“There’s certainly a lot of bands that are older and still going, that they still kind of rely on their back catalog,” says Melvins drummer Dale Crover. “They make new records, but [those records] probably don’t get the attention or just aren’t as good, for whatever reason, as their older stuff.”
Crover joined the Melvins in 1984, the year after singer-guitarist Buzz Osborne formed the band. Since then, Crover and Osborne have been the two constant members, making records and touring with a rotating cast of collaborators. They’re part of a cadre of bands founded in the Reagan era that built a following through college radio. Some groups of the era — R.E.M. and Red Hot Chili Peppers, for instance — parlayed the more commercial elements of their sound into massive hits and decades of stadium tours, while other peers like The Jesus Lizard and Fugazi continued making ferocious music on their own terms before splintering in the late ’90s or early Aughts.
Though Crover and Osborne — also known as King Buzzo — have reigned as kings among the underground weirdos and been name-checked as influences by outsiders-turned-platinum-sellers like Tool, Nirvana and Soundgarden, they don’t fit into either of those categories. The Melvins have never displayed a desire to chase trends or compromise in the name of broader appeal, but the lack of tremendous commercial success hasn’t slowed them down. They remain prolific as ever, releasing three albums in the past two years that showcase an urge to reinvent themselves. The band’s latest, a double LP called A Walk With Love and Death, is not what Melvins fans expect — and that’s exactly what you’d hope for.
The first section of the album, subtitled Death, is a set of nine tracks that do fall in line with the “classic Melvins sound,” broadly defined. It’s heavy and dark, trudging through primal beats, weighed down with Osborne’s gruff voice. What sets it apart from other Melvins albums is the addition of Steven McDonald — of trash-pop wizards Redd Kross and hardcore punks OFF! — on bass, who brings much more melodic movement to the familiar Buzzo dirge. The twisted power-pop hooks and snarled harmonies on “What’s Wrong With You?” would seem right at home on any Redd Kross record.
The Love portion, by contrast, is a brain-bending collage of noise and ambient sounds conceived as a soundtrack to an as-yet-unfinished short film by director Jesse Nieminen. Sonics in the 14-track set run the gamut from science-fiction sound effects made with modular synthesizers and a theremin to sampled voice-mail greetings and occasional scatting. That’s right, scatting.
Crover explains that despite the drastic differences between the album’s two parts, the goal was always for the record to exist as a single unit. “Sometimes you listen to double records and think, ‘This would be a really good single record’,” he says. “We didn’t want to run into that.”
When they return to Music City on Friday, the Melvins will play a venue that seems a touch unusual, considering their sound. The venerable listening room 3rd & Lindsley — with its room full of tables and chairs, and bookings that include Music Row songwriters and rootsy pop acts with a bit of buzz — certainly appeals to industry suits. The kind of clientele that could benefit from studying how the Melvins exist alongside — but fully separate from — the corporate machine.
“We’ve managed to survive through not selling a shit-ton of records somehow,” Crover says. “Our stuff is really more DIY than people probably realize. We’re very hands-on in everything we do.”
“For whatever reason, things still seem to keep getting better for us each time we tour,” Crover adds. “There’s always an audience. And it always seems to be growing. Good things seem to always happen. We just keep doing the hard work as we’ve always done, you know? As much work as we can.”
There’s one more piece of inspiration, which Crover explains with a laugh.
“Rolling Stones,” he says. “Thank God for them, because if they keep doing it, that means that we can.”
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