Release Date: April 19, 2024
Label: Ipecac Recordings
Length: 39:46
Produced By: Melvins, Toshi Kasai
Rating: 6.9
Review by: Alexander Hellene
Highlights: “Allergic to Food,” “Smiler”
The loudest concert I ever went to was the Melvins at the Middle East in Boston in 2002 on the tour for their fourteenth album Hostile Ambient Takeover. They were a three-piece then, guitarist/vocalist Roger “Buzz” or “King Buzzo” Osborne and drummer Dale Crover with Kevin Rutmanis, formerly of the Cows,1 in the band’s revolving-door bass spot. They were fantastic. Osborne and Rutmanis wore black muumuus, one with a big, red letter F and the other with a big, red letter U. Crover had on black briefs. That’s it. He walked on stage with his drumsticks sheathed in those briefs’ waistband and whipped them out when it was time to play. After the show, he tossed the sticks into the audience. No one really made a grab for them.2
My ears roared for three days straight. Not rang; roared. Like the ocean, or an angry beast. It was painful but worth it.
That’s the Melvins in a nutshell. For over forty years now they’ve equal parts thrilling and infuriating. The true godfathers of grunge, Kurt Cobain’s idols, and masters of sludge, Osborn, Crover, and whomever is handling the low-end, possess a macabre cheeky streak that likes to do the opposite of what is expected of them. Everyone else is playing fast? Let’s play slow. Underground bands are going commercial? Let’s grab that major-label cash and keep making weird music. And so on.
That unhealthy volume, that true wall-of-sound, has been a large part of the Melvin’s’ appeal. No matter how experimental or maddening their music can be, no matter who’s on bass, no matter if their playing with two drummers or one, or collaborating with fellow weirdos like Jello Biafra and Lustmord, recording cover albums, or going acoustic (seriously), it always has that core of supremely, bone-crushingly heavy, rock. The band’s 27th album, Tarantula Heart, does little to deviate from this template, providing five more Melvins songs that sound like Melvins songs.
Yes, they’re joined this time by Steven Shane McDonald (Redd Kross, OFF!) who’s been playing bass for the Melvins since 2016, drummer Ray Mayorga,3 and guitarist Gary Chester. Yes, their songwriting process was different this time around. Quoth the band:
“The way we approached Tarantula Heart was different than any other Melvins’ album,” says the band’s Buzz Osborne. “I had Dale and Roy Mayorga come in and play along with Steven and I to some riffs, then I took those sessions and figured out what parts would work and wrote new music to fit. This isn’t a studio approach we’ve ever taken. Usually we have the songs written BEFORE we start recording!”
“The majority of Tarantula Heart has dual drum parts,” adds drummer Dale Crover. “Roy is an amazing drummer. We would discuss what we would do pattern wise, then we’d just go for it. Improvising riffs and trading off on drum fills.”
Adds bassist Steven McDonald (also of Redd Kross), “An album so magical, I helped create it without knowing it was happening. It’s definitely the weirdest album I’ve ever been a part of.”
All that might be true, but you’d never know it from listening to Tarantula Heart save that the songs sound a little underwritten, like the product of jams, which, if you read the quoted passage above, is pretty much what they are.
This does not make them bad! Tarantula Heart is more enjoyable madness and a testament to Osborne’s creativity—does the man ever run out of riffs? If the Melvins are anything, it’s consistent, and that is impressive even if Tarantula Heart breaks no new ground. It doesn’t burnish their already sizable legacy, but it doesn’t tarnish it either. The album gives you more of what you come to expect from the Melvins, which is not damning with faint praise but highly welcome. And since there are only five songs here, how about we talk about them in order.
Opener “Pain Equals Funny” is the most experimental of the lot, clocking in at over 19 minutes. It begins with guitar feedback and some synthy noise courtesy of Mr. Mayorga, and you wonder, is this going to be another lengthy sound collage a la Colossus of Destiny? But no: McDonald’s bass soon enters, followed by a choppy riff played in octaves that gives off a classic rock feel. Osborne’s constipated grunt provides the narration of some bizarre tale that comes off like cross-state crime or something. Who knows? The Melvins’ lyrics are less about specifics and more about impression, setting the mood. This is no different.
However, the song does not continue in this vein, giving way after five minutes to a drumbeat straight out of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)” over which the band plays a deliciously groovy two-note sludge riff with ambient sounds adding interest. And we’re not even halfway through.
Alas, “Pain Equals Funny” continues like this, moving through four distinct sections with no real connection or transition. The noise section isn’t too long, and the last riff has cool bends at the end of each phrase, but it all says nothing in particular, no unifying theme. It’s just, “Here are a bunch of cool riffs and chord progressions we stuck together.” That’s not a dig. This is the Melvins. You listen for the sounds and the palpable physical sensation of heavy music played well, of deft left-field turns; you don’t listen for any sort of truth.
As usual, the band sounds fantastic. Osborn’s guitars have an appealing low-end rumble, McDonald’s bass adds heft without getting lost in the mix, and Crover (one of rock’s hardest-hitters) and Mayorga sound massive, playing close enough in lockstep to sound like one big four-armed beast. They get by on this vibe, pulling everything off with a sense of disciplined looseness always threatening to go off the rails, which helps sell Tarantula Heart because the songs are rather half-baked.
“Working the Ditch” is an old-school Melvins mid-tempo stomper that doesn’t go anywhere but grooves along with plodding grace. The drums spice things up in the latter half, which helps because this isn’t a song, and the Melvins don’t engage in “songwriting” per se. But when you’re driving down the highway at night with this rumbling riff pounding your skull, it doesn’t matter. Volume is the healing power of rock, which the Melvins wield like shamans.
Every song has some hook going for it. “She’s Got Weird Arms” has a similar tempo to “Working the Ditch,” but is more playful, with an off-kilter jittery main riff that brings to mind skittering insects, and some wonderfully out-of-tune guitar harmonies during the, verse evoking a queasy seasick feeling; I also enjoy Osborne’s village idiot vocal delivery on this one.
“Allergic to Food”4 is a welcome change of pace, an up-tempo rager with furious drums and a jagged, tumultuous riff with a slick turnaround, a more straightforward, hyper “Black Dog.” Saving the most-fleshed out for last, “Smiler” features the sort of down-tuned riff the Smashing Pumpkins liked to play around with, but we know who did it first. Great dynamics, absolutely massive drums, a cool horror-movie vibe, and what’s this? A B section? And a squealing, tortured guitar solo? Sign me up!
And then it’s over. Like most of the songs on here, Tarantula Heart ends without making much of a statement, but it does make an impression. If these are the kinds of albums the Melvins will be putting out as they enter into senior citizendom, fans should consider it a blessing. To still be cranking out gargantuan riffs, massive grooves at this late stage of the game is impressive and should be commended; even when they’re not particularly groundbreaking, the Melvins are never boring.
Tarantula Heart
Pain Equals Funny
Working the Ditch
She’s Got Weird Arms
Allergic to Food
Smiler
Have you ever listened to the Cows? They’re great. Weird punk from Minneapolis. “Punk” doesn’t even do them justice.
Fun memories: they did an excellent cover of the Wipers’ “Youth of America,” which had also appeared on their Electroretard album, and John Cage’s “4’33,”” the latter of which explained the timer atop Osborne’s amplifier.
I saw the band again a year later opening for Mike Patton’s Tomahawk, of which Rutmanis was also the bassist. They were excellent, though not quite as loud. They played “Night Goat” at this second show, though, which was cool.
Not the first Melvins lineup to feature two drummers: from 2006 to 2010, and for a few released in 2013, they had this particular configuration.
I swear, the Melvins always have the best song titles.
Melvins are definitely a band I've been curious about, but I've yet to take the plunge on their intimidating discography.
Any top album recs?