MELVINS

For one of the most influential acts in the history of American Rock music, it’s all in a day’s work.

Approaching Melvins’ dressing room, there’s a sudden wash of anxiousness. We almost stumble up the stairs as the leadweight of 30 years, 20 albums, and one of the most influential careers in all of alternative rock music presses down on our shoulders.

Settling in front of the group’s core members, drummer Dale Crover and guitarist/vocalist Buzz Osbourne – known on occasion as King Buzzo – doesn’t make things any easier; being able to literally hear it as Buzz draws his fingers through that iconically wiry, silver hair. The number of remarkable riffs and rhythms, like meathooks to the gut wrenching you into their midst, to have poured out of them. These individuals have indelibly marked the face of music, forever. As much as they trivialise their influence as just ‘a job’ – always with that sardonic sense of humour – it cannot be ignored. These are careerists, in the best possible sense. ‘Lifers’ would be a less becoming, but more appropriate tag. Being Melvins, consistently making music which is both euphoric and unapologetically grotesque – snarling hardcore, slugging sludge metal, floating fuzz majesty and disarming bursts of melody – is what they do. From their confrontational 1987 debut Gluey Porch Treatments, to their genre-forming deceleration circa ’91/’92’s Bullhead and Lysol, throughout the grunge boom-and-bust, their persistently challenging late 90s output, and the stunning trio of records which followed the employment of the massively-established-in-their-own-right Seattle sluggers Big Business as a source of rhythmic heft, being a Melvins fan is a lifetime commitment in itself.

This month the band embarked on their Endless Residency tour of Europe, playing two dates at venues in Berlin, Paris, Vienna, Zurich, London and Bristol, performing seminal early/mid-90s albums Bullhead, Lysol, Houdini, Stoner Witch, and the Eggnog EP in their entirety. As Dale explains, it was an idea devised around their own touring preferences. “We did a residency in Los Angeles a couple of years ago in the wintertime, because we don’t like touring in winter. We did one show a weekend for a month, and we figured we could do another record each week. It was a genius plan at work, because everyone came back, every time.” It’s curious timing to revisit such a fruitful period in the band’s existence, when it might be said they’re in the midst of a particularly hot streak right now. Since taking on Big Business, Melvins’ output has been phenomenal, truly among their best. 2006’s (A) Senile Animal, 2008’s Nude WIth Boots, and The Bride Screamed Murder from 2010 radiate the abandon and individualism on which the band have always thrived, with a newfound vigour and immediacy. “I like what we’re doing now better, but if people don’t like this show, they can be reassured that we won’t do it again!” exclaims Buzz. “If you wanna see it, we’re not doing it again. Unless someone pays us a LOT of money.”

There’s something apparent in the records chosen for this retrospective of a mythologised 90s heyday; that the period in question coincides with Melvins’ time on a major label. Snapped up from Californian indie imprint Boner Records in the post-Nirvana worldwide grunge free-for- all, this seemingly mainstream-averse band found themselves located at Atlantic, for whom they recorded their most commercially successful album, Houdini, as well as Stoner Witch and the at points peculiarly approachable Stag. But according to Buzz, that period was business as usual. “I would say it didn’t change anything”, he states. “We never thought the major label thing would work, we never expected to sell a lot of records, so what I wanted to do was continue making records that I liked.” It’s clear that, even at the time, he accepted they’d been signed in a cynical act of bandwagon-fucking. “I thought they’d dump us after the first record, but we did three. I’d have stayed there the whole time, it didn’t bother me.” Since 1999 the band have found an almost exclusive home at Mike Patton’s Ipecac Recordings, though this is very much a rolling agreement between friends, and occasional colleagues in the freeform metal onslaught of Fantômas. “It’s not like we’re signed to any kind of legally-binding contract”, stresses Buzz. “I wouldn’t sign a contract with anyone, unless it was for a shit-load of money.” As ever, Melvins’ ethical approach is far from black and white. While they’re at least partly informed by the fervently independent mentality of 80s hardcore, the band make no apologies for signing for a major, and if it worked for them, would do so again.

“I’m not sure what ethics you mean”, mutters Buzz. But we’re ardent such a mentality – rightly or wrongly – exists. We’re not alone. Michael Azerrad’s definitive Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground 1981-1991 is a case in point. The book places an innate value in the separation between independent and major labels, citing Greg Ginn of Black Flag’s SST imprint as the ultimate in an underground, subversive reaction to the grimly materialistic musical profiteering of Corporate America. His accounts of 13 bands focuses solely on their indie periods, stating firmly that, for the likes of major label defectors Sonic Youth, “once they went to a major label, an important connection to the underground was invariably lost”. It’s a sentiment echoed by Steve Albini, who stated of Sonic Youth in a 2010 GQ interview “they should be embarrassed about it”. But Buzz is immediate, emphatic in his rejection of such stigma.

“That’s ridiculous”, he spits. “Look, some of the best records of all time came out on majors, especially when you look at the 70s and early 80s. I mean, would I not listen to the Gang of Four Solid Gold record because it was on Warner Bros.? Would I deny myself the first two Elvis Costello records? Would I? The Sex Pistols, The Ramones? Would I not listen to those? Talking Heads, The Dead Boys? I’ve never had a problem with that. There’s not enough good music to get picky about labels. To me, there’s so few bands, I’ll take it where I can get it.”

Suitably chastised, we move on to the current trend for high-profile band reunions. From Soundgarden, to The Stooges, to Melvins’ label boss Mike Patton’s Faith No More, to most recently of all, two rival subdivisions of ‘Black Flag’, a growing number of legendary bands seem to be finding a miraculous second wind at the prospect of a festival headline slot. “There are millions of reasons those bands do that,” laughs Buzz. “Millions, literally! But it never bothers me. We’re just talking about music, we’re not talking about anything massively important. It’s art. Art is part of life, it’s not everything about it. And y’know, if you wanted to see The Jesus Lizard and you were too young to go, then it’s nice that you can see that, right? Why should you suffer? Cause somebody else thinks it’s stupid for them to reform?”

Surely one disadvantage of Melvins’ stubborn refusal to divert from their chosen path is the absence of that lucrative reformation tour. “Yeah, we missed out on that”, grins Dale. Through numerous line-up changes (the band are on their sixth bassist at the last count), since Dale replaced original drummer Mike Dillard a year after the band’s genesis, the core has remained as concrete and unyielding as one of Buzz’s colossal chugs. Yet still, even in this seemingly immovable construct, the addition of Big Business in 2006 was of considerable significance. We can still vividly recall our first experience of the merging of forces at Roadburn festival in Tillburg, Holland, way back in 2007. As the heroically engorged assault of Jarred Warren and Coady Willis drew to a close, Buzz and Dale strode onstage. The left-handed Willis and the right-handed Crover formed a flawless mirror image of pure, clubbing impact behind their merging kits, while the two man-mountains at stage front swayed through the most intoxicating grooves we’d ever heard. In our mushroom-addled condition we were entranced, blown away. It was the most powerful thing we had ever witnessed, and we’ve never forgotten it.

“After the last bass player Kevin (Rutmanis) left we were pretty bummed out”, confides Buzz. “We weren’t that excited about starting over. But it was great to have that energy. They were very excited and happy to be in the band, and we were too.” But despite reaching a position of such relatively established comfort – or perhaps because of it – Melvins refused to remain constant. On the evening we speak they are preparing for a first Bristol show under their new incarnation, Melvins Lite, a collaboration with upright bass player Trevor Dunn. The trio released Freak Puke last year. “I played with Trevor for a long time in Fantômas”, explains Buzz. “I saw him with Nels Cline where he played stand-up bass through an amp, and I thought ‘that’s something we should do.’” It’s an album which can be aurally challenging, particularly for those not accustomed to the at turns droning and jazz-inflected tones of an upright cutting through the guitar mulch. “We didn’t want to make a standard record”, insists Buzz, “when we had the stand-up bass, we wanted to make sure it was out there in full.”

For their latest recorded output, Melvins have also taken a suitably abstract deviation from the template with their first ever full covers album. Entitled Everybody Loves Sausages, it features versions of songs by The Kinks, David Bowie, Venom, The Jam and, believe it or not, Queen’s You’re My Best Friend. Pressing play with a degree of reticence, their rendition is a plinking 8-bit workout, with solo firmly intact. “I know, wimpier than Queen!” exclaims Buzz. We can’t fail to notice a considerable amount of songs by British artists on the record (“Complete coincidence”), and the band do seem to be spending a lot of time in these parts of late. In fact, by the end of the Endless Residency they will have played five shows in Bristol alone in around 18 months. “Well, the thing is we store all of our equipment in Bristol”, grins Buzz, his gold tooth catching the light through the grimy window. “It’s our favourite crappy town in the UK”, suggests Dale.

While it may sound brash, what they say is pure pragmatism. Melvins aren’t here to admire the scenery, they’re not here to succumb to the temptations of the road. They’re here to play incredible, sell-out shows. Being Melvins is their job. This is a band who attempted to enter the Guinness Book of Records last year for the fastest ever tour of the US, playing all 50 states and Washington D.C in 51 days (whether or not it’s a record is still under debate from blues cartoon George Thorogood, who claims to have accomplished it in a day less in the 80s). And after the Endless Residency, this summer they head off on a 30th Anniversary tour across America. “It’s all I want to do”, says Buzz. “Playing live is easier than any other job I ever had. I’ve only ever had shit jobs, that’s it. I’ve never had a good job, not once. In the 80s all I ever had were shit, minimum wage jobs where you took orders from a halfwit. Honestly, this is not a big deal. And you’ve got to remember, when you’re talking about musicians, you’re talking about the laziest, stupidest people in the world!”

After 30 years, being a Melvin is the best job King Buzzo and Dale Crover have ever had. No bullshit, no empty platitudes here. They’re two guys who are very good at a very good job. Melvins are still just takin’ care of business.

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Everybody Loves Sausages is out now via Ipecac Recordings.

melvins.com

Words: Geraint Davies

Photo: Mackie Osborne