By Noah Hubbell
By Kiernan Maletsky
By Tom Murphy
By Noah Hubbell
By Alex Distefano
By Darryl Smyers
By Jon Solomon
By Britt Chester
We don't have tattoos on our necks. We don't write songs about feelings and stuff. And we certainly don't scream enough. We're probably going to get eaten alive."
Matt Armstrong, bassist for the Bloomington, Indiana, quintet Murder By Death, is scared shitless. It's two years ago, and his band is in the midst of its first tour of the hardcore stronghold known as the East Coast. "We played these shows that were just hardcore band, hardcore band, usand then six more hardcore bands," he remembers. "We were kind of the odd duck of the batch. It made me nervous as hell. I was thinking, ŒDude, people are going to kill us with knives.'"
Armstrong's group is not quite what you'd call hardcore. Although the majority of today's more pugnacious punk-metal-emo acts invariably have the words "blood," "bleed," "bled," "die," "dying" or "death" in their names, that's not enough to push Murder By Death into the same category. Piano, cello and spooky crooning don't help, either. In fact, Murder By Death is more Black Heart Procession than Black Flag, more Pleasure Forever than Victim in Pain. The outfit's new album, Who Will Survive and What Will Be Left of Them?, is a dark rock opera, a spidery song cycle detailing an infernal cataclysm that has fallen over a small Western town. Stylistically, it's dizzying: Lynchings, whiskey and the Devil are all stars of the story, a sour mash of magic realism and near-vaudevillian theatricality; the music sounds like Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" swinging neck and neck with Leonard Cohen's "The Stranger Song." Not exactly anyone's first choice for a mosh-pit soundtrack.
"Most of the touring we've done has been in these kind of hardcore circuits, but we've never dealt with a really hostile audience. We've been lucky that way," says drummer Alex Schrodt. "A few months ago, we did a short tour with this Italian goth-metal band called Lacuna Coil, which was ridiculously fun. I was the only drummer that week without a drum cage. There were no rock-and-roll kids or anything at these shows; it was just metal dudes with metal hair playing air guitar through your set. We were not really their cup of tea. But they were very receptive people. Since we don't specifically fit into any sort of genre, we can be flexible with the shows we play. We feel lucky that we can bounce around like that."
Almost every young band nowadays brags about how its music transcends scenes and genres. Most are totally full of shit. Murder By Death, however, might just have the brains -- not to mention the songs -- to back up such a statement. Formed in 2000 by Schrodt, Armstrong, cellist Sarah Balliet, keyboardist Vincent Edwards and singer/guitarist Adam Turla, the group coalesced in Bloomington's eclectic college-music scene. The home of Indiana University, whose highly regarded music school draws talented kids from all over the country, Bloomington also houses a bounty of amazing and unique underground rock acts, from John Wilkes Booze and the Panoply Academy to Racebannon and British expatriate Scout Niblett. Something about Bloomington just seems to breed originality. Original, that is, except for the suspicious fact that both Racebannon and Murder By Death recently released concept albums with Lucifer himself as the protagonist.
"Best album title, ever," declares Armstrong, referring to Racebannon's new record, Satan's Kicking Yr Dick In. "But it's really just a freaky coincidence. And as far as Satan being a theme in both our albums, where would rock and roll be without the Dark Lord? Why do people throw up the rock horns at a show? They're giving props to the goat. Plus, their story is a little more complicated and out there than ours. Our angle is: There are people hanging from trees. Let's go drink some whiskey."
Regardless of the Mephistophelian intoxicants swimming in Bloomington's water supply, Schrodt insists his hometown scene is a healthy one. "Bloomington is a good scene in the sense that it creates a place where people can just do the kind of music they want to do," he comments. "Really, we're all drastically different bands. Even our musical backgrounds within the band are very different. Sarah, Adam and Vincent have all had some kind of either jazz or classical training, whereas Matt and I are just self-taught rock-and-roll kids.
"The music school apparently sucks the soul out of it for a lot of people," Armstrong continues. "It's almost like a Nazi Germany kind of thing: 'You will practice, and you will not have fun!' A lot of people start punk bands in reaction to that. Also, there's not a whole lot to do in Bloomington except get drunk, so you might as well start a band with your friends and get free beer."
After a few initial practices, Murder By Death -- then called Little Joe Gould after the crackpot Greenwich Village bohemian immortalized by e.e. cummings -- settled on a sound that would inhabit the small patch of land where all five members' tastes overlapped. "Honestly, there's only a few bands we all agree on," admits Schrodt. "Let me see if I can remember them: Prince, Iron Maiden, Tom Waits, the Cure, David Bowie. Oh, and I guess the new band we all agree on is the Darkness."