Melvins
The Crybaby

The translation of the album title could be: "the whiner". The final verdict of the record, as always, can be summed up in one word: "delight".

This time, it’s a well assorted and varied delight, given the presence of people like: David Yow (Jesus Lizard); Michelino Patton (do you know him???); Henry Bogdan (Helmet).

The menu also includes a collaboration with a semi-unknown group known as: TOOL (they're "pretty good" too, all things considered). Many others also participate in the production of the album that closes what is called the “terror trilogy” (see entries "The Maggot" and "The Bootlicker"), but I won't list them all here.

Collaborations aside, this album, due to its mix of musical genres, reminds me a lot of "Stag". Even here, in a sense, you never know what to expect. It begins with the cover of "Smells like teen spirit", and up to this point, it’s nothing special (except that it’s sung by a teen-pop idol from the 70s), then it quickly moves to pure delirium with the retouched "Blockbuster" by Jesus Lizard and relaxes in a flash with the country-like "Ramblin Man".

A question immediately comes to mind: "Who better than the chubby little hand of King Buzzo knows how to direct all this with grace and cheekiness at the same time?" It is nothing less than a quintessential Melvins start: fantasy, fits of hysteria, and precisely cheekiness. I believe, all things considered, these characteristics have made me fall in love with the "heaviest" duo (especially in terms of kilograms) in the history of grunge.

Then, if I say grunge, we're not here to start debates because I think Buzzo and his partner invented millions of subgenres. Dozens can be found in this well-crafted piece of work, all mixed into a work of art according to the needs of our two amusingly overweight friends.

You will notice yourselves how pleasant it will be to move from the filtered thrash-hop of a magnificent "G.I Joe", to the punk-grunge of a devastating "Spineless", to the industrial desolation of "Mine is no disgrace" (the interpretation by the great James Thirlwell of Foetus is hypnotic and beastly).

For those who do not yet own this album, it might suffice to have piqued your curiosity, a little nudge to take small steps into the Melvins world. I want to spoon-feed you two more candies, one that might be indigestible to those not used to long disquieting marathons: "Divorced" (noteworthy is the spectacular back and forth on the skins between Dale Crover and Danny Carey of Tool); the other, more than a little bitter, and I refer to the spectral: "The man with the laughing hand is dead" (feat. Bliss Blood, the female of Pain Teens).

What did you expect, paths full of jars of honey to enter the fantastic Melvins world? Well, you were wrong, the roads to Melvinsland are something else. Here, everything is done according to their will. Thy will be done.