ALBUM REVIEWS

The Melvins
The Maggott
The Bootlicker
@www.vanguard-online.co.uk

 Woooo! The Melvins! Where did THEY go? Founding fathers of grunge. Sabbath worshippers. The forerunners of big sludgy heavy molasses-thick sound. They've been around since the eighties but were an occasionally marginal taste when sometimes the treacle-thick pace got wearing. The great news is this is a band playing at a mature peak. And, metal lovers, no indulgent guitar solos and no cod-mystical bollocks about priests or ancient empires. It is surely no coincidence that The Melvins formed in Aberdeen, WA, the town that spawned Kurt Cobain. However, Cobain et. al. fused in pop structures to the mix. Now, the Melvins have grown and drawn in influences from the bands they themselves influenced. Here we have THREE albums, all recorded in January 1999 and released initially from 1999 to 2000. Re-released in the UK over the next few months, they stand alone or form an unholy trinity of uneasy listening. First up – The Maggot kicks off with 'hey Mr tambourine man, play a song for me' drifting from an echo chamber before The Melvins riff at double speed into Amazon. This is a band with history. Like a powerful machine they have resources to draw on that never leave them overstrained. There is a feeling of moodiness and threats yet laid back.. Each track shows disintegration as it proceeds, turning to cacophony and the random noise from which it was birthed. There's a strong version of Green Manalishi with a guitar dragged from a distant lonely place. Paradoxically, the rest of the sound, from relaxed rubber bass and simple drum patterns to super fast riffing, comes from a round, warm room. At a guess, I'd say they were having fun and, to tease us, the album fades out with a minute of sleighbells… …Which fade back up into The Bootlicker. Great titles, on a par with 98's Live From The Fucker Club. This is the chill-out album for tired metalheads. From stoned ballads to weird noises to rolling blues, the slide bass adds to the gentle feel. This is no crew of empty-headed thrashers. The Crybaby is the trio's jewel. All three are worth hearing for musical as well as historical reasons but this is big fun. This is the covers album, opening with a statement of intent – Leif Garrett, one time seventies teen heartthrob, on Smells Like Teen Spirit. Singing it carefully, enunciating every syllable. A scream! Then The Melvins pummel into Jesus Lizard's Blockbuster with sonic mayhem and much shouting of 'motherfucker'. Hank Williams III displays his inherited yodelling skills on two slices of country, Ramblin' Man and Okee From Muskogee. Nice pedal steel guitar brought in and always good to hear the latter (is it serious? is it a spoof?). Mike Patton's GI Joe is a great lament with samples and scratches, sounding like something from the Apocalypse Now soundtrack. Mine Is No Disgrace is a Foetus track, sick and mad as a trumpet. 'I feel like I could rape a nun, ... while I listen to that Yes song'. Skeleton Key turn in an even madder Spineless played to the accompaniment of a pile of rubbish. Bliss Blood takes things even further out with a death march to a bowed saw and wurlitzer, very unsettling. And, doing what they do best, the Melvins and Brutal Truth close out with the heavier than heavy Moon Pie. A strangled cry, like a Telly Tubby in distress, goes up – 'AGAIN'. Indeed.

Ross McGibbon