Interview: The Melvins

Not getting due recognition can destroy a band. Still going after 26 years and 20 albums, The Melvins remain one of the most misunderstood groups in rock history, known to most only for being Kurt Cobain’s favourite band. Yet from post punk to surrealist rock, their versatile career arc has proved so unpredictable that both Buzz Osborne and Dale Crover, the band’s mainstays, can’t resist reading whatever is written about them online.

“It’s like watching a bad car wreck,” says an exasperated-sounding Dale. “I always think people are wrong anyway… but I can’t help it.” Buzz even remembers their very first review. “It was by [Sub Pop founder] Bruce Pavitt. He hated it. Thought it was absolute crap. I remember thinking, ‘Man, when you’re wrong, you’re wrong.’” Ever since, the snarky frontman has consistently blasted popular consensus, insisting that if you get it, no explanation is necessary. If you don’t, no explanation will do.

“We’ve managed to completely piss people off to the point where, without trying, it makes you wonder what the hell is going on.” He sounds agitated, his voice steadily rising. “People tend to say, ‘This is the worst song I’ve ever heard.’ I mean… wow! I’m not doing this to be perverse. I’ve worked VERY HARD to get to the point where I can do whatever I want and make records the way I wish other bands would. My fans understand that. If they don’t, then they’re not going to remain fans for very long. So be it. But I’ve thought about this A LOT. The reason why we’ve lasted so long is solely based on the attention to detail. I think if people started at the beginning of our catalogue and went through it, it’d be an amazing journey. All kinds of music! If we were a shitty live band or made terrible records, it would have been over a long time ago. The one thing that’s been completely constant and predictable is that we’re going to do things that are good. Sales don’t mean shit. I apologise for none of it. I’ve never been wrong about anything. I can’t think of the last thing I was surprised about.”

No insecurities there, then. But perhaps any lingering frustration with the industry is understandable given the band’s backstory. Luck has never quite gone The Melvins’ way. They recorded their first album, Gluey Porch Treatments, in 1986 when burgeoning San Francisco label, Alchemy Records, gave them enough gas money to drive down from Aberdeen, Washington. “The record came out to a resounding thud,” recalls Buzz. “We did a tour in ’86 and vowed never to do it again because it was such a disaster. We got a lot of trouble at shows. There was a heavy skinhead influence everywhere we went and they certainly weren’t interested in our long-haired antics. We lost money we didn’t have. You come home $900 in the hole individually and it might as well be nine million.”

When Alchemy founder Victor Hayden disappeared with whatever little money the label had, the band spent years searching for another record label. “We didn’t put out another album till ’89 because no one cared,” says Buzz. “Then when we moved to San Francisco, the guy from Boner saw us play at the request of some girl who OD’d not too long after. He put Ozma out and for some reason, things changed. I don’t know exactly why. It was almost like the musical environment caught up to what we were doing. There was enough interest in that record that a booking agent said we could do a tour where we wouldn’t lose money. Quickly after that we decided to do it full time and haven’t had jobs since.”

After Nirvana’s breakthrough success, The Melvins were quick to benefit from the ripple that grunge sent through the record industry. Cobain had once auditioned to join the band, but was apparently too nervous to remember the parts. As a committed fan, he’d often volunteer to be their roadie and later even recruited Dale to play drums on Bleach. Atlantic were curious enough to take a punt on the band, signing them to a three-album deal. Yet even the Cobain-produced Houdini (1993) failed to endear them to a wider fan base. Opening for Nirvana’s final show was their last glimpse of mainstream audiences, but by then such experiences had soured any ambition to make it big.

“Nirvana did everything that you’d think they would be against,” says Dale. “They ran their band no different than how Bon Jovi would: having a big-time manager, big productions, tour buses — all that stuff. Which is too bad. We always thought that if we were in a position where we had money and became successful, we wouldn’t go down that route. It’s certainly about ego. What else could it be?”

The Melvins remain content with their cult following — a dedicated throng who understand that the only consistency to be expected from album to album is a fresh twist, even if it means losing as many followers as the last outing would have gained. “If you look at the grand scheme of everything we’ve done,” says Buzz, “the hard part comes in figuring out what to do next — if you want to do something that’s at all challenging. But you pay the price for that. People get upset. I’ve never understood why anyone should expect me to be predicable. Me of all people! I’m an eccentric weirdo — probably a lot weirder than you would imagine.” He cackles madly. “There’s no way around that. I’m not the easiest person in the world to get along with.”

Yet for once, The Melvins appear to have found stability. Having gone through a multitude of bass players over the years, they’ve expanded into a powerhouse quartet by adding Big Business’s Jared Warren and Coady Willis on bass and additional drums. There’s no pressure or expectation from their label, Ipecac, as it’s run by friend and collaborator Mike Patton. In fact, their accessible but still abstract new album, The Bride Screamed Murder, has earned The Melvins a spot on the Billboard Top 200 — at number 200 — for the first time in their career, by selling just 2,809 copies in its first week. Even if the stability should prove short-lived, and the band suspect it will, what continues to keep the them together is an unwavering self-belief — one that Buzz believes is questioned at every turn.

“I ran into Slim [Moon] from [indie label] Kill Rock Stars years ago and he said, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of playing loud rock music? Don’t you wanna do something else?’ I just stared at him. ‘Like what? What are you talking about?’ This is it for me! I don’t have anything else. I have to make this work. If I make stuff nobody believes in, I’m out of business. That is it! The difference between me and people like him is that the light is gone out of his eye. It’s gone. I haven’t lost that magic.”

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