Melvins
Tres Cabrones

In thirty years, many things can happen: a man is born and becomes an adult, or becomes an adult and finds himself old. You can exterminate 20% of the German population and end religious wars by reaffirming the validity of a piece of paper signed a century before. You can go from being a comedian on television to leading parliamentarians without being in parliament. Or, in thirty years, none of that may happen, and three guys who once played in a garage for fun today decide to celebrate three decades of activity by doing the same things they’ve always done, twenty albums and two hundred pseudonyms later. If you’ve been fooling around for six decades releasing an album a year, the best thing to do to commemorate them is to repeat yourself once again.

Putting aside the four-piece formation with Big Business and ending the collaboration with Trevor Dunn on double bass, the Melvins decide to reassemble the original lineup: the one from 1983, when, as nineteen-year-old jokers, they played hardcore punk in a home garage. Thus, the original drummer, Mike Dillard, comes out of nowhere. Matt Lukin, the bassist, has hung up his bass guitar and is now a carpenter; in his place goes the historic drummer Dale Crover. King Buzzo, of course, remains in his place, unmoved. The result is an album with a school friend of Buzzo on drums and one of the best drummers of his genre relegated to bass. An album titled Tres Cabrones, "three bastards".

There is enough to awaken the perplexity of anyone, even those who appreciated the latest albums of ours, which did nothing but delve deeper into the usual mix of sludge, stoner, and raucous, chaotic rock. Tres Cabrones is no exception. You might even think it starts at a disadvantage: the genre is the same as the latest albums, the difference is that on bass we have someone who manages but isn’t a professional, and that two expert drummers are replaced by a single one not exactly known for his skill. It is a minor album, inevitably so, but they, who, for the occasion, rename themselves Los Melvins, succeed once again in getting a passing mark.

The initial triplet Dr.Mule, City Dump, and American Cow immediately puts the listener at ease: the quality of the usual concoction is always good: these are songs written specifically for the present formation and every musician appears comfortable among punk accelerations, sludge slowdowns, winks at the quirkiest noise, and occasional synths. Over everything, King Buzzo's guitar inevitably reigns with particular arrogance. Among the tracks composed for the occasion, we also find the curious I Told You I Was Crazy, a slow doom swamp suffocated by synths, and the highlight of the album, Dog and Cattle Prods. Nine minutes in which all the aforementioned components of the album are mixed with great class: speed, slowness, heaviness, parts on the edge of noise, and unexpected melodic openings; the entire album listening is rewarded by this piece. Psycho-Delic Haze, Stump Farmer, Walter's Lips, and Stick 'em Up Bitch are old tracks written in 1983 already collected in an EP last year titled 1983: the first two are simple, heavy, and aggressive; the latter are fast punk rock tracks. Mixed among the new and old tracks we find Tie My Pecker to a Tree, 99 Bottles of Beer, and You're in the Army Now, three drinking songs revisited for the occasion, just to remind us with what approach this album was made.

With Tres Cabrones we thus have an album played for fun, which at best entertains and at worst bores. A minor album, I repeat, but if we have tracks that we will skip easily, like the barracks' chants and the two raw punk songs, we also have several episodes that deserve a listen. Above all stands out that Dog and Cattle Prods which is one of the best Melvins pieces of the last ten years. Melvins fans will not be disappointed this time either, occasional listeners and simple onlookers would do better to look elsewhere.