Pitchfork

You have to wonder why the hell Mike Patton seems to be constructing an empire out of the Melvins. Out of his Ipecac label's 69 spine numbers, at least 25 are Melvins releases or feature a member of the band. If we create sanctuaries for bald eagles, why can't we make one for the goofball kings of sludge? Through Ipecac, the Melvins have been safe to release a book, a noise album, a handful of seven-inches, a re-release of their first album, and even a trilogy. So what kind of gimmick release could top all this? Try a collection of demos from the band's original lineup.

When listening to Mangled Demos From 1983, it's apparent that hardcore ruled U.S. indie rock in the 80s. Your parents probably met at a Bad Brains show, and you were probably conceived to a Minor Threat tape later that night (thus making you the straight-edge antichrist). It's no wonder, then, that before they played sludge or Dale Crover joined on drums, these drunk-ass punks from an isolated town in Washington state started a hardcore band. "Forgotten Principles", "If You Get Bored", and "Set Me Straight" have all the generic traits of TSOL, DRI, MDC (and any other acronym you can think of), with their surly, semi-guttural vocals, high-pitched buzzing guitars, and drums that suddenly switch to double-time in an attempt to mask that the same riff is played over and over. Elsewhere, "Matt Alec" predicts the meandering grunge that the Melvins were known for, and which millions of kids in overpriced Doc Martens would discover after getting into Nirvana. ("It just ain't a Melvins review without a Cobain reference," my hardcore mom used to say.)

The highlight of this amateur collection is the Elks Lodge Christmas radio broadcast of "If You Get Bored". It starts with banter between God-fearing, blue-collar, WASP announcers and a laughably "punk as fuck" Matt Lukin (who would leave after these recordings to eventually form Mudhoney). After the announcers treat the band like cute little kids at a church talent show, Buzz Osbourne and crew proceed to horrify the small town audience with a barrage of blistering noise.

Thank God Buzz and company learned to love Sabbath and gave up on being the next hardcore band to move to L.A. and get prominently featured on cheaply photocopied fliers. The Melvins have made some great albums over time (Lysol, Bullhead, and Stoner Witch among them) yet Mangled Demos probably should have lingered in obscurity, cannibalized on various bootlegs for the inquisitive fan to stumble upon on the internet. Instead, thanks to Ipecac, the world has yet another Melvins record floating around.