Having spent the last three decades hammering audiences with brilliantly belligerent noise with The Melvins, frontman Buzz Osborne now steps away from the amps and strip things down.
Any concerns he might be going soft or, in his own words, becoming “a half-assed version of Woody Guthrie” as he embraces his folk side are, thankfully, quickly banished when This Machine Kills Artists gets into full flow. The melodies are dark, seething with a sardonic aggression even in their naked state, the sneering vocals rising from a deep, dark well of contempt for the world at large.
At 17 tracks, it becomes a bit of a repetitive slog towards the end, but it’s good to see that this old dog has just as much bite as ever when he strays.
