“Melvin’s The Melvins Rodeö” is a time-honored single-instance tradition that won’t be repeated, unless it will. The doctor said — to no effect at all — that Melvin should take his prescription as usual and let one of his many writer personalities showcase the most underground of the underground—seminal co-founders of both grunge and sludge, The Melvins, whose legacy speaks for itself. This collectividual review treatment continues to exist to unite me, myself and Melvin in boot or bolster of the band who reminds us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of The Melvins. Melvin rides on.”
For over twenty albums The (the) Melvins has been distilling wild tones through rockin’ and trippin’ soundscapes. Through their forty-plus year existence, they’ve carved both essentials of the stoner/sludge sound—approximately 1991’s Bullhead through 1994’s Stoner Witch—as well as albums that, well, aren’t so great—arguably Prick, some early 00s cuts, a few really odd EPs and such… also arguably there’s just too much Melvins. But hey, what does that matter when guitarist/vocalist Buzz Osborne and drummer/sometimes bassist Dale Crover have been at it for this long, living their dream year after year. Participating in similarly weird acts like Fantômas, and arising from the ashes of messy punk bands Fecal Matter,1 Stiff Woodies,2 and Brown Towel, Melvins penchant for low rent good times is inbred and part of the charm. So where does that leave this 27th full-length studio release, Tarantula Heart? King Buzz himself claims that it’s unlike any other Melvins release to date, owing to a backwards way of writing where songs were cobbled together from improvised riffs and melodies. But what say us Melvins? Surely only Melvins can judge Melvins… – Melvin(s)
The Melvins // Tarantula Heart [April 19th, 2024]
Melvin: If you think about it, we’re all Melvins around here, and so the Melvining is finally upon us and our sweet new jam band is back and ready to rip some faces. Or whatever. Look, I get that Melvins are super iconic,3 but I’ve never offered a listen beyond just an “oh that’s a Melvin, I see” with a song here and there. So Tarantula Heart is quintessential Melvins, and that’s super rad, dude, because we’ve got ourselves some sorta arachnophobic blend of stoner rock, noise rock, sludge, and grunge. Take near twenty-minute opener “Pain Equals Funny,” which kicks off with a bright and shiny riffage straight outta Howling Giant4 before dragging the sound into a dark hole like a brown recluse yoinks its prey, complete with squelching and gore that you expect, sludgy riffing colliding with reverbed drawls only to be hit with psychedelic guitar and straight-up noise that sound like Swans’ The Seer. It’s a goddamn shame or maybe a blessing, because the following tracks simply do not live up to the hype, but that doesn’t stop “Working the Ditch” and “Allergic to Food” from being menacing sludgy bangers, or the spidery and dissonant “She’s Got Weird Arms” and “Smiler” from being like that guy who chooses the urinal right next to you. And like that guy, Melvins according to the Melvins is like that guy: awkward, jarring, and ridiculously uncomfortable. But you can’t help but look at that tremendous dong. 3.5/5.0
Melvin: Let’s get weird with The Melvins! The experimental composition method leaves something akin to a curated jam, parceled out into four tracks until the band got bored and lumped everything else into the nineteen minute opener. To pull this off you must be a band with decades of experience and a penchant for weird psychedelic shit. Good thing The Melvins fits that description! “Pain Equals Funny” is a grand journey with grandiose energy, but it’s surprisingly listenable for something so free-form. Founder, vocalist, guitarist and exploded hairdo Buzzo sneers and croons with good, sardonic spirit, and the amount of feedback-laden riffs lend a noise-like sense of grit to the experience. Putting the big jammy epic up front is a ballsy choice, but a smart one, as the lethargy that starts setting in by the end is counteracted by the high energy of the Tarantula Heart’s remainder. “Working the Ditch,” a dark and biting piece of nasty sludge, and the unhinged avant-punk of “Allergic to Food” are the highlights here, but every track is worth your time. In a way, Tarantula Heart is review-proof. The Melvins sets out to experiment and muck about a bunch, and whatever came out of that, the goal was already met. But if you allow yourself to release the reins entirely and ride the insanity, the result is much more enjoyable than I had expected. Kudos for the old coots! 3.5/5.0
Melvin: Melvins are a legendary institution in whatever niche you place them in. Be it experimental rock, sludge, grunge, stoner, or alt-everything, they blazed a wicked career of freakishness doing whatever they wanted without regard for commercial success. For Tarantula Heart, their 20th release (depending on how you count collaborations), the band decided to try an unusual approach to songwriting. The members each came up with ideas independently of one another and eventually came together to try to piece them into actual songs. That’s either a recipe for a musical tire fire or something truly ingenious. So which is it? In classic Melvins style, it’s a bit of both. As always, they challenge the listener. This time by opening with the nineteen minutes of “Pain Equals Funny.” It’s a weird, meandering song that tests the listener’s ability to sit still and it doesn’t fully work, but there’s a legitimately good eight or nine-minute song buried in the excessive drone, dissonance, and dead spaces. “She’s Got Weird Arms” sounds like Talking Heads got into the shrooms and then wrote a song with Oingo Boingo. It’s good, but super odd. Also repulsively attractive is the bizarre “Allergic to Food” which reeks of Butthole Surfers and even Beck. Closer “Smiler” is a sludge rock missile fired right at your bases and it hits hard. I want a whole album of this shit. I didn’t get it, but Tarantula Heart is more or less what you expect from Melvins. It’s all over the map, but the good outweighs the truly fucked up, barely. 3.0/5.0
Melvin: The band that arguably ushered in grunge, only to watch it die and have finely goateed vultures pick its bones, brings us their latest bag of tricks, and it wouldn’t be a new Melvins record without a healthy dose of “what fresh hell is this?” Tarantula Heart sits firmly in a jammy, noisy, sludgetastic sound world, and if wildly ambitious nineteen-minute opener “Pain Equals Funny” is any indication, has zero fucks to give whether or not you “get it.” Regardless of your experience with the band that was named after yours truly in the bathroom of a Thriftway, Tarantula Heart saves its rewards for the patient and open-minded listener. Lose yourself in the extended jams and hypnotic swirling of “Pain Equals Funny,” bob your head to the dual-drummer-drumming of “Working the Ditch,” and let your sanity melt away in The Twilight Zone-esque atmosphere of “She’s Got Weird Arms.” Sure the longform of “Pain Equals Funny” loses its steam more than once in its meanderings, and the material often feels more like improvised jams and not fully-clothed songs, but there’s a real charm to the devil-may-care attitude on Tarantula Heart. Fans of Melvins will continue to be impressed on the band’s 27th(!) record, and I think this one may make a few new converts yet. 3.0/5.0
Melvin: Melvins are unmistakable in their craft, and this newest venture in its adventurous construction—spontaneously reconstructed jam-based songs—lands no different. Thick, crunchy riffs that swagger alongside rhythms with a psychedelic stumble, every moment of Tarantula Heart feels like a night lost to memory of a little too much to drink and not enough hours to blow it off. Ever warm and so carefully distorted, longtime fuzz-slinger Buzz Osborne worships amp noise and twangy march all the same. Sometimes the droning feedbacks that inspire bands like Boris last for minutes and minutes dissolving against phasing drum chatter and swooshing noise patches (“Pain Equals Funny”). At others, wailing, modulated lines screech in spite of double-drumkit marches and rollicking riff patterns sure to please fans of olde Melvins and emerging psych/stoner leaning rock acts like King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard alike. Whatever the case, an undeniable and persistent groove underlies every movement and helps long-form and short-form statements feel like one, well-worn cabinet-blowing performance. Cobbled of memorable phrases and improvised excursions, Tarantula Heart spins a web enough to catch, a glimmer enough to fascinate, and a vibe enough to settle in. Comfortable, composed, and loaded with practiced energy, Melvins at play continues to be worth a listen, even if their most groundbreaking work is far behind them. 3.0/5.0
