Melvins and Napalm Death Bring Heavy Metal Reverie To Echo Lounge

Earlier this month, we spoke with Melvins lead singer and guitarist Buzz “King Buzzo” Osborne ahead of the band’s upcoming tour date at the Echo Lounge with Napalm Death. Throughout our 30-minute phone call, Osborne carried himself with a sort of self-aware bombast, promoting his show in the same way that a professional wrestler would an upcoming match.

“As far as our ability to play music, there’s nobody out there that I say rivaled us,” Osborne said. “I think there are some that might be as good as us, but on a good night, I think we’re the best band in the world.”

Perhaps we’re just drinking the King Buzzo Kool-Aid, but Thursday night at the Echo Lounge was one of those good nights for the band. Donning a black robe with his signature crimped gray hair strewn about like a mad scientist, Osborne led the band through an ultra-tight 11-song setlist that touched on all eras of the grunge metal band.

The setlist curiously didn’t feature any songs from the band’s latest record, Thunderball, which was released just hours after the show at midnight. Instead, the band opted for a smattering of cuts from as early as 1991’s Bullhead to as late as 2024’s Tarantula Heart.

This iteration of Melvins features Osborne backed by veteran rocker Steven McDonald on bass and two drummers, Dale Crover and Coady Willis.

Willis and Crover keeping time simultaneously seemed excessive upon entry, but credit to either the Echo Lounge sound team or Osborne’s madcap vision, the mix was so good that we couldn’t imagine the set without those two pummeling kits.

Melvins hit their tightest stride on “A History of Bad Men” from 2006’s A Senile Animal, where the packed Echo Lounge crowd actually stopped battering into each other for a few minutes to appreciate Osborne’s howling (and underrated) vocals.

They wrapped up their set just after 9 p.m., remarkably early for a group that could easily be considered the main draw of the night, but alas, the technical headliner, Napalm Death, took the stage to close out the night.

The crowd thinned out slightly after Melvins’ set, but not enough to keep Napalm Death lead singer Barney Greenway from treating the crowd of a few hundred like a few hundred thousand. He entered the stage careening around each corner, wearing tight suspenders and strutting with the gait of a 1920s boxer. At every turn, Greenway inspired complete chaos in the adoring crowd, with a couple of violent mosh pits and dozens of crowd surfers riding the wave.

Whatever the barricade security staff is being paid at the Echo Lounge, it’s not enough. The speed and efficiency with which they spotted and safely disposed of incoming crowd surfers was as much a spectacle as the music on stage. When patrons weren’t hitting the wave, we noticed the security staff headbanging just enough to remain job-appropriate and clapping after each song. It added so much to the atmosphere.

There are two major notes when talking about a Napalm Death show. Firstly, this was one of the loudest concerts we’ve ever heard in our lives. To be clear, Melvins had the volume of a metal show, through and through, but Napalm Death sounded like the nucleus of an explosion. Such is fitting, given the band’s name.

Secondly, we were capitvated by, and much prefer the hooky hip-shakers like “Amoral,” but found ourselves zoning out during the muddier songs like “Suffer the Children,” which seem to devolve into an incomprehensible shriek-growl call and response. One type reminds us of the best cuts from ’90s NYC outfits like Helmet or Prong. The other seems to specifically cater to an audience not paying much attention to anything but slamming into a stranger on their right.

No matter your taste, a night out with Melvins and Napalm Death evokes the purest feelings that metal has to offer, which is to say total musical exhilaration. It’s experienced in the very best way too, free from navel-gazing guitar solos or facetious satanism in favor of raw, unadulterated vigor from some of the best musicians on the planet.