Guitar riffs make the world go 'round, but in the late '90s, select nu-metal bands cheapened their power with corny lyrics and limp-wristed hip-hop effects. As nu-metal's heyday tumbled into the 2000s, you could count on Tomahawk and Melvins for a riff fix that didn't insult your intelligence. 

While King Buzzo's Melvins departed major label Atlantic for weirder territory, The Jesus Lizard wrapped up their initial run, and guitarist Duane Denison (who I interviewed just before this tour started) began hanging out with Mike Patton, he of too many cult rock bands to list. Result: Tomahawk. 

A quarter-century after Tomahawk's debut album, they're bringing those crazy Melvins on tour. The latter are the bigger name, but the former touring is the bigger deal. Melvins can be seen live on any day ending in "y," while Tomahawk haven't been on the road since 2013. The supergroup (if you must) are doing "promotion" for their "new" record, Tonic Immobility, which came out in 2021. They call the trek "A Huge Waste of Your Time and Money," and I visited Brooklyn Steel on July 28 to see if it is.

Both bands are quartets; Melvins have a double-drummer thing going with Dale Crover and Big Business basher Coady Willis these days. They took to the stage at 8:00, an hour and a half before Tomahawk. No horrible AI visuals here, folks! Just a tomahawk graphic and the band name rendered in an old-timey font, as it was on their eponymous debut.

The four Melvins walked out to a twisted version of our national anthem before Willis (a southpaw) and Crover (a right-hander) delivered the loudest drums I've ever heard in symmetry, liquifying my insides.

Bassist Steven McDonald essentially assumed the "frontman" role, pulling faces and asking us if we wanted to party. It was a great primer, with a mosh pit, "popular" song (a relative concept with a Melvins-type band) "Honey Bucket," and Tomahawk four-stringer Trevor Dunn – for whom this was a hometown show – coming out for the end of the set. He sported a cowboy hat the way ex-Melvin Mark Deutrom used to. His guest spot didn't surprise me, since Dunn has been involved in one or two of the millions and millions of Melvins iterations.

Tomahawk took their sweet time getting on stage, with needless intro music rubbing in the wait. (Full disclosure: general admission show + the need to snap a couple of good photos near the front for an article + a beer = a struggle to maintain your real estate while holding off the bathroom as long as you're able. Every minute became an hour.) 

The first song on the first album kicked off the set, a "Flashback" to the days of old.

Perhaps more songs could've been chosen from this LP, what with the whole 25th anniversary thing. Another minor complaint: I hated to notice a lyric in the song "Doomsday Fatigue" directly referencing COVID, which has the undesired effect of dating the song.

Still, Tomahawk wheeled out some killers, like "Point and Click" and "Captain Midnight." At one point, Tonic Immobility interlude "Eureka" segued into 2003 track "Birdsong," an inspired choice. Denison and drummer John Stanier, who tended to command the rear as Patton and Dunn lit up the audience, almost looked like clones of each other. These are old dudes now. I mean, jeez, Denison is well into his 60s! It's great to see them dial up the attitude in 2026.

The show ended the way it should, with "God Hates a Coward" and Patton donning a mask for some vocal distortion.

When these gigs were announced, Buzzo referred to the tour as a "stone groove." It is. Don't waste your time and money, and go check 'em out. It's heavy riffs and headbanging at its most thought-provoking.

All in-article photos by the author.