Generally, when a band is signed to a major label, they tend to smooth out their sound a little bit.

Nobody must have told the Melvins, because their second release on Atlantic is rawer, sludgier, and more experimental.

As I said yesterday, I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to decipher the black hole of the Melvins’  discography, which is itself an obtuse, impenetrable catalogue of twenty-six records, numerous EPs, live albums, and singles. Even lead singer/guitarist King Buzzo (a.k.a. Buzz Osbourne—metal’s other important Osbourne) has admitted that he doesn’t remember what songs are what albums.

But after delving through Spotify listings, fan blogs and countless reviews, I’ve come to the position that Stoner Witch is the absolute cream of the crop. Houdini miiiight be a little more essential, as it showcases more of the band’s complete lack of self seriousness (see: “Sky Pup”), but Stoner Witch has more of what drew me to the Melvins in the first place: slow, putrid, ambient sludge.

“Queen” slows down a Black Sabbath riff and makes it heavier than Tony Iommi ever managed. The eight-minute doom fest “At The Stake” plods at such a monolithic pace that it might as well stand still. “Shevil” drones on with an almost sitar-like pulse while Buzz almost whispers over it. Closer “Lividity” loops a menacing bass riff over ambient noise experiments for nine minutes.

But it’s hardly just creeping, crunching metal. There’s plenty of headbangers on here. “Skweetis” kicks the record off with a bang, clocking in at just over a minute of double-pedaled kick drums and guitar destruction. “Sweet Willy Rollbar” races down the highway on a motorbike made of fire.

And being a Melvins album, it wouldn’t be complete without a healthy dose of experimentalism. “Goose Freight Train” plays like a lounge song, if that lounge was managed by David Lynch.  “Magic Pig Detective” spends more than half of its runtime indulging in speaker-splitting feedback. “June Bug” plays like a collaboration between Can and Black Flag.

But the standout track here is “Revolve,” a grungy, sludgy anthem that sounds radio-ready without compromising anything about the Melvins’ ethos. It’s got riffs, it’s got fuzzy guitar solos, it’s got…hooks? It’s heavy, it’s brutal, and yes, it’s catchy. It’s a molten pop song so good that you might imagine why Atlantic was willing to let them release an album that spent thirty-five of its fifty-minute runtime indulging in sludgy, noisy experimentation.