By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Steve Brennan
By Joseph Hess
By Allsion Babka
By Kelsey McClure
By RFT Music
By Christian Schaeffer
By Gabriel San Roman
The Melvins are lusty rock teasers, achingly beautiful temptresses who wink and jiggle seductively from across the record aisle while they straddle the line between metal and punk. Then they pinch metal's cheek, blow punk a kiss and jerk off in both suitors' faces. Everybody's got blue balls, except the sticky-pawed, Madonna-whore he-men, those magnificent bastards (whisper their name and touch yourself strangely) the Melvins.
Demonstrating the refractory period of rabbits on ecstasy, the Melvins have sprayed forth their fifth album in just under two years. Electroretard is more of a nooner than a full-fledged Melvins fist-fuck, but a little groping is better than no groping at all, yes? They hop back in the sack with "Gluey Porch Treatments," "Revolve," "Lovely Butterflies" and "Tipping the Lion," trying new positions and some weirdo lighting to make old favorites like unto fresh young lovers once again. "Tipping the Lion," in particular, gets loose and juicy, with Buzz displaying the tender slowhand guitar stylings of a drunken sailor.
But the showpiece of Electroretard -- the full facial, if you will -- is the nine-minute, 49-second tag-team effort the boys make on Pink Floyd's hoary gray chestnut "Interstellar Overdrive." Buzz and Kevin get knotted up and indistinguishable in the clinches, but with drummer Dale "Dirk Diggler" Crover bringing it up the rear, nobody's really paying attention to the guitar and bass, nah'm sayin'? So hot is the action that noted sybarite Bill Clinton is reported to have nervously fingered his cigar and muttered, "Them boys ain't right," after giving the track a listen at an NYC Tower Records. Yeah, but if lovin' the Melvins is wrong, who wants to be right?