FFWD Weekly
Copyright © 2000. All Rights Reserved
Music
by Mary-Lynn McEwenThe Melvins
The Warehouse
Sunday, May 21If the story you are about to read makes punkernative undergods The Melvins sound like assholes on a platter, there’s something you gotta know first: When the band last graced this city in 1991 at the legendary Westward Club, they antagonized the audience with a mono-drone sacrifice until they literally kicked out the jams, who walked out one by one until the audience was reduced to a third. Then, The Melvins gave a staggering demonstration in music’s diverse graces to the anti-jams that had the courage to stay.
When the show was over, guitarist Buzz did a quick bout of mental math and figured out that the club had likely lost a little money on the performance. When promoter Wes Hegg confirmed that the club had lost $100 but that’s showbiz, Buzz and co. refused to vacate the premises until Hegg took $100 from them. It was a precondition, they claimed, of them ever agreeing to play in town again. So if they’re assholes, they’re assholes with class – classholes.
The bell that rings on the phone may as well be the bell that signals the start of a verbal boxing match if you’re talking to these veterans of staying true. If you want FAQs about the band, go look on the Internet. If you wanna know the results of the chemistry experiment that’s kept a top-notch trio of musicians on the road for 17 years without ever providing them with enough money to buy a glass house, keep reading.
"I’m not afraid of nothing. Nothing. Take it as you will. Nothing can kill me. I’m like a cockroach. I’m never gonna die," Buzz comes out swinging within moments of the start of the interrogation.
Interesting take for a guy who once had a roadie named Kurt Cobain.
The band’s newest album, The Crybaby, features everything from Leif Garret singing "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to Hank Williams III singing his grandfather’s "Ramblin’ Man" to appearances by the Jesus Lizard’s David Yow, Helmet’s Henry Bogdan, and Tool. Trying to get the undiluted story on how they hooked up with any of these guys is quite a dance.
Take Hank Williams III: "Met him in Nashville, Tennessee. That’s in the lower 48 of the U.S. In America, we don’t learn anything about Canada. I don’t even know who’s running your country. I don’t know nothing about it. I also don’t know who’s running Mexico, so who cares?
"(Hank) was for some reason interested in our band. Maybe he thought if he hung out with us he’d get a lot of pussy," Buzz continues, putting a little emphasis on the word "pussy," obviously baiting. When I mention Hank knocked up a vice cop’s daughter and likely didn’t need to be a pussy parasite, the reply is quick. "How do you know we didn’t set him up with her?" Then, "I’m not a pimp. What are you trying to say, I’m a pimp?"
Me: "What, are you saying he pays for pussy?"
"As far as you know, he doesn’t," comes the lilting reply. "Everybody pays for it one way or another. Even girls who get paid for it, maybe you pay for it with your soul."
A comment from me is met with, "I’ve never heard a high school teacher using the kind of language you’re using! What, Shakespeare actually wrote the word ‘bullshit’? I’m kidding! I’m trying to get a reaction out of you!"
I reflect on my life, including having a knife pulled on me at 3 a.m. while driving a taxi as a teenager, having my eight-year marriage terminated when my spouse overdosed and died, and teaching at a series of high-needs high schools where a hearty "Fuck you!" from a student no longer even causes a blip in my blood pressure, then ask, "What do you usually do to journalists to get a good reaction out of them?"
Buzz: "Nothing. Most journalists are crap. They don’t take their jobs seriously."
In response to the fact that this is rock ’n’ roll and taking it seriously is its death knell, Buzz jabs: "Well, if you wanna have a frivolous attitude towards your work!"
When asked why he’s bothering to talk to me, he tells me he’s using me. Jeez, and he’s the one telling me that girls who fornicate for money are selling their souls! The whole conversation’s a laugh riot.
But actually, it has its moments, especially when the guitarist talks about other bands.
"Most people who are in bands are a bunch of fucking assholes. It sucks. Wah, wah, wah! We better call the wahm-bulance. I’d rather listen to myself taking a shit than listening to most of their music. That would be far more interesting," he says, conceding that he listens to the Latin Playboys and Los Lobos when he has a chance.
"(But if they make a lot of money) I can’t be crybabyin’ about that shit. I could bitch and complain all day about stupid rock bands making more money than me. It doesn’t put any money in my pocket. My job is to make music that I like. If other people like it, so be it. If not, they can kiss my ass. And they will!
"People die, ’cept for me. I’ve done it all, and I’m still kicking. That’s because I’ve got the swaggering bravado of a crack-smoking guttersnipe."
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