Melvins – Ozma (original version; 1989)

I don’t know much about Melvins, to be perfectly honest. I started listening to them a few years ago (maybe 2009-ish?) and while I do very much like the band, I don’t often find myself coming back to them. Maybe it’s because  I’m always doing something else that demands more attention, like homework or snorting cocaine off of the ass of a mime – and not Robins Williams from Shakes the clown (who was very clearly coked out of his goddamn mind when they filmed that shit.). Movie still gives me fucking nightmares. It’s uncomfortable and slightly diseased feeling.

Appropriately, this brings me to the general feel of Ozma. It’s a pretty gross album. Not the subject matter so much; it just feels like a dingy bathroom. And I don’t mean that in a bad way – It’s an *endearingly* filthy bathroom with lots of creative and colorful graffiti.
But the subject matter is pretty urky as well. Themes of being generally desperate and pathetic, lowly, wormlike. And weird. I always like lyrics that make little apparent sense and are vague without being pretentiously so. Unless Davide Lynch is pretentious.

Well okay, he probably is.  And this is, a little bit at times.

But there’s always something dark, and threatening and sexual going on here. And not in a fun way. Like the dude in the alley wearing the trench coat is masturbating and giggling ass you walk by. Probably coked up.

A track by track rundown would be pointless, all but two tracks fall just under or over the one minute mark. I feel reasonably certain that the original pressings of this album were drugs. I don’t know what drugs. Whatever they were, I would never take drugs that make me feel this disgusting.

I feel like I need to take a shower.

There are few hooks to speak of, and it almost seems crass to call this “music”. It certainly doesn’t sound like it at first – it sounds more like a group of paranoid hobos learned how to riff. And it *sounds* random. But it *isn’t*. There *are* patterns… the hooks are simply too jagged to identify them as such. It takes a very intent and focused listening to pick up on them. And some of them are actually pretty clever.

Any singular adjective I might use to describe any of the sounds on this recording, would only be polluted by it’s juxtaposition with this album.

I rate this album:
Huffing paint in a nightie/10


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