Difference of Opinion

Apparently, someone out there thinks that Zippy's column is the perfect place to air musical differences. And that someone would be Steve Pritchard, from the band Picks and Lighters, who emailed the following to me:

"Picks and Lighters will not be seen at the Longbranch on Aug. 1. The owner has decided that their music isn't desirable, they are unruly, and they are bad for business. Instead, they will be replaced by Chunkity and Pegasi 51."

An anonymous source at the Longbranch agreed with this summation. "The owner dislikes their music," this Deep Throat said. "It was his decision they not play here." For the record, the source wanted it known that he, she, or it "loves every one of the boys in the group." Well.

Zippy now must put on his sane and reasonable cap, which is only dragged out on special occasions, and point out that the owner has every right to do what he just did. It is his establishment, and it is his decision which bands will best suit his clientele. And don't even think about bringing the Constitution into this. Last I checked, a saloon in Knoxville is not a governmental body.

Picks and Lighters, however, have scored another gig to appease their die-hard fans and win some new ones. They will be playing at the Bistro on Aug. 7.

And, remember, keep those cards and letters coming to [email protected]. No thought or idea is to small to share with the Zipster.

Which Flavor is Blue?

My toes just dance at the prospect of a good contest. Right now they are positively doing the Macarena. It is quite a sight to behold.

As are the Blue Jams at Sassy Ann's, which take place every Wednesday night. Now, the rest of the world, or at least the rest of Knoxville, will have the chance to hear some of the wonderfulness that is played at these gatherings. Musician Mike James has started recording the aforementioned live sessions and plans to release a CD, once he gathers enough quality material. The proceeds will benefit the "Blues in School" program, which buys instruments and sponsors concerts in the schools to encourage the younger folk to listen to and play the blues, a form that seems like the natural outlet for all of that teenage hormonal angst.

The prospect of being immortalized on that-which-has-replaced-vinyl should bring out some great musicians. But organizer James wants everyone to know that the contest isn't limited to those who eat, sleep, and drink the blues. He "encourages all musicians, professional and amateur, to take part and get a shot at making it onto the CD."

Also, for those who are more visually inclined, there will also be a contest for best cover design. Entry forms are available at Sassy Ann's. Musicians should show up and sign the list as usual.

So what are you waiting for?

A Bonus Interview with a Melvin

With his trollish carriage and fly-away mop of unnaturally kinky black hair, the Melvins' Buzz Osbourne (a.k.a. King Buzzo) cuts one of the strangest figures in indie rock. But make no mistake, the man who fronts the band many credit as inspiring the megatrend that was the Seattle scene (a phenom for which Buzz refuses responsibility, by the way) flat out rocks when he and his sludgy, impossibly heavy three-piece take the stage.

I caught up with Buzzo via phone in preparation for the band's Aug. 3 opening date with Tool here at Knoxville's Civic Coliseum and grilled him about his current plans, his recent exodus from Atlantic Records, and all things Seattle. As expected, Buzz was quite frank—sometimes brutally so.

Buzz and co. currently have a record on famed New York indie AmRep, although he describes the band as "free agents." After three barnstorming (but much under-appreciated) records on Atlantic, the band was recently cut and has moved back to the indies, where they dwelt for more than a decade before the Atlantic signing.

"I like major labels," Buzz admits. "It was fun, and they gave us a lot of money. But they really didn't know what to do with us. They couldn't sell us the way they sold 'Su-gar Ra-ay.' I'm sure if I'd spent a lot of time partying with the people down there or blowing someone at MTV, it would have made a difference. It's who you know and who you blow. That's how it works."

Buzz recalls one instance where he and Atlantic's front-office stooges nearly butted heads—over a side project the band was releasing on AmRep entitled Prick, a rambling feedback-inflected noise-fest with no marketing potential.

"They [Atlantic] got all bent out of shape until they heard it, and then they didn't care what happened to it," he remembers. "It's a great record. We sent a copy to them and then never heard about it again. It was great."

Buzz would later take revenge for any lingering trauma wrought by Atlantic suits, lacing a recent AmRep release with snippets of his phone conversations with the label. "It was a bunch of double-talk nonsense they came up with that I found to be quite amusing," he says. "But a lot of people didn't get the joke, and in fact we took a lot of heat from a lot of people in the press. Whatever. Let the song speak for itself."

Much to his chagrin, Buzz and the Melvins will be forever remembered as the precursors of the Seattle scene, the architects of Grunge with their murky bottom-heavy sound. Buzz and co. left the rainy north Pacific for the sunnier climes of California back in 1987, however, and, aside from an occasional conversation with former Nirvana bassist Kris Novoselic, Osbourne says he has no desire to keep tabs on his Northwest brethren.

"Most of those people are a bunch of cutthroat morons who certainly didn't want to help us out," he says, oozing more than a little contempt. "They were too busy being rock stars before the fact. As soon as I started hearing what they were doing, I was like, 'Okay, now they've taken what we've done and they're doing two-bit versions of it.' Great. They've sanitized it to the point where the moronic public can finally digest it.

"I hated it there. Why else would I have moved? I didn't move away because it was such a great music scene; I moved away because it sucks. No one wants to hear that, though, about what a bunch of idiots most of those people are. Fine. Whatever. I can live in their little world of make-believe where Sub Pop rules and Nirvana are gods and Soundgarden means something and Pearl Jam is actually a viable band. I beg to differ in all regards. I have nothing to do with it, and I want nothing from them."

—Zippy "Prince Zippo" McDuff