The Picador is one of those dark, dirty bars that isn’t complete without a whiskey and a bar fight – and when a band rolls into town that mentions one or the other, and often both, in their lyrics, you best prepare for a long, long night. The last time I had seen them, they had played on New Year’s Eve for a two show, all night bash; they were already quite besotted during the first set, and by round two – well, I am rather surprised there weren’t pieces of their cello scattered about the city at the end of the night.

When we arrived, Adam Turla, Murder by Death’s singer and songwriter was, of course, busy a few blocks away getting a tattoo. On his arm. Where his guitar would rub the entire night. “It’s just gonna’ hurt, whatever” was about all he could say to the prospect of pain for the remainder of the night.

For leading such a rowdy band, Adam is an incredibly calm man – he sat with his whiskey in his one hand, rubbing the table with the other, and looking down for most of our talk. His voice has that graveled, soothing quality you normally find in sixty-year-old blues players, only crammed into a small, white, bearded throat. When I asked him how in shits-name he had dropped that voice two octaves over the span of three CDs, he almost got embarrassed; during voice lessons, his instructor heard his speaking voice and told him, “‘What the hell are you doing? You should sing lower…’ That’s just how I talk.”

The reason he had sung higher to begin with was a long haul through their past. In college, Adam had thrown house parties, bringing in kegs and bands to entertain the hundred and more who showed up. “Five bucks, you get into a show, and you get a cup for a keg.” The sound system was obviously lacking, and when he formed Murder By Death, originally called Little Joe Gould, higher pitches rang out during practice. “I remember singing higher parts because I could hear them better.”

It’s from humble roots that Murder By Death arose- Adam used the house parties to rally the music scene in his hometown of Bloomington, Indiana, where “everyone is in a band, just not that many people go to shows.” The first full studio album was released in 2002, titled Like The Exorcist, But More Breakdancing. It gained the attention of touring bands who they had booked in their town, and were soon travelling around as well. “We were just doing the tours that we were given.”

It was their second CD that really showed off Adam’s unique writing style. Who Will Survive, And What Will Be Left of Them was an operatic Western epic, a concept album with a hell of a start, and a hellish ending. “I wrote the first song to set up the story and thought, fuck, I could write an EP about this. I ended up writing four songs in a week.”

 Their last two albums, In Bocca Al Lupo and Red of Tooth and Claw, took a short-story approach, abandoning the drawn out plot in exchange for more descriptive bursts of rambunctiousness. “Some songs are real, some are real and fictionalized, and some are fiction,” explained Adam. “I didn’t want to write about the same old shit.” When I questioned whether he considered himself a musician or writer foremost, he laughed and said “I don’t really think of myself as an artiste.” Yet, when I asked him his hope for the future, the normally calm figure leaned forward with a bit of excitement. “I really want to do a movie soundtrack. I’ve applied to all sorts of studios for it. Out of everything, my real passion lies in film.”

Already, the band seems to be branching out. They have been enlisted to write a soundtrack for a sci-fi book by Jeff VanderMeer called Finch. “It’s sort of like Blade Runner – science fiction, real pulpy.” Adam is beginning to think of the next album as well. “I’m actually going out into the woods for however long it takes. Just camp while I write it.”

 When he left to get ready for the show, the interview had been so calm that it was hard to imagine what would follow – most good bands rile up excitement wherever they play, throwing it behind them like snow from under a tire; Murder By Death showers the crowd with it like a snow-blower gone wild. Whiskey was downed, sweat could have filled the empty shot glasses, so more whiskey was downed to keep everyone standing, and two entire albums were played straight through.

It is great to see a band play so hard and for so long – too often they will half-ass shows and take the money. Adam had earlier explained why their shows are always so unforgettable while we were finishing our drinks and wrapping up the interview – “Playing a full room validates your bands existence… it’s just hard work.”

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