Orange County's Melee does good works

Think locally, rock globally

By Andrew Kiraly

No, it's not me-lee. Not me-lie. Not me-leh. It's may-lay, and it means hand-to-hand combat. An ironic name, considering that lead man Chris Cron is less likely to cuff a slobbering gutterpunk upside his spiked head than help the dismal creature find a home. Indeed, that's what a percentage of Melee's record sales is going toward--homes for the abused and neglected--as part of its deal with indie label Sub City. While a portion of most punk rock profits seems to drift toward the more dubious charitable organizations of Pabst and Camel, Melee is donating 5 percent of its royalties from its debut effort, Everyday Behavior, to Orangewood PALS.

Then again, Melee isn't like most punk rock bands. This mellower, pop-tinged outfit--imagine the Ben Folds Five washing off its weary sophistication in a fountain of youth--puts social conscience high on its list of things to do, a seeming rarity in a SoCal punk scene that can strike many as goofy and superficial.

"Actually, being able to donate to a charity was a big draw for us as far as signing with Sub City," Cron says. "That's one of the reasons we have the band, to lift people's spirits. We wanted to do something humanitarian, but something we could really be involved with, something local to us."

Perhaps best of all, Cron's mom approves.

"Yeah, my parents were really encouraging about [donating a percentage of band profits]," says Cron, 22. "They've always been into that kind of stuff. I've been raised a Christian my whole life, so I try and think beyond myself. I mean, I care about myself, to a point, but my life isn't all me, me, me. I guess I feel obligated to help those in need. I have what I need to survive. It's not like I need more clothes."

Through sound and social conscience, Melee easily stands out from the bustle of Warped Tour, which has in recent years become equal parts music festival, skate party and corporate orgy. But Cron is the last one to clamber atop any mohawked high horse. He says last year's six-day stint with the Warped Tour--one of Melee's first jaunts ever--has taught him a few valuable lessons about himself, lessons he's applying this time around. See, for all this good deeds, Cron isn't always one to turn the other cheek when the rigors of touring start to nag at his soul--another canceled gig, another empty tank, another fart in the van. He's a shouter.

"If I've learned anything, it's not to stress and not yell at people when things get hard," he says. "Living in a van with five or six people, it gets kinda cramped, and you learn how to exist with people. I'm usually not the yelling type, but, believe me, when I do, everyone shuts up."--Andrew Kiraly