Interview with Buzz Osborne of the Melvins.
I have this really lame tendency to want to contextualize everything when I write about music. Especially so when writing about older music; I want to put albums and bands into their historical contexts. I want there to be a feeling of milieu for the reader. Is that so wrong? In writing about the Melvins' Mangled Demos From 1983 I could go on for days about America in the year 1983: Reagan was in the White House, the economy was tanking, the nation's fascination with the Rubik's Cube was on the wane thanks to an epidemic of Pac-Man fever. Very broadly speaking, 1983 in America was an ugly time.
But this isn't about historical context, because with the exception of the Rubik's Cube, America in 1983 was hardly all that different from America in 2005-especially small town America. And the Melvins weren't all that concerned with being a political voice anyhow. Shit, after talking with Buzz I'm not so sure the Melvins were all that concerned with being any type of voice at all. Well no, that's wrong, too. The Melvins in 1983 were a mouthpiece for small-town angst, youthful disenchantment, and a love of sludge, metal, punk, and getting wasted.
I spoke with Buzz Osborne about their new, 22-year-old album, growing up in the Northwest, why he doesn't skate, and I made no secret of the fact that I'm an unabashed fan.-Andreas Trolf
What are your thoughts on the connection between a political climate and punk rock?
Well, that wasn't what originally attracted me to punk rock. It was the musical anarchy that I liked more than the political stuff. Political stuff went along with it, but generally, with very few exceptions, I think that most rock and roll people that are involved in politics are just little more than blowhards. They probably play with their hair dryer more than they read books.
I don't necessarily mean to draw too many political connections because I know that generally that's not what the music's about, but you tend to see an upswing in the quality of punk rock when there's a rotten political situation.
As far as our own political views go, or what sort of climate is there for punk rock, in my personal case it wouldn't have made any difference. I would have been miserable either way.
What about the difficulties associated with being from a small town?
I think that that has more to do with it and the way that the music sounded than anything else. As far as the rest of it goes, I mean, even to this day there's no political party that speaks for me. Who are they? Who would that be? I don't trust any of those people. I don't trust the Democrats or the Republicans. To me the whole thing, especially since the last election, voting for either Kerry or Bush was just laughable to me. It's like, "Okay, you're right. You're really different." People who think that kind of stuff, to me, are just absurd, stupid, have their heads up their asses, and just don't really understand the nature of what we're talking about.
Voting for one of two guys along those lines, in the party lines nowadays, which are so wide, I think that people are kind of missing the point. They've been buffaloed into a system where they actually think that they're going to be voting in a democratic way, in a way that's going to make a difference. They've been lied to, and that's just the way it is. I can't in good conscience put my vote towards either one of those parties, or the Green party, either. Who speaks for me? Who speaks for the punk-rock gun-owner? Which party would I be involved in?
It seems that you can't do that. You can't pick and choose from every party. So can you tell me about your daily routine when you guys recorded these demos in the early 80s? Growing up, going to high school, et cetera ...
There are liner notes in the record that kind of really explain it well. But as far as what was going on with me: futureless, nightmarish, going-nowhere-fast type off situations. Punk rock kind of gave me hope. Music in general that wasn't associated with what was going on around me gave me hope that there was a world out there that might be more acceptable to me and didn't just revolve around the little tiny place that we lived. I was very happy to finally figure this out.
Back then it was pretty much get as hammered as you could, any time you could, play some music, and run wild. Basically, this is what it amounted to. I didn't go to college. I didn't do any of that kind of stuff. I went to a community college for a few months, that was about it, and dropped out. I basically didn't have anywhere to go or have anything to do.
It just goes a long way toward showing you that there's a world outside of your own town and outside of the circle that you might be in.
It took a long time to get there.
But looking back, is there anything you know now that you wish you'd known then? Or where you might be if you hadn't started playing music?
If I had known then what I know now I would have killed the guys in Alice In Chains before they ever got a chance to start. No. I don't know. I think that going through all that stuff gave me the outlook that I have today. Every dollar that I've made off music is something that I've earned. I haven't been given one thing.
That makes it worth more. If you're handed something, you haven't earned it.
I guess so. It was slow going. It's easier now than it was. It was desperate times. You're surrounded by a lot of people that are just as desperate as you are. Futureless, you know? Going nowhere. But things worked out okay. Music is the thing. The thing that really saved our asses, and we put a lot of time and effort into it over the last twenty, more than twenty years.
Well I'm glad it's paid off. I'm glad you guys put out your music.
Thanks. I appreciate when people appreciate or understand what we're doing. It makes it so we can continue to do what we're doing. And I think they realize that we're not faking. And that's all that there really is.
That's got to be one of the bigger rewards in playing music, when you make something that someone else relates to.
Yeah, that's always great. When they come up to you and say that it means something to them and they're wearing a Rob Zombie shirt, that's great, that also means something to you. But no, you can't really judge that kind of stuff. It's hard to be polite to everybody, but it's easier that way.
But I'm sure there are tons of situations where you find yourself shaking someone's hand that you'd just as soon punch in the throat.
Yeah, especially when they're drunk and acting like a jerk. It's not good, but we just get through it. It's the nature of the beast. You play in places where they sell alcohol to people, so you have to expect it. It's not going to change anytime soon. So how is the world of skateboarding?
It's in tumult. It's ugly. Skateboarding is fun, but it is what it is.
You think it's bigger now than it was?
It's huge, but it's on its way out. (At this point, I have to admit that the interview kind of got away from me. Buzz turned it around on me and started grilling me about skating. I'll do you a favor and not include my answers about supposed parallels between skateboarding and the punk-rock explosion of the mid 1990s. I'll pick things up again at the very end of my tirade.) I think, in the end, what it comes down to is that music and skateboarding both are what they are; they mean so much to the person who's doing them, and regardless of how it's sold and packaged, when it's just you and your friends doing it, that'll always be the purest form of it.
Yeah, there's always been a punk rock/skateboarding connection. I wonder why? I wish my bones were made of rubber so I could skateboard. If I got on a skateboard now and wrecked, I don't think I would ever recover. I'll just watch.
