Murder by Death – Egg & Dart

Not being as connected to the scene as in the past, it took me a month of listening to gothic folk indie act Murder By Death’s latest album, Egg & Dart, to realize it doubled as their swan song.  I actually stumbled across its impending release on Amazon, made a vinyl pre-order and then used some ancient iTunes credit to snag a digital copy to listen to while on a family vacation (our hotel had a decent gym and I’m usually an early riser that needs to be on the move, much to my wife’s despair).  I figured I would give it a good few listens, form an opinion, and move on like usual.  But week after week, I kept coming back for more.

Full disclosure, Murder By Death was one of the first bands I ever fell in and out of love with in my early years as a reviewer.  I still place In Al Bocca Lupa in my all time top 10 albums (“Brother” is one of my most listened to songs), but couldn’t be bothered to listen to most of their output over the last 10 years (Big Dark Love being a notable exception).  They were the type of band that I naively thought should keep making the same album over and over again, and held it against them whenever they evolved.  Hence my shock when Egg & Dart rocketed to the top of my listening habits and months later continues to be my go-to Murder By Death album of choice.

Egg & Dart is like a greatest hits album consisting only of original compositions.  There’s a little something from every part of the band’s discography, but in a fully synthesized way rather than a linear track-by-track stroll through the band’s history.  All the essentials are at their peak, Adam Turla’s vocals are as crisp, haunting and unique as ever, and Sarah Balliet’s cello elevates each track with the timeless finesse the band has honed over its twenty plus years.  But perhaps most importantly are the elegantly crafted, honesty soaked vocals.

Turla bears it all, revisiting themes of truth and redemption that have always been cornerstones in Murder By Death’s narratives.  “Believe” made an immediate connection, emphasizing the band’s tendency for forgiveness in the line, “I want to believe there’s some good in everyone, I want to believe there’s a chance for redemption.”  It’s the same unjustified optimism that first attracted me to “Brother,” only this time the passage of time and experience has pruned away some of that positivity, making for a somber, pensive delivery that is only cautiously positive.  The same can be said about songs like “Sorry,” which channels emotional maturity in each delicate violin string and piano note.  “I love you, I’m sorry, and goodbye,” sings the band in an open letter and declaration of departure, as the song’s protagonist bids adieu to a concluding relationship.  With no ill-will or strained feelings, the message could also serve as a fitting final farewell message to fans.

The band’s final departure takes the form of “Black Velvet Cloak,” an atmospheric six-minute slow burner that is just as heavy on instrumental precision and strings as it is on building a haunting, foggy imagery.  The song channels Murder By Death’s most ethereal qualities, with instrumentals that emerge gradually as if slowly marching through the low fog of a cemetery at dusk. Serving as a funeral-esque march, one can almost imagine the pallbearers carrying the casket of the band’s career, closing in on a burial sight that puts to rest the band’s sprawling twenty-five year career.

And when the final notes play, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more at peace with a band walking into the sunset.  Murder by Death’s breakup coincides with my own mid-life coming of age, and there’s just something about reaching over the hill that makes you realize that nothing is eternal, and that there’s a certain power that comes with going out on your own terms.  Most bands would tend to fizzle away and overstay their welcome, succumbing to obscurity and grasping for relevancy after a quarter of a century. But not, Murder by Death. Egg & Dart is the perfect summation of their career, leaving a fulfilling legacy if they truly never reunite or pick an instrument again.