Buzz Osborne started The Melvins some 30 years ago, and in all that time he's stayed true to the trio and never strayed. Releasing nearly 30 albums of heavy, sludgy punk-metal has made The Melvins one of the longest-running bands of the first punk wave (or postpunk, depending on your definition). So Osborne’s first solo album—an acoustic one, at that—was more than a small surprise. He succeeds in avoiding the clichés of churning out a “50th generation of Woody Guthrie” (“Who needs it?”). Instead, the first strains of the opening track, “Dark Brown Teeth,” sound like a loose string on a huge tin can, tuned to some warped, bottomless deviation from E, and Osborne’s voice enters, distant and dreamy. The psychedelic veneer continues on “Rough Democracy,” but Osborne takes a slightly doomier, threatening tone. This Machine tumbles along—ragged, rough, and (remarkably) agreeable at moments. His aggressive playing and meaty riffs have surprising appeal in acoustic form. Kudos to the King for charming his subjects anew.