That the new Melvins album kicks off with a straightforward rendition

of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (RealAudio

excerpt) isn't all that noteworthy. After all, Kurt Cobain was

a good friend — and something of a protégé —

of the veteran Washington-state band before the song turned the rock

'n' roll world upside down. What is noteworthy is the fact that the

lead vocals here are handled by none other than that infamously debauched

former teen spirit himself, Leif Garrett. The unlikely combination

sets the tone for this most unusual concept album, as the Melvins —

longtime purveyors of a particularly heavy, sinister brand of metal

— play house band to a rotating cast of colleagues and co-conspirators for an eclectic collection of originals and covers.

As the third part of a trilogy — The Maggot was vintage

sludgy Melvins, while The Bootlicker experimented with a quieter,

more reflective sound — The Crybaby isn't a Melvins album

so much as a house party from hell. Lead singer Buzz Osborne cedes the

mic to guests ranging from former Jesus Lizard frontman David Yow to

Hank Williams III, but it's not just the singers that vary wildly, it's

the musical styles as well. The two songs done with Williams —

his fabled grandfather's "Ramblin' Man" and Merle Haggard's

counter-counterculture anthem "Okee From Muskogee" — aren't, as

one might expect, wiseass death-metal put-ons, but faithful, almost

reverential honky-tonk renditions. All things considered, a far more

interesting approach.

Standouts here include "G.I. Joe," written by new Melvins bassist Kevin

Rumantis and performed by ex–Faith No More singer Mike Patton.

Patton sings in a gravelly Leonard Cohen rasp over a thick, metallic

hip-hop beat, and the result sounds as if it could have fallen off of

Tom Waits' Bone Machine. "Spineless" (RealAudio

excerpt), a frenetic, percussion-heavy collaboration with New

York's underrated Skeleton Key, is undoubtedly the most upbeat moment

on the album. The minute-and-a-half "Dry Drunk," co-written by and

starring Yow, is what bludgeoning sounds like. For those looking for

the molasses-slow, anvil-heavy music the Melvins are more notorious for,

"Divorced" is a long, largely instrumental teaming with Tool, while

album closer "Moon Pie" (RealAudio

excerpt), featuring Brutal Truth's Kevin Sharp, is less a song

than a woofer-rattling experiment in terror guaranteed to frighten the

neighbors. There's even a brief jazz interlude, of all things, featuring

Godzik Pink.

A Melvins album? Not exactly. But entertaining? Absolutely.