Murdocks - Distortionist

In 2010, a crack commando unit of three elite musicians was sent to prison by a civilian court for a crime they didn’t commit.  Their crime?  Not rocking.  These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Austin underground.  Today, still wanted by major labels, they survive as musical soldiers of fortune.  If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…Murdocks.

I was in a whole heap of trouble.  Someone had dropped a dime on my whereabouts to the local junta dictator in exchange for what I hope was a hefty reward.  Being alert at all times paid off once again as I noticed some suspicious characters loitering around the restaurant where I was eating lunch.  Knowing I had less than a minute to make my escape I laid some money on the table for my unfinished meal (always do the right thing, kids) and ducked out the restaurant’s side entrance.  Pursuers were not far behind.  Just as I rounded the corner of the building I heard shouts coupled with the side door being viciously kicked open.  After chasing me for several blocks, the enemy forces had me holed up in an abandoned warehouse.  The warehouse was quickly surrounded, leaving me with no way out.  It was time to call for help from Ripple HQ.

While I can’t recount the short conversation that occurred thanks to my prolific use of profanities, I can politely summarize what was actually communicated.  Commanding Generals Racer and Pope, both of whom received my call for assistance, informed me that there was no need for panic.  Although I thought it to be quite grim, the situation was well at hand.  A GPS tracker on my person told them exactly where I was located, and they had just dispatched an emergency response crew specially trained for just this type of mission.  When I asked how long it would take for this super crew to arrive, the Commanding Generals laughed in unison.  Not three seconds later a jet black van exploded through one of the side walls of the warehouse and skidded to a halt about ten feet from where I stood.


Immediately the windowless side panel door facing me slid open, and the man in the back told me to get in.  I followed orders and jumped into the van.  Before I was seated the man slammed the door shut behind me, yelled at the driver to go, go, go, and we were off.  The van rapidly accelerated pinning me in my seat.  Thank goodness the walls of this warehouse were not reinforced, because the driver chose to ram through the other side wall instead of going out through the hole previously created.  It did work in our favor as the enemy troops merely stood there with mouths agape as the van blew past them in our drive for safety.  Quick introductions followed.  I learned that the three men who rescued me made up the band Murdocks.  The man giving orders was frontman/guitar player Franklin Morris.  Driving the van was drummer David T. Jones, and riding shotgun was bassist Kyle Robarge.

Morris handed me a CD player with a copy of their new album Distortionist and some noise cancelling headphones.  He instructed me to listen to the album while he and Robarge took care of the two jeeps chasing us.  Weapons proficiency had always evaded me, so this seemed like a good idea.  With rapidity I put the CD in the player, activated the noise cancellation, and hit play.  The first song of the album is titled “OMG”, and I would quickly learn that it is characteristic of the entire experience.  It begins innocently enough with a simple drumbeat and plaintive singing laid on top of a delicate guitar line.  Fifteen seconds in the ambush is triggered.  The band hits the nitrous button on all facets of the music pumping the volume level from modest to maximum, instantly escalating the tempo, marking the arrival of the bass with a generous boom, and surprising the listener with unexpected intensity in the vocals.  And that was just the beginning.

My mind was reeling.  Not from the sight of the cart wheeling/exploding jeeps that were formerly closing in on our van, but from the excellence of the music being pumped into my ears.  Frankly, I had a hard time trying to categorize this wonderful music.  Had I heard a band that sounded like this before?  Not really.  Don’t get me wrong, I was certainly able to identify elements that made up this collage of sound.  There were clearly heaping helpings of garage rock, pop punk, vintage pop, and alternative rock swirling around these compositions.  I just had not heard these styles combined in this particular manner before.  The music was certainly aggressive most of the time, but it never sacrificed any melodic sensibility in an effort to pummel the listener.  No, as the album progressed I was amazed to discover that each and every song offered up colossal vocal and musical hooks that needed no time at all to lodge themselves in the deepest recesses of my brain.

Favorite songs were terribly hard to pick out thanks to the whole package being so uniformly excellent.  Early on there is the oft stampeding melancholy of “Bloodsicle”.  A little later the lyrically scathing “Die Together” paints a vivid picture of societal disgust.  “Danger Goat” is an unrelenting punk fueled rave up.  “Sleepy Queen and Charlie Brown” is probably my overall favorite.  In a kind of nostalgic pop perfection the choruses of this song mimic the Monkees’ classic “Daydream Believer”, with the cherry on top being provided afterwards by some heavy downbeat riffing that brings the listener right back to the present.  Drawing the album to a close the Murdocks effectively sum up the musical journey with the track “Widower”.  Several beautiful moments draw to mind classic doo-wop songs (at least to my ears).  Unlike those classic songs that generally dealt with devotion however, the Murdocks’ version instead tells the tale of a man whose heart was cruelly wrenched out of his chest by someone he loved.  Brutal.  On a side note although the lyrical content of the album predominantly conveyed anger about one thing or another, the music itself never left me feeling anything other than glee or happiness.

Twenty minutes later the van pulled into a private airstrip where a plane waited on the runway to airlift me out of the country.  The album concluded just as Morris opened the side door to let me out.  I looked directly into his eyes and told him that while I was tremendously appreciative of the rescue, the music was coming with me.  He chuckled knowingly, shook his head, and replied, “You’re welcome.”  Once I was out of the van the panel door slid shut and it took off for parts unknown.  I watched it depart for the first few seconds and then climbed the stairs into the plane.  The pilot asked if I was ready to leave.  I nodded to him, sat in one of the cabin seats, and hit the play button on the CD player.  The way I figured it, I could listen to Distortionist twice more before we landed and I had to be debriefed.  Sweet!

P.S.:  Go listen to the full album yourself on the band’s website www.the-murdocks.com

-- Penfold

Buy here:  Distortionist
mp3: Distortionist