the music; the man matches it well."

Dave Grohl recruited him, along with other celebrated heavy-metal icons, for his Probot project, where Wino contributed vocals for "The Emerald Law" and played guitar in a live version of the band along with Grohl and Motorhead's Lemmy Kilmister. Greg Anderson, who, as a member of Sunn O))) and co-founder of Southern Lord Records, is one of the parties most responsible for the current influx of doom bands, cites Weinrich as an "immeasurable influence. The intensity and passion of his playing are unprecedented. He is not in a class of his own. He is the class and the owner."

Everyone related to heavy music has a Wino story or two, the best of which are off the record. There's a duality about the man — he's well liked, always regarded as a generous, friendly guy, but also known as a fiend, perpetually recovering from one addiction or another. He's the most famous guy in heavy metal of whom you've never heard.

As a teenager, Weinrich helped synthesize the burgeoning DC doom-metal scene of the late 1970s, playing guitar in Warhorse, the band that became The Obsessed. Neither interested in mainstream glam metal nor the counter-culture thrash movement, The Obsessed and other local groups like Pentagram purveyed a slow, bluesy take on psychedelic hard rock.

Despite scant recordings — one eight-and-a-half-minute EP and a single — the band had a tremendous influence across the music underground. Fugazi's Joe Lally briefly lived with the band and remembers, "After Wino became the singer, that's when [the] intention behind his writing became clear to me. When Wino started singing, you really felt, 'Hey, this shit is serious.'" Though his range wasn't as wide as some of his contemporaries, Weinrich was nearly unmatched in his intensity and warm soulfulness. As he honed his musicianship and songwriting skills, he also crystallized an interest in motorcycles, booze, and crack cocaine.

The next several years saw Weinrich play in a number of bands. He moved to LA in 1986 to front rising band Saint Vitus, but after three years decided that he needed to write music on guitar again. He left to reform The Obsessed with new rhythm players, including the Melvins' Dale Crover and Kyuss' Scott Reeder back in Maryland. Paradoxically, his lust for chemicals rarely affected his musical prowess. "Back in the day, people used to ask how I could play so smooth when I was that wired, but you get used to it," Weinrich says. And despite more than the occasional binge, he's kept his friends closer than most.

"Fugazi was touring Germany in the [early] '90s, and I don't remember what city we were in, but between songs I heard someone yell, 'Joe!'" Lally recalls. "It was clearly Wino. After the show, he asked us for a band photo because Hellhound was going to release the first Obsessed record from 1985, and he wanted to include photos of friends. He didn't seem to be too together at the time, and I wasn't sure I'd ever see him again. Still, he carried that photo in the pocket of his leather jacket for the rest of the Saint Vitus tour, and it got on the record sleeve. I was pretty shocked when I saw it there." After The Obsessed parted ways, the mid-'90s ushered in the era of his stoner-doom project, Spirit Caravan.

"I got kind of tired playing in bands full time. It was really starting to become unproductive. At the end of the day, I asked myself, 'Do I really want to do this full time?' I didn't."

In 2002, Weinrich joined The Hidden Hand, his most experimental endeavor to date. Like every Wino trio, this one toured relentlessly, devoted to the ideal of DIY live music. While many players burned and dropped out, Weinrich kept at it, finding fresh musical allies. "When [we were] able to tour with The Hidden Hand, it was one of the high points of playing music for me, period," reflects Mike Scheidt, YOB guitarist/vocalist. "Wino has that killer balance of great songwriting, true heaviness, and honest emotional depth borne from living a hard life and surviving long enough to tell the tale."

Over the years, Weinrich's playing evolved, assimilating more progressive, psychedelic nuances. Politics also infiltrated his lyrics, which previously tended towards philosophical and metaphysical themes. The Hidden Hand disbanded in 2007 after some nasty in-fighting on a European tour, and Weinrich attempted to take a break from music.

"I got kind of tired playing in bands full time," Weinrich admits. "It was really starting to become unproductive. At the end of the day, I asked myself, 'Do I really want to do this full time?' I didn't." These are the kind of thoughts that lead one to record a swan song, but instead, Weinrich started a new project and booked six months of gigs. Jean Paul Gester, an old friend and longtime drummer of Southern rock band Clutch, had other plans. Weinrich says, "We're good friends and had always talked about recording a record someday. Jean Paul was so enthusiastic that it was contagious. It was all the push that I needed [to continue making music]."

The other piece of the puzzle was bassist Jon Blank of DC's Rezin. "I knew that he was good, but I didn't know how good," Weinrich says. "He learned all of the songs so fast, and there was really good chemistry." Given Clutch's tireless touring schedule and Rezin's waxing profile, the real challenge was getting everyone into the jam room and studio. "There wasn't a lot of putting stuff off," Weinrich says. "We knew that we had a time frame, and we did it."

The resultant album, billed simply as Wino and titled Punctuated Equilibrium, was recorded in two sessions, half of the songs at a time. Multi-session records are usually a hodgepodge of sounds or muted by digital normalizing, but that's not the case with this record. The album sounds as if it was recorded live in a practice space. Weinrich says, "This is the best-sounding record yet."

The music is all over the place, spanning the gamut of styles that Weinrich has refined over the years, including doom, blues, hard rock, and psychedelia. Weinrich's relaxed but limber guitar playing makes it sound easy. Punctuated Equilibrium is a twisted mass of tree limbs, each song reaching in one direction only to bend in another. "I think [the album] is vaulting Scott into a new arena," says Bobby Liebling of Pentagram. "There is some incredible ear candy, and he's branching out towards much more diversified material than ever in the past…not to mention the guitar playing, [which is] murderous."

The most ethereal (read: "trippy") song on the record is "Wild Blue Yonder," a six-and-a-half-minute ride on a spaceship. "We went into the studio with just the framework and guitar melody — that's all we had," Weinrich says. The result is an acid-rock freak-out on guitar that's anchored by a relentless bass line and drum work that wrap time signatures around multiple phrases. It's seamless; you'd think these guys had been playing together for years.

Other songs on Punctuated Equilibrium bare the distinct stamp of the accompanists. "One thing about Jean Paul is that he loves crazy timing," Weinrich says."It's fun for me too, especially on songs like 'Eyes of the Flesh' and 'The Gift.'" The latter of these is a bonus track from the extra 10" record. Weinrich says, "I've only ever played it with one other drummer who understood it. Jean Paul and I hammered it out in two or three nights, and Jon learned it in one fucking night." "Eyes of the Flesh," along with other tracks like "Secret Realm Devotion" and "Gods, Frauds, Neo-Cons And Demagogues," showcases Weinrich's uncanny ability to wail out sustained notes and slow bends. Tracks such as "Silver Lining" exemplify his ability to scream melodic leads that don't soil his warm, monolithic guitar tones.

Punctuated Equilibrium is an ambitious and varied record, showcasing musicians at the top of their games, and other musicians have continued to take notice. In April of 2009, Weinrich headlined the 14^th annual Roadburn Festival in Tilberg, Netherlands with a once-again-reunited Saint Vitus.

Meanwhile, an acoustic version of his solo band played South by Southwest in the States. Last January, Weinrich announced yet another new band, Shrinebuilder, an underground-metal supergroup of sorts, featuring Scott Kelly of Neurosis, Al Cisneros of Sleep and Om, and Crover. The group will release an album in September of 2009 and is planning a brief tour. Kelly has commented in interviews that "Wino has been the keystone of this idea from its inception. It wouldn't have been worth doing, and it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been part of it. Lightning." That's to say nothing of Weinrich's rumored electronic project as well as the acoustic affair, Peckerwood. No one can accuse him of being a slouch.

When asked about the last time he had a drink, Weinrich cracks a joke: "Ten minutes ago [writer's note: it's 9 a.m.]…nah, just kidding. I gave up drinking and hard drugs a long time ago." Not that he doesn't knock back a cold one every now and then. As for the cocaine, he's remarkably candid. "It was fucking great — that's why I did it," he says. "It just becomes a lifestyle choice. You have to stay on it, tear apart your house every day, or you live a normal life. There came a point when I just had to live a normal life."

That life includes three kids — Nick (who wants a Moog keyboard), Maxwell (who wants his papa's gold chopper), and Alexandra — as well as an estranged wife, Diana. "I was a stay-at-home dad," Weinrich says. "I raised them from the cradle. Once Diana and I stopped seeing eye to eye, things changed rapidly." When he's not spending time with his kids, hunting down vintage guitar gear, or watching The History Channel, he's struggling to figure out new technology. "I traded a friend of mine for a G4 laptop. I need to figure out that phone thing to talk with the kids while I'm in Europe…Skop?"

Punctuated Equilibrium has had a positive reception with both critics and fans. "It's about timing," Weinrich asserts. "It's always been about timing, and it's never been right for me before. For some strange reason, things are coming together now." He relates his touring schedule — wall-to-wall shows with the Wino project on the road with Clutch, more Saint Vitus reunion shows, Shrinebuilder, and miscellaneous engagements through June 2009. At age 48, 30 years into his career, it's an odd time for a foray as a solo artist, but it's just what Weinrich needs.

"To be honest, this sort of gave me a shot in the arm. I felt like this record made me feel better about things; it made me want to keep playing."

Converge: Axe to Fall (Epitaph)

After nearly 20 years together, unconventional Boston hardcore quartet Converge adds to its eminent catalog with an album that will be one of the best heavy discs of the year.

Immediately, Axe to Fall delivers a heaping dose of full-throttle thrash metal, accelerating through push beats, high-string pull-offs, and double-bass blasts to establish a new tone for the band. "Reap What You Sow" continues the assault with palm-muted speed riffs and squealing solos that wouldn't sound out of place in Metallica's early catalog.

Guitarist/producer Kurt Ballou is at his absolute peak, creating the aforementioned mania and utilizing his usual armaments of dirge riffs, down-tuned chugging, and morose melodies. Additionally, the group's stream of one-off guest musicians continues to widen, this time sweeping guitarist Steve Von Till (Neurosis), vocalist Mookie Singerman (Genghis Tron), and three-quarters of Cave In (guitarists Stephen Brodsky and Adam McGrath and drummer JR Conners) into compelling cameos.

Ultimately, Axe to Fall makes its case to be Converge's best album. But whether or not you agree, it's another reflection of Converge at the top of its game, crushing listeners will full-bodied hardcore that isn't afraid to bust out an acoustic guitar, piano, and glockenspiel for a track.

Russian Circles: Geneva (Suicide Squeeze)

Striking a balance between the relentless riffage of Enter (Flameshovel, 2006) and the melodious restraint of Station (Suicide Squeeze, 2008), Geneva showcases a maturity of instrumental rock trio Russian Circles through complete creations — songs that equally call upon sheer beauty, ascending tension, and caustic force.

It’s not as voracious as the band’s debut, but Geneva retains a dynamic vibe through rhythmic heaviness, much of which comes via new bassist Brian Cook. A current member of These Arms are Snakes, Cook makes his “debut” on Geneva, making his presence immediately felt with a worming bass groove on album opener “Fathom.”

Cook is but one key addition to the band’s repertoire; adjunct instruments, generally stringed, augment and guide much the album’s material.

These chordophones accentuate three of the album’s first four tracks, and they lead the first five minutes of “Philos,” a 10-minute epic that closes Geneva in ruminative fashion. Just prior, distant horns utter a wordless lamentation on the album’s penultimate track, “When the Mountain Comes to Muhammad.”

In retrospect, Geneva should mark the pivot point for the band's career — a moment that marks both the band’s musical maturity and its arrival as a major player in independent rock.

Shrinebuilder: s/t (Neurot)

Consisting of guitarist Scott Kelly (Neurosis), guitarist Scott “Wino” Weinrich (Saint Vitus), bassist Al Cisneros (Om), and drummer Dale Crover (Melvins), this highly anticipated project is a four-piece heavy-psych super group that holds long-lasting intentions.

As one might imagine based on the members’ current and former bands, Shrinebuilder is based on brief, cyclical riffs that are topped with swirling effects. These give way to fuller, meditative breakdowns, which frequently revert back to mid-tempo stoner-metal wizardry.

Each member contributes vocals, which range from semi-spoken to distant, harmonic, and gruff. These different vocal styles help to individualize each track, which might otherwise run together via similarities in style and duration.

“Pyramid of the Moon” combines hymnal harmonies, high-pitched guitar synchronizations, über-echoed vocals, and a warbling synth sound into a dreamy blend. We could proclaim it to be the best selection of this five-tune full-length, but the album’s final track, “Science of Anger,” only comes with the full retail version of the album – available today.

Honorable mentions:

The Black Heart Procession: Six (Temporary Residence)
Fuck Buttons: Tarot Sport (ATP)
OOIOO: Armonico Hewa (Thrill Jockey)
Sufjan Stevens: The BQE (Asthmatic Kitty)
Themselves: CrownsDown (Anticon)

Supermachiner, the haunting, mostly instrumental side project from Converge members Jacob Bannon and Kurt Ballou, will soon have its complete 30-track, two-disc collection, Rust, available through Deathwish Inc. Listen to a few tracks here.

Big Business has announced the release of its new album, Mind the Drift, for April on Hydra Head. Listen to a new track, "Gold and Final," on the group's MySpace page.

Japanese post-rockers Mono have a new album, Hymn to the Immortal Wind, being released on March 24 on Temporary Residence. The album boasts guest contributions from a 28-member orchestra.

Seven Signs, the Southern culture documentary by J.D. Wilkes of Th' Legendary Shack Shakers, is now available on DVD.

Following the release of Old Money via Stones Throw on January 26, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez takes his group to Europe in March. Click here for a list of dates.

A new alt-metal super-group called Shrinebuilder is recording a debut album for Neurot Recordings, due this summer. The group consists of Wino (The Hidden Hand), Scott Kelly (Neurosis), Al Cisneros (Om, Sleep), and Dale Crover (Melvins) and will be in the studio with Toshi Kasai (Big Business).

Orange Tulip Conspiracy, the exceptional multi-genre new group led by Estradasphere guitarist Jason Schimmel, will play a full US tour in May. If you're involved in setting up shows, you can help Schimmel fill in dates — head here for details.

Grandaddy singer/songwriter Jason Lytle has a solo debut album, Yours Truly, being release on Anti- on May 19.

Finger-tapping indie-rock specialist Kaki King is playing a "solo guitar and no other bullshit tour" in California from January 21-31. Head here for the dates.

Post-rock/jam keyboardist Marco Benevento plays a weekly residency in February at Yoshi's in Oakland in the middle of a handful of other West Coast dates. During the stint, Benevento will be joined by special guests that include Scott Amendola, Billy Martin, Reed Mathis, Jeff Parker, and Skerik.

California math-rock trio Tera Melos has a new EP of cover songs available to download for free. Band member Nick Reinhart also has new band with drumming wiz Zach Hill, called Bygones, that has a debut album set for release in March on Sargent House.

Starting today, the new Cattle Decapitation album, The Harvest Floor, is streaming in its entirety on buzzgrinder.com. The stream will run through January 19.

Thrash/punk four-piece Trash Talk has announced a handful of shows that span Japan, California, and Georgia (the state). The shows include performances with Fucked Up, Pig Destroyer, Converge, Torche, Mastodon, and Neurosis.

Hardcore tough guys Hatebreed have posted a cover of Sepultura's "Refuse/Resist" on their MySpace page. The cover is included in the soundtrack to Punisher: War Zone.

"We're ugly, weird-looking guys. Cobain had that wounded junkie look, which, for some unknown reason, women and MTV think is really cool. All those guys do. Bowie. Jagger. Skinny, wounded junkie look. We were too weird, too big. If Kurt Cobain had been the size of Rose Greer, and the same color, nobody would have given a shit."

So the Melvins—who don’t look much like either Cobain or Greer, but who are, true enough, unlikely poster boys—have traveled rock’s other road, flirting occasionally with wider recognition, pulling briefly into the peripheral limelight of Cobain’s stardom and flameout, playing to small but fervent crowds, and touring Econo, to borrow their spiritual brother Mike Watt’s phrase.

“When you decide that you’re going to do this, and you know that the powers that be—MTV, TV in general, or radio—are not going to be there for you, you have figure out plan B,” Buzz says, adding as he laughs, “whatever that is.” The Melvins earn their rent on tour, gain their popularity by word of mouth, and live a more common but no less appreciated version of the rock and roll dream. And they have survived. They are, if we insist on setting them up in opposition to the Men Who Made Aberdeen Famous, the tortoise to Nirvana’s strung-out and deeply conflicted hare. They were around before Nirvana—Cobain in fact was a big fan and an occasional roadie—and they’re still here, long after Nirvana has gone.

“Guys I talk to say, ‘Aren’t you tired of doing the rock thing? Don’t you ever want to do something else?’” says Buzz. “Well, no. And do what? A&R? No thanks. I’ll keep going.”

When the dust settles, as it rarely does for the Melvins, they come into focus as a duo: drummer Dale Crover and Buzz have become the steady core of the band, anchoring the weirdness since Dale joined in the mid-eighties. Songwriting falls almost exclusively to Buzz, but Dale has enjoyed, over the years, critical praise bordering on worship for his drumming—his “astonishing,” “daring,” “pick your positive adjective” drumming.

"We're ugly, weird-looking guys. Cobain had that wounded junkie look, which, for some unknown reason, women and MTV think is really cool. All those guys do. Bowie. Jagger. Skinny, wounded junkie look. We were too weird, too big. If Kurt Cobain had been the size of Rose Greer, and the same color, nobody would have given a shit."

They’re no-nonsense guys; they’ve been around the block and around the world; they’ve played your town. They like playing the Birminghams and the Pocatellos of the circuit. “No one plays those places, so when you come to town, the people get so hyped,” says Dale. “Things get weird.”

They’re from the grassroots side of rock: don’t ask for handouts, don’t whine, and don’t sell out. Buzz can sound almost libertarian, showing his roots as an old-school, get-in-the-van artist. “Socialism is fascism,” he says. “Somebody’s taking your money and giving it to someone else. You would never stand for that in any other area of your life. I’m not into it. I’m into true liberalism, which means you mind your own goddamn business; you take care of yourself.” (It occurs to me at this point that my father might really like Buzz Osborne.) There’s a pragmatism that shows through in most of their opinions. “The internet downloading—people need to get over it,” says Buzz. “Is it stealing? Sure, yeah—but it doesn’t matter. It’s over. Things have changed. We have to move on.”

When something comes their way—like a recording contract from Atlantic during the who’s-the-next-Nirvana sweepstakes of 1991/1992—they’ll grab hold and enjoy, but they won’t forget who they are. “That was a great contract,” says Buzz. “I’d sign that contract again today.” Atlantic didn’t seem to know quite what they had on their hands. They didn’t try to force anything out of the Melvins that was against their nature, but they seemed baffled by what they received—the albums Houdini, Stoner Witch, and Stag—and they refused to release one of the Melvins’ more idiosyncratic offerings, Prick. (Prick was released on Amphetamine Reptile.) All of the Melvins’ suggestions for marketing were ignored. “You can’t market us like you would the Foo Fighters—it won’t work,” says Dale. “We had plenty of ideas, but…”

Still, they remain skeptical of artists that blame too much on major labels. “Bands talk about their labels making them sell out. No, they didn’t,” says Buzz. “Nobody made you do anything. Nobody had a gun to your head. You wanted to be a big rock star. That’s what you wanted.” Dale adds, “Even the Nirvana guys, with their ‘corporate rock sucks’ T-shirts—they wanted to sell millions of records, no doubt about it.”

Questions of ‘selling out’ have long since moved into irrelevance for the Melvins; they’re not at all conflicted. They’re in the game, but they make their own music. Fans scratched their heads over their willingness to design a pair of Nikes, but why? “If somebody wants to take what we’re doing and apply it to Nike, I’m all over it! Like, Coca-Cola – if they want to use one of our songs, you better believe it! Absolutely! We’re the right people to be involved in all those things!” says Buzz.

(On first glance, it does seem an unlikely collaboration: Nike usually picks the clear winners, those with measurable achievements, and the Melvins seem more Earl ‘The Goat’ Manigault than Michael Jordan. That particular comparison falters in a crucial way, though: there’s nothing tragic, self-defeating, or sloppy about the Melvins. In the music industry, the story is often backwards. The tragic ones hit the limelight, sell millions, and die, and the workers keep working. It’s one of the only arenas where self-destructive tendencies build your resume; they make a killer promo-sheet back-story. Your music is fantastic but you’re responsible? And…kind of lumpy-looking? Hmmm. Who’s your blonde friend there with the needle hanging out of his arm? We like him.)

So, armed with a healthy sense of humor, a sharp business sense, and a tremendous work ethic, the Melvins have soldiered on. Are they radio-friendly? Well, not so much early on; they had nothing like those “More than A Feeling”/“Smells Like Teen Spirit” hooks. (Note: that’s the same hook. There s nothing wrong with stealing ideas, and Cobain himself admitted it was a clichéd riff, but still Boston? How cool can Nirvana ever be when you hear the traces of Boston so clearly in their huge hit?)

What the Melvins had was the basic framework for grunge/sludge: slow metal. “They were the first band I saw with space in their songs,” says longtime fan and current member Coady Willis. “They were weird and diabolical. It was just much more badass than a million notes a minute.” In the simplest sense, that’s what the Melvins have meant to popular music: they gargled back some Black Sabbath and spit out a series of riff-heavy albums and shows to appreciative fans in (of course) flannel shirts. Eventually (let’s not give them sole credit) grunge happened, and the ultimate consequence, in a roundabout way, might be that you’re drinking Starbucks coffee while you read this.

What they’re famous for, aside from their Nirvana connections and their sludge-hammer sound, is a bizarre sense of humor and a willingness to experiment that has been, probably, their biggest impediment to wider commercial success. They have gone so far out at times—with albums like the goofy pastiche of Prick or the wall of noise on The Colossus of Destiny—that they’ve been accused of intentionally alienating audiences, which they deny. But it’s true that just about every Melvins album has something you definitely want to hear and something that you could most likely live without. They’ve always been a touch too difficult—too much sand in the Vaseline—to write what their fans feel is their due, always puncturing their virtuoso musicianship with outright oddness to no discernible purpose. And so they’ve been labeled perverse. But they’ve also never burned out, shot themselves, or stagnated and faded away. So who’s perverse? And as for intentionally alienating, Buzz says, “No, that means they really don’t have any idea what we do then. No concept. You make music out of the influences you have, whatever they may be. If people don’t think that’s what we’re doing, they’re missing the boat.”
They’ve shed yet another bass player (Kevin Rutmanis), “for a wide variety of reasons, none of which are very complimentary,” says Buzz. “The usual rock and roll shit,” adds Dale. To fill that slot, because nothing about the Melvins is simple or predictable, they brought in an entire second band, melding with rhythm duo Big Business to become a double-drum, bass, and lead guitar four-piece. Their first product in this form, 2006’s (A) Senile Animal, was a truly unusual thing: a late career critical success.

“Everyone always says, ‘It’s our best album yet’—but I think it is,” says Buzz. In this case, the band is not alone; the general word on (A) Senile Animal was positive, with re-birth, resurgence, and revitalization being the words of the day. The collaboration has been viewed as a bizarre triumph—bizarre because it’s a doubledrum (and sometimes double-vocal) attack and triumphant because it works and is great fun. “And I like [our new] one even better. It’s weirder,” says Buzz, speaking of their upcoming release, Nude with Boots.

What they have on the new record, that often is forgotten amidst their shuffling lineups, their irreverent attitude, and their experimentation, is rock: fun, loud, skillful rock. Nude with Boots (after enough exposure to the Melvins, you don’t even blink at the title) is not simple, but it is easy to like. It doesn’t sound like classic rock, but it has riffs—real, immediate, long hair, Wayne’s World riffs—that do sound classic. And they’re not wasting those double-drums; they’re clearly enjoying having them in the arsenal.

The Melvins get the words “challenging” and “experimental” thrown at them more often than anyone since Matthew Barney, so it’s a quick jolt to hear the opening notes of “The Kicking Machine” and have it feel more like head nodding than brow furrowing. They may not land that Coca-Cola endorsement, but it’s easy to imagine a track like “The Smiling Cobra” finding its way onto a Fast and the Furious Pt. 8 soundtrack. But don’t take my word for it. Take theirs: “Our records are great. They’re better than most. Most bands don’t make records that are anywhere near as good as ours. That’s what I think or I wouldn’t be doing it. They’re all top notch, A-number-one—all American cool groovy. The kids should love it. It should be required listening…for the whole world.”

"Our records are great…They're all top-notch, A-number one, all-American cool, groovy. The kids should love it. It should be required listening…for the whole world."

The world is coming around. With the passage of time, their Atlantic-era albums, in particular Houdini, have gained recognition as underrated classics of the grunge era. Most casual fans know the Melvins for one of these three records, which are only a tiny slice of their wide-ranging, ever-growing oeuvre. The sheer number of albums at this point is impressive (16? 17? Plus a coffee-table book!) Steady output is something they value: Buzz, a self-professed film geek, admires directors who were not only good but could keep cranking it out: “Fassbinder, what did he make? Forty films? And before he turned forty? That’s impressive. I’ve never had writer’s block; I’ve never understood the idea that people can’t come up with stuff. There’s usually something else going on. They’re lazy, or they’re drinking vodka and doing blow. One of those two things usually stands in the way. I mean, Jesus Christ, if John Huston pushing seventy can make a goddamn movie in a wheelchair with a breathing machine, then I can make a goddamn record at forty. It’s not that hard,” he laughs.

The Melvins have morphed themselves gradually, finally, album by album, from trivia tidbit to granddaddies of rock history. Maybe. Or maybe what they’ve done is less grandiose; they’ve just kept working. “People say, ‘How is it possible after all these years that you’re making such good music?’ I don’t know,” shrugs Buzz. “I still give a shit.” The truth is that when a band/artist has held this position for this long—name-checked by others but rarely the story themselves—we want them to succeed. We want Hasil Adkins, Jonathan Richman, and the Melvins to emerge triumphant from a long, dark time of obscurity. They eventually graduate from any suspicions of ‘sell-out,’ and we just want a little recognition for the work. We want them to join forces with a band like Big Business and release two of the best albums of their career, and then we want people to pay attention. But the lesson the band has for us is always the same zen knowledge from their side of the stage: they’re in it for the music. The rest is silliness.

- Tom Vale