King Buzzo at Club Congress, July 30 2014

On July 30th I went and saw King Buzzo, frontman for the greatest rock band on Earth, perform at Club Congress. I kept putting off buying a ticket for this show, mistakenly believing it was going to be a dull evening watching Buzz Osbourne strum a guitar and croon some new material while sitting on a stool, periodically making aloof chit-chat with the audience.

Oh how wrong I was. Jesus, this man is a born showman. He played unaccompanied acoustic versions of Melvins tunes plus some stuff off his new solo EP, all while stalking and staggering around the stage, veering between demonic menace and rapturous abandon, belting out soulful, perfectly-pitched vocals in the way only Buzzo knows how to do. He played guitar as much like a percussion instrument as a stringed one, and at times seemed almost swallowed up in a passion that took over every cell of his body.

Then, after every few songs, he'd stop, and, almost as if a switch had been thrown in his brain, he'd transform into a jovial, lightning-witted, comedic storyteller, proving that, if he'd taken a different path in life, he'd have made a pretty decent stand-up, if not a great one.

Much of what he had to say referred to his over 30 years in show business, touching on the difficulties the Melvins had gaining any ground in the music industry. He described what it was like opening for Mr. Bungle while they toured in the 90's (“Rumor has it we were booed off the stage. That's not true. We were booed as we got on the stage.”), following up with how an enraged Mike Patton, after reaming out the crowd's eardrums with a solid hour of grinding, distorted white noise, gave himself an enema and shit (shat? It never sounds right) seven feet into the first few rows.

Buzzo held the audience in thrall for over an hour—I could have watched him perform for three times that. He's just that damn good.

One of the best live shows I've ever seen, and I almost considered not going. The last time I saw a live performance was a year ago when my wife and I saw Daikaiju play in a small gallery on Stone Avenue, and that was because local favorites the Mission Creeps, who've we've been acquainted with for several years, were opening for them. I missed the Melvins the last time they came through Tucson in 2009 (though we did catch them in 2008 with Big Business at Plush, now The Flycatcher), so I felt it was important to make an effort this time. I wasn't disappointed. There's something inspiring about watching someone do what they love most, and doing it well.