King Buzzo's Record Selling Tour

Age is a crazy thing. Not only is it theorized that nearly every atom in our bodies is replaced every seven years bringing up an array of philosophical questions, but your brain also continuously rationalizes your feelings, wants and desires to bring new perspective and perception. This can happen in slight ways, in such a gradual fashion that you are oblivious to your newfound pivot in position. Shit, off the top of my head, I wear a lot of sweaters these days instead of the perennial t-shirts of yore. I find that I now enjoy previously horrid tasting vegetables like squash or broccoli and that some deserts are just “too sweet”. There are also big changes too- George W. Bush found Jesus at 40, Al Sharpton’s head grew to a balloon like size compared to his body just a few years ago and, I think, Dennis Miller was brainwashed. These are musings, nothing more. Yet, these points seem relevant and apropos after watching one of the oddest, usually muumuu’d and stage fan blown, axe grinding front man of all time- King Buzzo of The Melvins- take the stage in the upstairs room at Santos Party House in Manhattan. Armed with only an acoustic guitar and a microphone, it was as bare-boned as it was shocking.

On most relevant music sites, the build up to this tour had an accompanying warning label that promised this was not going to be Eric Clapton unplugged. This acoustic experience was going to be different, providing everything you would expect from a sonic titan like the mouth piece/guitar-toucher of the mighty Melvins. His accompanying solo acoustic album, This Machine Kills Artists, in name and cover appeared to be designed to harken back to a Woody Guthrie-type man of the people with dogged, earned respect for truth telling of the downtrodden and powerless. Except, that is not the outcome of this endeavor… at all.

Without judgment, let’s call this solo acoustic tour/album package for what it is… a cash in. Now, it is fact that The Melvins have been sticking it their loyal fan base for a while. Granted, in a manner that doesn’t garner that many complaints and, honestly, in a way that the fans are willing to be exploited. It was a plan of evil genius that drew inspiration from those infamous babies and their damn addiction to cane sugar. A few years back, The Melvins teamed up with Tom Hazelmyer of Amphetamine Reptile Records and began to take wild swings at the newly trending format of choice, vinyl records. They were going for a knock out like no other band out there- screen printed covers, tri-colored vinyl and small batch, limited pressings that sold out in minutes online with the only remaining copies going out on tour with the band. The metal up the ass of their fans is truly Machiavellian, they knew their fan’s demands and went about methodically rigging the system in their favor. Case in point, the aptly titled This Machine Kills Artists album is readily available to the public as a cd, digitally and even as part of music steaming services like Spotify. However, if you want the vinyl as most of their biggest (and bearded) loyal fans do, they have you on the hook. They spin it so that you work for them now and not the other way around. The 17 songs on This Machine Kills Artists album are split into three separate volumes on ten-inch vinyl (think bigger than a single, smaller than a full length). Each volume is priced to move at $40 a pop- netting $120 per sucker fan- that is if these fuckers (sucker + fan, no swearing here) can even be so lucky to get their hands on it which is a testament to how well this system is working. Perhaps unknown to The Melvins is that the limited nature of these items is making secondary markets explode with sales going for two to three times the already bloated asking price. This mark up attracts flippers (no, not the band) who then become professionally invested in Melvins releases and their timed online sales. Unless the band is getting in on the secondary market action, this outcome is the worst possible news for both the fans and the band themselves.

Unfortunately, this $120 triple ten-inch isn’t even the worst offender. The Melvins have expanded this concept with their recent live album Sugar Daddy Live and their covers album Everybody Loves Sausage. Again, cds and digital versions are available to all. The vinyl, however, has been taken to lofty heights never seen by other bands- a height that would even give Gene Simmons pause before doing the same to his fans (Don't worry- he would and will eventually. I have no doubt about that). The thirteen tracks on the live cd have been split into thirteen double A-side 45rpm twelve inches containing just one song from the live album and one non-exclusive, previously released song by a band of their selection (think Cows, Mudhoney, etc). The covers are a silkscreen print that only change slightly per each of the 13 releases all contained in a generic plastic sleeve. They do pull out all the stops with the clear paint-splattered vinyl though. Totaling a shiny object that makes the loyal collectors squeal with desire. At a price of originally $25 (now $30) individually, they have their “beloved” fans paying out $325 minimally to get the complete set of songs on the live cd. With the covers cd, they went even further and did a seven-inch series for those thirteen tracks but for the same price point as the twelve inches. Again, $325 at the least to get the complete vinyl set with tracks totaling the covers cd album. That is fucking gouging! Ridiculous but the only dilemma they seem to be having is keeping them in stock online for more than 10 minutes upon release.

A lot of bands could get away with something like this but few actually do. At least, no one to the degree that The Melvins have inflicted. The old adage of “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should” comes to mind. Not that I believe this point gets through Buzz’s thick pelt of aged grayish-white hair on his head. It is understood that Buzz was smart enough to notice the market opening up and to go full bore into the exploitation game for his own gain… but I’m not a marketer or his manager. I am just a fan. To me, it’s capitalism at it’s peak, it’s exploitative and it’s gross… so gross, that I bought volumes two and three of his solo album for $40 each at his show. I would have even bought the first volume but it sold out before the tour even started. So, yes, I am a hypocrite at worst and a sucker at best. Still, I was aware of the game going into my purchase. Someday, maybe, I’ll turn into a flipper too- that’s my astute business mind talking when I handed $80 in cash in exchange for two ten inch pieces of vinyl that probably run around five dollars max to produce a piece. Is King Buzzo to blame? Or Are his stupid fans (myself included) that buy anything with his name on it the issue? It’s a symbiotic relationship but it’s unhealthy like a parasite on a host. Yet, it goes on with no end in sight. He presses the vinyl and we presses the “buy” button for our preciouses.

With this particular paradigm in mind, King Buzzo’s show in Manhattan that night took on a new meaning. I can easily confirm that he commanded the room with just one guitar, one microphone and one merch table. With about half a grand worth of merchandise on that table, the visage of King Buzzo on the elevated stage with his steel stringed wooden acoustic looked little more than a ploy to shake the money tree one more time. In his solo arrangement, he was finally free to reap the full 100% of the profits- no roadies, no guitar techs to fiddle with his usual array of peddles and, most importantly, no other band members- just a straight line of cash directly into his pocket. It appeared he understood his good fortune on the stage as he was in a great mood; playing covers, Melvins songs and even an occasional solo song as well. His pacing was expert as he was able to slow things down every couple songs to wipe the ever-present sweat from his face and forearms with a rag he kept in one of his theoretically cashless pockets. Simultaneously making side comments, telling stories about male/female relationship dynamics, name dropping and embarrassing his merch guy by chastising him for earlier in life decisions (and overtly reminding all in house of his wares for sale. It should be noted that Brian Walsby of Manchild fame and one-time drummer of the band Polvo was tasked with manning the merch table during this tour. A heavy responsibility as outright theft of its contents would result in grand larceny.) While Buzzo’s stories were long, rambling affairs that bordered on conversation more appropriate for a psychiatrist’s office, he regaled the audience with stories of publicly humiliating Mike Patton with his lack of knowledge regarding Faith No More and respecting Iggy Pop for walking out on a festival crowd because they liked the band Weezer. Basically, King Buzzo didn't come off as a people person to say the least. (Please note that he used the descriptor "dick" about himself a few times on stage.) A realization that made the rest of his fan gouging actions seem less shocking. He’s a true, original American legend but it appears that he may still be doing it at this point for the money alone just like Chuck Berry. While I suppose this is true for most bands, it just sounds dirty and wrong to say that he’s making it off the backs of his fans. As a longtime favorite band of mine, I will still continue to be a fan of Buzz and The Melvins… but under protest from here on out. It’s always cool when a band doesn’t give a fuck, does what it wants and spits in the face of all opposition; it just isn’t as satisfying when it’s your face.