Murder by Death

Oh Murder by Death, I don’t get to see you that often but when I do it’s just like coming home (or it would be if my father was a bootlegger during prohibition and my mother worked at a bordello…which is decidedly NOT the case… but you catch my meaning.) A good friend of mine once described the band as incredibly competent musicians who are obsessively engrossed in a very specific genre fiction (in this case the classic western but if John Wayne fought zombies instead of stereotyped Native Americans.) While I completely agree with this, I would take it one step further and say that this obsession makes watching their live performance so much more than just your average alt-rock/country show… it becomes an almost living, breathing folktale. That is to say that if the show had taken place around a campfire in the middle of some lightly populated region of the Rocky Mountains as opposed to the red velvet backdrop of the Petit Campus on a suspiciously warm spring night in Montreal then it would come across even better than it did.

The Indiana four piece: guitarist/vocalist Adam Turla, bassist Matt Armstrong, cellist/pianist Sarah Balliet and drummer Dagan Thogerson took the stage with giant grins on their faces that hid an almost sinister guise. You see, their love of Montreal could not be stifled and for the first time in their nine year history they were finally headlining the city. It was around that time that I knew I was in for something special.

For those unfamiliar with the band, they cut their teeth and developed their country-tinged rock n’ roll sound deep within the trenches of the United States punk scene. Putting out their first two records (2002’s Like the Exorcist but More Breakdancing and 2003’s Who Will Survive and What Will Be Left of Them) on New Jersey punk-staple Eyeball Records before self releasing 2006’s In Bocca Al Lupo on their own Tent Show Records (an imprint of East/West) and finally moving to their current home Vagrant Records for 2008’s Red of Tooth and Claw, the band always stood out from their compatriots (not many punk bands have cellos and pianos that are used for more than stage decorations and faux legitimacy.) While they may have been “the token art band” opening for bands like Thursday, Braid, The Reverend Horton Heat and, oddly enough, Clutch, the band eventually succeeded in developing a dedicated following in their own right, as evidenced by the packed house that came together to hear the gospel as told by Turla that night. It’s hard to imagine anyone left disappointed.

As promised at the start of their set, the band hit tracks from all four of their releases. Further to this, they succeeded in melding all these tunes into one cohesive, flowing set. Now, given the interconnectedness the songs maintain on record, mixing and matching like they did and still creating a compelling whole is a feat in and of itself. Far be it from me to remember the ENTIRE setlist, but I can say that the likes of “Dynamite Mine”, “Fuego”, “Until Morale Improves the Beatings Will Continue”, “Brother”, “Those Who Stayed”, “Ash”, “Devil In Mexico” and my personal favorite “Shiola” were all run through with the requisite amount of wit, grace and intensity one would expect from a Murder by Death show.

Something I’ve noticed is that even throughout the time I’ve known of the band, Turla’s voice has gotten deeper and deeper from record to record. Even his stage banter is in that same “Johnny Cash meets Ben Stein” baritone that cuts you right to the core. Part of me wants to know if he actually talks like that or if it’s just another aspect of his stage persona along with the twirled moustache and the flame-shaped guitar body. I guess I’ll have to wait to find out…though hopefully not another three years. Despite the deceptively intense name (and by that I mean people who haven’t seen them and are idiots will probably think they’re a metal band), Murder by Death are truly one of those bands I have no qualms recommending to pretty much anyone, provided they like whiskey and are prone to hearing a good story. If that happens to be you, I suggest getting your ass over to your local record shop and hearing the gospel for yourself.