 Murder City Devils 1998:
Unabashed, In-Your-Face, Rockcore for
the Cynical
by J. Kim
With so many
people muddling through their lives and working
in jobs they hate, cynicism and apathy have
become the unofficial languages of the times. Murder City
Devils frontman Spencer Moody speaks no such language.
Instead, he is so completely in love with his
work that joy bursts out of his mouth faster than
words can catch up. Such enthusiasm makes the
average bloke raise a skeptical eye. Can it be
genuine?
It is.
Moody and The Murder City
Devils will not stop until they have
left their mark on modern music. Moody elaborated on their
determination recently over Thai at his favorite
feed shop, Bamboo Garden on Queen Anne.
Moody knew the first time he
heard Iggy Pop's Fun House (after being
a David Bowie fan) that he wanted to be in a
band. Several years later he dropped out of
Sammamish High School, moved to Seattle with
bandmate/guitarist/organist Dan Gallucci, and
ranted for the hardcore band Area 51.
"The worst
things about being in a band are also the best
things because of the risk involved," said Moody. "Its about giving
up jobs, ruining relationships, being gone all
the time. Its a huge risk because if it doesn't
work out, its going to take years to recover my
life. Since I dropped out of high school, any job
I get is going to be some pretty shitty minimum
wage job. The sacrifices are pretty big but
that's what makes it so exciting."
What makes the Murder City
Devils so exciting is they play
unabashed in-your-face-rock without bemoaning
life's eternal sadness and without sounding as
cheesy like an 80s glam metal band. The Murder City
Devils music could easily whip the
Wallflowers, Puff Daddy, Fat Boy Slim, and the
entire swing movement with their hard edge raw
and rollicking sound. Derek Fudesco (bass and
organ), Coady Willis (drums) and Nate Manny
(guitar and bass) share the stage with Gallucci
and Moody, along with their love of tattoos and
black tees. They play in-your-face rockcore with
a punk sensibility but without punk's stringent
aesthetic.
"I still
love punk," said Moody. "At the time
(when they formed Murder City
Devils) it was the scene I was in, I had
a 7" on a punk label, I was hanging out with
punk kids living in a punk house, but that's not
what I was listening to."
Yet their music
could pass for a kissing cousin of punk.
Otherwise, they would not have opened for X
(which Moody called an amazing experience), or
they would not participate in an upcoming X
tribute album. Or they would not share bills with
Zeke or Karp.
Their Sub Pop
CD, Empty
Bottles, Broken Hearts, fits better in the
broad rock genre than in any narrowing subgenre
or subculture. Fast or slow, every song swaggers
off the record with more bravado than Matt
Dillon's character in The Outsiders.
They use a Farfisa organ in part to capture the
boldness of the Stooges, but also to distinguish
themselves from the rock rat race. The band laces
the creepy Ed Wood movie feel of the organ into
the raucous guitars for a sound all their own.
If you can
contribute to this kind of genre that's changed
so little in its fairly young life, said Moody, If you can give as much
as you've taken, that's when you've really left a
permanent mark. We've all taken a lot from rock.
Moody related
how people take from rock with a universal
anecdote. "Its when you're 13 and you're
trying to do your homework but you can't
understand it, so you're crying and tears are
staining your paper," said Moody. "But
you have this one record and you keep flipping it
while you're staring at your paper for hours. And
you believe that David Bowie really does care
about all the young dudes and cares about you.
Its knowing there's something else out there,
beyond the world you've been given - your family,
your school - you know there is an outside world
out there."
Singing for the Murder City
Devils has transported Moody to the
outside world to places like Albuquerque, where
their roadie Gabe got blindsided and hospitalized
by a beer bottle. Music has taken him to Uncle
Rocky's, where they shared a bill with Deadbolt
and Moody had his only physical confrontation
with a heckling audience member. Moody slammed
him against a wall and informed him that if he
did not like the music, perhaps he should
consider not standing in the front row.
His career has
also brought him to Baltimore several times.
Calling it the ultimate John Waters fetish, Moody
adores Baltimore. It has sometimes the nation's
highest per capita murder rate, it has the worst
schools, the highest rate of heroin overdoses in
the emergency rooms, and a huge portion of the
city has been abandoned, said Moody. And the
waterfront is a disgrace - the whole idea of
tourists going to Baltimore is absurd.
The folk art
painted on window screens throughout that city
has inspired Moody to create the lyrics for his
band. The other four collaborate to write the
band's music, but Moody alone writes the words,
then everyone pieces the two together.
With this
pressure upon him, Moody has turned to unusual
sources for inspiration, the most influential
being the fundamentalist Christian cable channel,
the Trinity Christian Network. As he begins to
describe his divine inspiration, his eyes grew
too big for his glasses and he could hardly stay
seated in the restaurant booth.
"The way
they perform their sermons, more than any other
band, that's what I've been trying to
emulate," said a non-religious Moody.
"To create something like that is so insane,
they're not really saying anything other than
repeating a few things over and over, but the way
that they present it is so outlandish."
"They all
look like Liberace and they have these huge
million dollar sets and they just take their
bullshit to the ultimate level. Its exactly what
Marilyn Manson does and its exactly what a rock
show should do."
Murder City
Devils have not resorted to elaborate
stage set-ups, beyond lighting
their drums on fire, and the wardrobe has
stayed pretty sedate. Moody wears Oxford shirts
because he likes shirts with collars. Instead
they rely on their music and Moody's theatrics
and howling.
"About 75
percent of the time, I know I'm good at what I
do, but I do not pretend to have any musical
ability," said Moody. Iggy Pop, Lou Reed and
Bob Dylan inspired him because they lacked
classic voices but profoundly connected with
their audience. The band paid tribute to Iggy Pop
on their last album with the song, "Broken
Glass." Iggy, I like the taste of your
sweat, Moody howls on that song.
Moody sounds
like Jim Morrison would have had Morrison smoked
less pot and drank more whiskey. Moody has been
compared to Henry Rollins by the Stranger.
Several months
ago, the Murder City
Devils received overnight Seattle
darling status, suddenly they appeared in every
paper and on every stage.
"It was
obviously really exciting getting so much
attention so fast, but then there were all these
people talking shit about superficial
stuff," said Moody. "It was like there
was a paragraph about us and nothing about the
music. Sean Nelson (of the Stranger)
had never seen us but he said we were not there
for the music, just to be seen and he said my
singing was Rollinsesque blowetry. It was just
weird having your feelings hurt by total
strangers."
About an hour
after describing the Sean Nelson incident and at the end
of our lunch, a teenager approached the table to
tell Moody how much she really
loved his music. She said she had just seen him
on MTV and overheard our conversation and just
had to tell him how much she loved his band. He
politely explained his band had never been on MTV
and that she had him confused with Sean Nelson, who fronts Harvey Danger in
addition to writing music reviews. His
embarrassment at being mistaken for Nelson far outweighed the
teenagers embarrassment for making such a
mistake. However, no one could ever listen to the
two bands and mistake one for another. In fact,
other than perhaps the Makers, the Murder City
Devils resemble no one in Seattle.
Click here for a
1999 interview with Murder City Devils
Pandemonioum
Online's Review of Empty Bottles
Broken Hearts
Live Murder City
Devils Photos !
Email J. Kim
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