A Rock and Roll Party at the Paper Tiger as Melvins Hit The Stage

Melvins played at Paper Tiger on Saturday as their “Stop Your Whining” tour comes to a close. Their pioneering sludge was a catalyst in transforming the Seattle grunge scene and gave rise to many heavy rock bands across the music landscape. Along for the ride were Red Kross and Rancid Vat.

Though reluctant, our brave and fearless writer Lauren trekked through the trenches of disenchantment and kinda sorta really had fun for once. Keep reading to find out how the Melvins measured up through her eyes.

Double the Drums Double the Fun

A Rock and Roll Party at the Paper Tiger

This article would be better if I lied and said I’m a huge Melvins fan. In reality, the only thing I’m a huge fan of right now is RuPaul’s Drag Race. Is RuPaul an Alien Oil Baron (as my friend Cob says) – Yes. Do I care? Hell no. I just want a bit of joy for my miserable, dreary, melted brain.

But alas, I saw Melvins perform at the Paper Tiger last night. It added a little more joy back into my hellish head. The only thing I really knew about the Melvins as I walked into the Paper Tiger was the song “Goin’ Blind.” My old friend Richard – whose major interests were UFC fighting, shoplifting Pokemon cards, and grunge music – learned it on guitar for about a month. He and my sister would play it together, shaking the walls of their haunted-ass house. That song was one of my most listened to that year.

My dad accompanied me to the show last night. I’ve probably said this in a past article, but when I was in high school, my mom wouldn’t allow my sister and me to go to any concert – Unless my dad would take us. So the three of us were at the Paper Tiger every month for years. Once my sister and I got old enough, though, we started going to shows on our own. Mostly seeing music we knew my dad probably wouldn’t wanna hear anyway. Because of that, I hadn’t been to a show with him in ages. But my dad was doing his weekly internet search and saw that Melvins were coming to town and begged me to take him. So I got him on the list. Why not?

I wasn’t even gonna write an article about this show. I didn’t even wanna go. But as we were waiting in line to get in, a guy walked past in a “Hunter Thompson for Sheriff” shirt, so I changed my mindset and actually talked to some new people for a change.

I stood in the crowd for the first band, Rancid Vat, taking some notes, taking some pictures, and trying to think of what angle I should use for this article. The only words I had in my head were from all the Drag Race Hallah and I have been watching. Mostly, it was just Adore Delano saying “Party” in her awful, drawling voice.

Thank GOD the second band, Redd Kross, gave me the PERFECT way to combine punk music, drag queens, and the dynamics of my family and friendships into one shitty article. About a third of the way through their set they yelled, “LET’S HAVE A ROCK AND ROLL PARTY – TONIGHT!” FUCK yeah – Party.

So now that this article is finally rockin’ and rollin’, we Finally have a purpose, let’s get into the bands and people I met last night.

Going back to Rancid Vat: Oh boy, where do I start. As I’m in the car writing this, I’m wearing a shirt that says “RANCID VAT THINKS YOU SUCK.” It’s awesome.

Rancid Vat has been touring for 20+ years. It sounds like they wrote their music just about that long ago and haven’t changed a thing. Who cares! The lead singer, Elvis, wore a crown and a white fur cloak.

According to him: “Some kings are born and some earn it… It was destiny I guess.”’

He drank a lot of beer. They all did.

According to a 2021 piece by Voyage San Antonio, Rancid Vat was formed in Portland, Oregon in 1981 by Marla Vee, who was on bass last night, and her late husband, Phil “The Whiskey Rebel” Irwin. Their son, Elvis, has been contributing to the band since. In my notes I wrote that Rancid Vat were “Punk at its very, very rawest.” Honestly, they sounded like the music my friend Cob has been putting out. I really wonder how he’s doing… Last I saw him, he’d won three thousand dollars from a slot machine in a hick bar in middle-of-nowhere America.

He’s a party animal these days I’m guessing. So are Rancid Vat. Their drummer, BoBo, who’s been playing drums now for 34 years to keep himself out of trouble, was telling me about a time that he and another band got completely naked on stage.

“You really couldn’t get away with that these days, could you?” I asked.

“Yeah, you’d probably get arrested.”

Elvis told me another tale about partying at their house in San Marcos with Blowfly and the Dead Kennedys.

“We had a good ol’ time. Blowfly… called me ‘the most evil person in the world.’”

Redd Kross formed in 1979 in Hawthorne, California. Quoting my notes, “Honestly, this band had everything. Matching costumes, sustained vocals, headbanging, slow songs, fast songs.”

Like every band of the night, they dedicated their performance to the “Loudest girl in the front row – Ace Frehley.”

They wore horrendous all-white garments that my camera couldn’t stand. Their songs were chock-full of references to all of my favorite (and least favorite) things: Charles Manson, psychedelic drugs, the counterculture of the ‘60s and ‘70s.

And when Melvins finally stormed on stage, half of Redd Kross (drummer Dale Crover and bassist-vocalist Steve McDonald) stayed playing.

So Finally, almost a thousand useless words later, the part you might actually Finally care about – the Melvins.

They were beautiful. I took no notes. I really couldn’t. I was in my element, and it’s been months since I’ve been able to act like that. Soaked in sweat, packed in with hundreds of groping men (and women). My earrings are falling out, my bra is sliding off, my camera is raised above my head, strap wrapped around my wrists. My head is banging, feet bouncing. I’m using the large guy in front of me as a tripod. I can’t stay in one place longer than a few songs. I have to get every good shot, every good angle, try every configuration of flash brightness and exposure and ISO.

And I’m watching Buzz Osbourne strut around in his black cloak. His white hair is a halo and maybe I’m attracted to this 61 year old man? We won’t get into that…

The eyes sewed onto his coat are the same ones adorning every member of the band. They watch me and the camera and the constant onslaught of stage divers and crowd surfers.

Mr. Steve McDonald loves the camera, loves the crowd. He smiles and snarls and his long hair is tangled in his bass.

Decorating the backdrop of Ace Freheley are two drummers, faces painted, the cement foundation of the hour or so of constant sludge, drudge, heaviness. No one breathes, we are all one.

Maybe it has transcended past a Party. Maybe now we’ve transformed like my skinwalker dog does at 3 am. Maybe now we are Melvins and Melvins are us – nobodies. Or maybe I’m writing this after a very drunken night.

Maybe I need to get out of my head. Keep partying. Like Omar in the crowd, who once partied in the Rio Grande river. (Like, in the river.) Or party like crowdsurfer James at his ninth birthday party, where he played Halo in a videogame truck with all of his best friends. Or party like T Rex, the corgi who watched Melvins’ performance and got massive hearing damage.

“Whose teeth are those?” I asked some guy. He walked away. Party.