The Melvins with Honky, 8/10/13, at Trees: Review and Setlist
Sometimes you've just got to stand right at the front, in the middle. Especially when there's two drum kits, both slightly angled in, so if you stand in the right place they're like terrifying speakers positioned exactly for your benefit. Only then does a true sonic assault become apparent, as it is not until you've stood directly in between two drum kits being smashed so hard that both drummers are grimacing and straining, with the kits looking like they may fall apart at any second, that you become one with the crunch. Until then, you are but a day-tripper to the crunch, a music-goer who thinks they might have seen two people drumming at once one time or another, but they were really far away, and it was dark, and anyway, it could have been some scaffolding.
Maybe you saw a band once, and thought they were really, really heavy, and that they made a gigantic noise, but when you really think about it, they only had one drum kit. What were you thinking? You certainly have never experienced the crunch. You might have seen a school band once, and they had like five drum kits, but they had children playing them. Again, the crunch is a mystery to you.
Essentially, to ensure that the loudest (and therefore best) thing is happening directly in your ears at all times, you will need two drum kits, staffed by two fully grown men who seem to really hate their drum kits, and you will need to position these so it's like wearing drum headphones. These men should not be playing beats that compliment each other, filling in gaps to construct a more complex sound. Instead, ensure that both of these men have some sort of psychic connection so that they will play the exact same thing at the exact same time, for exactly twice the noise. Now you are ready for true hearing loss.
The Melvins came to town Saturday night, and I couldn't be more deaf right now if someone had encased my whole head in concrete as the result of a particularly cruel practical joke. Opening up for them was Honky, who are exactly what Ray Wylie Hubbard would sound like if he was driving a rocket-powered car and shouting. That is, southern-fried Texas rock, but at a million miles a second. Nothing particularly stuck, but I remember it being delightful. Honky had but one drummer, but the thing is, it was Dale Crover of the Melvins, a man for whom the word "stamina" and the phrase "conserve your energy" must be confusing uses of the language. He plays drums as if he both wants to play perfectly and get to the end of the set as quickly as possible, in which case he is a human blur, putting complex fills into spaces where most drummers would casually hit a snare once and consider the hi-hat.