It’s not often that I get to hear something that sounds genuinely fresh and original, but I missed Murder By Death’s earlier albums, and so Red Of Tooth And Claw comes as a surprise of the more pleasant type. Like some moonshine brew boiled up from equal parts bluegrass misery and rockabilly swagger, it’s a heady liquor that goes down smooth before burning a smoking hole in your torso.
A lot of bands reappropriate imagery to bolster their sound, but Murder By Death don’t simply dress themselves up in sonic costumes – they become their characters, creating a sonic style that matches from collar to cuffs, from the sawing strings to the insouciant lyrics. Red Of Tooth And Claw is seemingly written from the point of view of the time-hopping ghosts of vagrant cowboys - or maybe werewolves, or demons dressed as men - wandering the trails of the deep American Southwest, hunting for work or opportunity in the tough times of a parallel Great Depression.
The atmosphere is conjured by rich dark acoustic tones. Murder By Death are principally a strings band – low-moaning cello and fence-wire guitar – but the air of antiquity is amplified by the subtle use of rich and moody organ patches, bringing to mind some seedy faded bar in a former frontier town where Red Of Tooth And Claw became the name of a live cabaret of dark anthems for the down, defeated and murderous.
From the defiant malice of album opener “Comin’ Home” to the closing self-destruction catalogue of “Spring Break 1899”, frontman Adam Turla is the black heart and broken soul of Red Of Tooth And Claw, his down’n'out dulcet baritone coming across like a Rat Packer gone bad, walking away from Vegas with a used gun and a price on his head. Murder By Death focus closely on moral ambiguities in their songs, on tough decisions made by tough people in tough times, and Turla’s urbane croon makes every word believable.
It’s pretty serious stuff, but there’s a vein of dark humour pulsing beneath the skin of Murder By Death, too. The Southern gothic lament of “Ball & Chain” oozes the grudging acceptance of the classic bad-partners tales, while the barely-sublimated sexual frustration of “Fuego!” has a subtle erotic power hiding behind its charming yet suggestive wink-and-grin combination. Red Of Tooth And Claw is brooding and sullen, an anti-hero album of magnificent proportions, both melancholic and devil-may-care at once. It’s a fantastic listen, and highly recommended.
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Posted in Music reviews |
Tags: Americana, bluegrass, Murder By Death, punk, Red Of Tooth And Claw, rockabilly
