By Chris Gray
By Corey Deiterman
By Jef With One F
By Chris Gray
By Rocks Off
By Rocks Off
By day, Melissa Bransfield-Waters teaches pre-K tots at the Rise School, a private facility near the Astrodome for kids with disabilities and also those who are developing typically. She's the mother of a toddler daughter and a master's candidate in early childhood/special education. She's also been a youth counselor and an assistant program director for The Kids Exchange Program in Austin.
By night, she becomes Mel Hell -- fierce bassist and feral singer in the trad-punk/psychobilly band Zipperneck. She climbs up on stage at Rudyard's or the Continental Club or the Proletariat and lets down her flaming red hair and cuts loose with a roar that at times barely sounds human, much less demure and female.
But there are a few times when she mixes her two personae, much to the delight of her charges at Rise. "I have to say that this is the thing I am most proud of: I do play guitar for my kids -- every morning we have our little circle time and we sing and stuff," she says. "And the kids I teach are on the verge of being two, and of course they are very defiant and oppositional -- the very definition of punk rock, right? And so Zipperneck does a cover of the Sham 69 song 'No I Don't Wanna' -- it's all about 'I don't wanna go to work' or whatever, all these things you don't wanna do. And so I kinda tweaked it and made a kiddie version of it all about the things kids don't wanna do, and they love it. It was a total hit, and I have kids that are like three, four, five years old now that still love it -- I can hear them going down the halls singing, 'No! I don't wanna!' It's hilarious."
And mixing up roles is kinda what Hell is all about. Punk rock nationally (and probably even more so in Houston) has long been mainly a male affair -- rare local exceptions like Manhole, Stinkerbell and Sybil from Rusted Shut only proving the rule. Hell is trying to change that December 9, with the "Island of the Misfit Boytoys" girl-power Christmas punk show, which will feature Zipperneck, Something Fierce and the Bareknuckle Knockouts, who are led by Alice Sin, formerly of C'Mon C'Mon, Deathkultur BBQ and Manhole.
"We really want to showcase female talent in punk, and what I like about this show is that all of the lead singers of all of these bands like to scream," Hell says. "We are not afraid. We like to emulate our male heroes, and while we are female-fronted bands, we are not anti-male. We really look up to past bands like the Clash, Gun Club, things like that. And when I sing, I'm not really trying to sound like a girl."
It's sad but true, but whenever most white male music critics -- and hell, most white male music fans, too-- come across a band that is not white and male, they assume that all that band's influences have to be white and male. Thus blues legend Bobby Bland could not possibly have been influenced by the painfully white Perry Como, even if Bland himself has said so countless times over the last 50 years. (Look up Bland in Allmusicguide.com, and you'll read that he was influenced exclusively by other black Memphis guys.) And if a band is female, most critics assume that all that band's influences have to be other women -- all female punk bands have to be descended from the Pretenders, Siouxsie and the Banshees and the like.
While Hell does show similarity to some of the punk girls of yore -- Chrissie Hynde especially -- that probably comes from the fact they share primarily male influences, albeit different bands. Hell's favorite bands of today are Louis XIV and Kings of Leon, and her faves from the past are the Ramones, Gun Club, Stiff Little Fingers and the Clash. Save for Gun Club, there's nary a lady in any of those bands; and nor, despite Pete Townshend's semifamous assertion that he was a woman, is there one in the Who, whom Hell calls "probably my biggest influence."
"They were punk before it was punk, and although I can't play anywhere near as well as he does, I was inspired by John Entwistle to start playing bass," Hell says. "The first time I got into the Who I was in high school, and I was like, 'I want to play like him.' "
Hell, whose previous band experience included a vocal-less stint as the bassist in Mustang Lightning, still sees herself as a musician first and a singer second. "I'm a little bummed that I have to be the lead singer because I'm not as focused as I could be on my bass playing," she says. "I don't get to do all my fancy tricks. I try to throw them in every now and then, but it's a challenge for me to play and sing at the same time."
But the fact that she does sing gives her a chance to show off the funny songs she writes and/or sings. Delivered as they are in a series of snarls, growls and hollers, Hell admits that the words are often hard to understand, so she sent me a crib sheet via e-mail giving me the gist of some of her new stuff. (Note: Hell won't likely be playing these songs at circle time at Rise anytime soon): "Time Bomb" is "an L7-esque tune depicting a neurotic chick who's had enough," "Poison Girl" (written by Zipperneck guitarist J.D.) is "not about the infamous Houston bar, but about the girl you love to hate, with daggers in her eyes and venom in her blood." And then there's "Heat Ray," which Hell describes as "an H.G. Wells inspired hip-shaker about alien invasion/female conquest -- the best line is: 'C'mon baby let's procreate before I incinerate you with my heat ray.' "