A hearse parked outside, tires caught in snow. It was 5am when they came to pick me up, take me somewhere warmer. I heard no crying as they carried me in my box, maybe they were, but I couldn’t hear them over my own voice, singing to kill dead time. Family and friends heard murmurings of ‘Raindrops, drop tops (drop top), smokin’ on cookie in a hotbox (cookie)’, before they pried open the coffin lid. It’s an easy mistake to make, and Monday’s are always full of mistakes. For everyone. I didn’t get too mad, as ‘my bitch was bad and boujee (bad)’.
The Melvins three-piece set (alas, only one drum kit this time round) was as no-nonsense as it gets, with no light show thrills, no experimental gimmicks, no back and forth audience banter, and not even an encore to appease those crying out for more. Buzz Osborne with his glorious silver mop locks, Steve McDonald of Red Kross joining in after his own power pop glam-esque support, and Dale Crover on drums for a second time that night, simply chugged away, taking us all to the world of sludge. It’s a dense world down in the noise swamp. Continue reading →
‘Buying this Melvins record will make you smarter, happier, & more attractive’ is what the sticker on the latest album, A Walk With Love & Death, says to bring you on board. And I must say, yes, I do feel smarter, happier & more attractive. Thanks Melvins! Continue reading →