Part 1: Fellowship of the Melvins
In 2010, ABC News correctly identified legendary rock group, the Melvins as a "cult band." Meanwhile, the growing "Melvins Army" presently consists of close to a million devotees worldwide. The fact is, the Melvins are not a "rock and roll band" at all. They deliberately defy any genre or scene that may claim them as their own, for reasons which we will now expose.
After more than 20 years of investigation, we have discovered that beneath their "rock star" exterior, the Melvins are, without a doubt, a dangerous cult. An ancient fraternity, if you will, dating back to the dark and medieval days of 1983. Their live show is a Druid-like séance, with band members wearing phantom-like priestly garments. Midway through their "performance," an ethereal communion and baptism takes place. Their musical shows are ritualistic initiation ceremonies, coercing the unsuspecting concert-goer into an unearthly secret society. The band's members are like undercover agents, sent by a trust of giant insects from another galaxy.
In order to give you a better idea of the Melvins deceitful brainwashing techniques, we will now share excerpts from just a few of their demonic songs, written by His Divine Grace, King Buzzo:
"A picture of Jesus as an Indian over my bed/and playing with parts of myself."
"When man's only distant relative/has descended on his stone/you will know."
"Milk maid dud bean."
As you can certainly see in the above examples, the lyrics are like verses of maniacal pagan prayers or something from the Dead Sea scrolls; blending their bizarre mosaic of Hinduism, mystic-Christianity, Aleister Crowley Magic, and other mumbo-jumbo into an abstract-apocalyptic message, intended to contaminate the minds of our precious youth.
Once the novice's unsuspecting mind has been manipulated by the peculiar music, the fresh new disciple will become completely obsessed with the Melvins "glorious riffage" and poppycock lyrics of "King Buzzo." The invisible substance emanating from the Melvins amplifiers will thus crawl deeper into the bowels of the subconscious mind, penetrating the soul, and ruining countless lives in the process.
The young victim's entire brain will involuntarily become another piece in the Melvins vast machine, steadily generating more Melvins sludge in their neuro-pathways. No matter what you are doing as a Melvins follower, King Buzzo's voice and Dale Crover's drumming will be pounding inside of your head. There will be no thoughts or ideas of your own, just Melvins.
Lord of the Riffs Part 2: Lysol and Eggnog
As a recuperating Melvins convert for the past two decades, I needed to be completely deprogrammed before my scheduled interview with the cult's leader and founder, King Buzzo.
I was on a mission from God, to expose the Melvins for what they really were: a dangerous and quite possibly satanic cult, disguised as a hip-alternative rock band, preying on confused college and high school students! I needed to destroy their evil machine! I needed to get Geraldo Rivera on their ass!
And so, a few days before my interview with "Buzz," I reached out to my cousin, a psychologist who works for the Cult Awareness Network. However, he had never heard of the Melvins before!
"Sounds like you're just a deranged fanboy!" he laughed.
His tone then became somber, "Really Jason, you need to talk to a good life coach. It will be very helpful for you in this type of situation. Call this number. It's free." He continued, "I call them all the time. They use what is called 'Subconscious Release Technique', to get to the root of your issues. The Melvins music playing deep down in your subconscious mind is blocking you from having a successful life..."
I wanted a successful life, damn it! Melvins, get out of my head!
And so dear reader, I called the number, and it was the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I spoke to about half a dozen life coaches on that 800 number every day for an entire week, before my scheduled interview with King Buzzo. These amazing life coaches helped me release anxiety and negative thoughts; they filled my mind with Positive Mental Attitude (PMA). I would dive deeper into my own mind, searching for the root of the Melvins fanaticism which I needed to let go of.
Lord of the Riffs Part 3: Return of the King
I closed my eyes...as memory drifted back to my early days as a young cadet in the Melvins Army, circa 1992. I was reading Dear Jesus, a popular punk rock zine compiled by the great Sam McPheeters. I turned a page and read the following Melvins concert review:
I turned to another page and read a Melvins album review:
As you will now see in the following anecdote, these powerful Melvins reviews in a punk rock zine over 20 years ago, altered the course of my life forever.
After hanging up with the life coach, I continued to swim deep down in my own subconscious mind. I see a flyer in a local record store for an upcoming Melvins show! Yay! The Melvins are coming to town! And btw, the concert was exactly as Sam McPheeters had described in his review above.
I had purchased a copy of the Melvins' Bullhead audio cassette ($5), and excitedly brought it back to my dorm room.
The next day, the birds were chirping outside as I "wake and bake" in the dorm room. I pop the Melvins' Bullhead cassette tape into my Sony stereo, press the play button, and proceed to open a book from my Modern Lit. class, Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. I was assigned to analyze the chapter titled, "Campus of Interzone University."
I open the book as the slow riff from "Boris" (Side 1, song 1) oozes from my stereo.
The chapter begins, "All the students are drinking coffee from tin cans, shooting up heroin with safety pins, and studying Mayan codices...the Professor arrives carrying a string of bull heads....copulating cats and outraged squawk of the displaced bull head..."
Now that was a powerful moment of serendipity. I put the book down, took another bong hit, and listened to the thunderous Melvins feedback vibrating from the small speakers of my Sony cassette player.
"What the hell," I thought (with bong in hand), "are the chances of reading about bull heads while listening to an album called Bullhead?"
The heavily distorted riffs and thunderous percussion intensified so slowly.
"I can see you here like...a rell," bellowed King Buzzo in his Dio on steroids kicking Bruce Dickinson in the nuts voice. The drummer was a caveman, pounding on dry giraffe skin amidst a herd of a million elephants. King Buzzo's voice became a thickened scream as the walls of my dorm room trembled. "Like a man jo illa..." he sang, "and rope."
These words he was singing seemed to come directly from the pages of Naked Lunch! I grabbed my pen, opened my class notebook, and started concocting my new Melvins Bullhead/Naked Lunch postulate.
"I am going to get an A+ in the class," I confidently said out loud. I glanced at my prior notes from the class; the professor had mentioned that rock group Steely Dan got their band name from the pages of Naked Lunch: In the book, Steely Dan was a Japanese made dildo given to a character named Mary by a Lesbian Zen monk.
Another line from the book suddenly flashed into my head! I frantically licked my fingers and found the page. Yes! This twisted character named Mary says the following, just before doing deviant sexual acts to her boyfriend with Steely Dan: "Barefoot boy, check thy bullheads with the madame."
The Naked Lunch narrator continues, "She puts on a record, metallic cocaine be-bop and shoves the boy's legs over his head...."
A light bulb the size of Jupiter suddenly popped up over my own head:
"'METALLIC COCAINE BE-BOP?" I thought, reading the line on the page again and again amidst the blaring background thunder and lightning emanating from the speakers of the small Sony cassette player.
"Good Lord! That is a perfect description of the Melvins music!"
There was a knock on the door. I looked out the peephole, stoned. It was her: the woman that I had a crush on who called me a weirdo all the time from my Creative Writing class. I had forgotten that she was coming over to smoke! She was wearing her Ramones shirt and my heart melted like butter. She nodded towards the bong, and we each took a gigantic hit while Melvins' Bullhead blared in the background.
The audio cassette tape stopped and there was a brief moment of awkward silence (remember, the year is 1992). For a moment, I wondered if she had more pimples on her face than I did, which really turned me on. I stood up, walked over to the small stereo, and flipped over the cassette tape. As I inserted the cassette, I noticed that it was released by a record label called Boner Records. Ironically, I myself had a boner. But, let's pretend I never told you that.
I pressed the play button, and Buzz's incredible Zodiac riff began side 2.
She looked up from the bong like she was on a stage amidst tons of dry ice. Her beautiful bloodshot eyes were red like apples. She held her fist over her mouth and coughed.
"Weirdo... What kind of music is this?" she asked, weed smoke hovering from her luscious mouth.
"Metallic," I answered, as cool as possible.
"Cocaine," I paused. "Be-bop."
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