Murder By Death at the Middle East Downstairs, May 22

The name sounds scary, doesn't it? Murder. By Death. Redundant. By Redundant. Yeah, I know it's also the name of a movie starring Columbo and his fucked up eyeball. But not everything is as easy to categorize as its name. Take the jellyfish. Sounds like a nice and benign species of sea life. Remember that as you slip into paralysis and plummet into the depths of the sea bed all courtesy of one its nasty bites, Jacques Cousteau.

Murder By Death happens to be a killer band, so to speak, in addition to being a movie with the guy who played the grandfather in Princess Bride to the kid who played Kevin Arnold in the Wonder Years.

Confused? Good. So was I when I went to my local record store (who usually knows their shit) about a year ago to pick up the Murder By Death CD only to find it mistakenly filed away in the Metal/Hardcore section. MBD is about as hardcore as Celine Dion, but what they are, unlike Celine Dion, is a practically uncategorizable band - one that relies on excellent musicianship and songwriting to weave disturbing tales of the murder, the supernatural, and zombies. Oh, and they are not Canadian either.

Hailing from Bloomington, Indiana, these four youngins are musically mature way beyond their years. They carefully craft a sound that is totally unique, yet sprinkles of influences can be heard, especially in their live show. Guitarist and vocalist Adam Turla has perfected his Johnny Cash timber, all while writing murder ballads that would make Nick Cave proud. The band has the subtle bombast of Squirrel Nut Zippers while harkening on the droning, yet awe-inspiring dischord of Godspeed You Black Emperor! and if that ain't enough to check them out, I don't know what else to tell you.

Xteen and I decided to venture into Cambridge to see MBD after she had a nap and I got to see the Red Sox beat up on the Yankees. Going to this show was no slam dunk, as I had called the venue earlier in the afternoon and found out that they would be going on at 10:45. I'm getting too old for this shit, especially on a Monday. But Sleeping Beauty awakened and I was jazzed from a pretty good game and we decided to make the trek into town.

We arrive at the venue about 10 minutes before the band hits the stage (we missed the openers, Metal Hearts and Langhorne Slim, but a buddy of mine raved so much about Langhorne that I bought the CD on a whim...and boy, is it good). Anywho, we find a spot up off the floor (and around a bunch of talkers, natch). The band comes out and my eyes immediately go to cellist (yes, I said cellist) Sarah Balliet. Expressionless and well-dressed, like a porcelain doll, she sits behind her electric cello and drags the bow across the strings and it was "whoa..." from that point on. Far in the back, ultra-tall drummer Alex Schrodt was a dervish behind the kit. Hunched over, he played mostly shuffling beats, yet occasionally threw in such an impressive fill that my jaw dropped. Off to the right was bassist Matt Armstrong, who laid down the important low end, and right in the middle was front man Adam Turla, who was surprisingly captivating without being distracting from the music.

Now, the thing you have to realize about the Middle East Downstairs is that it is probably the absolute WORST sound in the entire Boston area. Makes sense, though. Not a lot of bands come through Cambridge. It's not a big college town.

Anyway, the band was too loud for their mix (meaning the mix should have improved; the band shouldn't have turned down), but Marlee Matlin was behind the soundboard and was too busy flirting with some dumb dude to do anything about it. But when Armstrong's bass buzzed so loud that the floor shook (oh, and he wasn't playing it at the time), I said pretty loudly, "When the fucking bass buzzes so loud that the fucking floor is shaking, you should turn the fucking bass DOWN!" But she didn't hear me. She didn't hear anything. She's Marlee Matlin.

They had a movie screen playing all old silent black and white horror movies behind the band. This couldn't have been a more perfect backdrop for the set and the performance as I was immediately struck at how much noise these four could make and how dense they could sound. This was a good thing.

Their set focused largely on their sophomore effort, Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left Of Them?, a concept album about the Devil who is drinking whiskey in a bar in Mexico when he gets shot in the back during a bar fight. Well, the Devil doesn't like getting shot, especially in the back and double especially not in Mexico, so he goes out and levies his wrath on the town. A truly wonderful and macabre narrative, Turla and the band absolutely nail the mood with shuffling saloon-style tunes punctuated by creepy cello counterpoints. From this disc, the band launched into "Until Morale Improves, The Beatings Will Continue", "A Masters In Reverse Psychology", the spooky "The Desert Is On Fire", the haunting "Three Men Hanging", and the epic "End Of The Line". And for good measure they threw in the most upbeat sounding tune (musically, not lyrically) about zombies I've ever heard, "Killbot2000", which featured Balliet going absolutely apeshit during a cello solo in the middle of the song.

Also receiving a lot of attention was their brand new disc, In Bocca al Lupo, which is out today. A much looser concept than Who Will Survive..., In Bocca al Lupo finds Turla channeling Cash more than ever, yet refining his songwriting skills as the band clicks on all cylinders. For a band that deals with a lot of "noise" in parts, they were remarkably tight as evidenced by the continued macabre tales behind "Boy Decide", "Brother", the chilling "Dynamite Mine", "Sometimes the Line Walks You", and "Steam Rising". Even when the band left the stage for Turla to tackle "Shiola" alone and on an acoustic guitar, the horror vibe was still alive and well.

The mix got a lot better toward the end as the band winded down with an instrumental from their debut Like The Exorcist, But More Breakdancing disc called "Those Who Left". Again, the band was a tornado of sound, stopping and starting again, with Turla's swirling guitars, augmented by Balliet's cello and the remarkable rhythm section. Pretty sure they played more songs than this, but by then, I was completely delirious with a fucking ear infection that has made me more than just a tad irritable.

And a mere 60 minutes after they went on stage, they disembarked into the night as a stagehand shut off the movie projector. I was left, ever-impressed, with how tight they were, how good a singer and frontman Turla was, how much Baillet's cello added to the vibe, and just how impossible it is to do this band justice in words. To attempt to describe them is criminal. You just need to hear for yourself. So...what are you waiting for? It's not THAT scary...

(note...black and white photos of Adam and Sarah were by poster Frank Stallone on the-amb.com. He did a great job).

- Dim.