Murder Capital - New peripheral visions

It was a bitterly cold day at the end of January and I was (anxiously) waiting to have a chat on Zoom with Cathal Roper, guitarist of the Murder Capital. The anxiety grew thicker and thicker in the face of an unexpected delay - we're talking a good hour - at the end of which the man himself appeared on camera looking like he'd probably just rolled out of bed. But it was, after all, a Saturday morning, and the release of "Blindness", the Dublin band's solid third chapter, was just around the corner, with everything that entailed - the frenzy of preparations and exhaustion chief among them; and in the end, in face-to-face interviews, that's part of the charm of doing it live too.

Hi Cathal, how are you, and how's the wait going before the release of "Blindness"?

It's starting to get exciting. We've been doing press conferences, and I was in Amsterdam and Brussels during the week, for these sort of full press days. Everything's going the right way. It's exciting. It's funny because we've done this before and you start to feel the routine of it. This is the third time, the third record, but you already start to see the same traffic as you go along. I can't wait for it to come out and for people to hear it, because we're very proud of and confident in this work.

After "Gigi's Recovery", part of the audience was expecting a new album with a more melodic tone. As soon as I hit play to listen to "Blindness", I was hit by the energy of "Moonshot": I think it's one of your most powerful songs ever. How did this new record come about?

I think that, thanks to the tour for "Gigi's Recovery", we ended up writing songs that were very "cinematic" and constructive, and we like that. But there's also a certain element of the live shows whose energy we wanted to hold on to, alongside that constructive nature typical of a sophomore record: we missed the energetic attacks of "When I Have Fears". Writing this record, we wanted to recapture some of that energy while also keeping the structural exploration we'd found on "Gigi's Recovery" and pushing it further. I think we achieved a great fusion of our two previous records. And, as with anything new, it really feels like we've solidified our identity and our approach.

What do you think about the direction the current music scene is taking, between alt-rock, post-punk and the like, with some bands heading in a more pop, mainstream-facing direction, and others staying loyal to a darker line and, above all, to energetic live shows?

In this case I don't feel I can speak on behalf of a band, but I think you can't commit so much and dedicate all the time needed to making these records and putting them out if you're not in it in some way. There might be music out there that I don't like and don't listen to, but I respect any musician, whatever they decide to release. That's the direction I want to take. I'd guess there's some truth to the idea that people want to head in a direction that's either more pop or more nonconformist. At the root of it there's definitely some desire, or something like that, that's pushed that person down that particular path.

Were there any particular influences from an artist or band, maybe something you were listening to while you were writing?

It's funny, I haven't listened to much music compared to the other albums, but one band I loved while writing this record was Big Thief, and Buck Meek is an incredible guitarist who genuinely deserves to be compared to David Gilmour. He's doing something truly original, and his approach to melody and guitar is incredibly unique and special. Yeah, honestly, that was the band I listened to the most while writing this record.

The last time I saw you live, you were opening for Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds in Milan, and the setlist surprised me because I heard something new in the style of the songs, yet still consistent with the background of your early days. You even played "Love, Love, Love", which I'd never heard live before. What was the tour with them and with Pearl Jam like?

It was fantastic. Honestly, it was a proper bucket list thing. Maybe bucket list isn't quite the right term, but it's something I'll always look back on, because, as for Pearl Jam, they're a band I was really into when I was sixteen. I think a lot of people at school went through some kind of "Nirvana phase". Within the grunge scene, Pearl Jam's "Ten", that particular album, was really important to me back then. Nick Cave is simply someone I grew up with and came to appreciate even more after turning twenty, rediscovering him later on. They're both heroes of ours. Supporting them is an honour.

As for the writing, you were travelling between London, Dublin, Berlin, Donegal and California. Did anything change in the way you worked together? What was your time in Los Angeles like?

I don't think anything changed in how we worked together during that period, because the approach to writing was the same, but the surroundings were very different. When we were in Berlin it was January, there was a lot of snow and ice everywhere. It was freezing cold. London in spring, Dublin at Christmas, which was lovely. Dublin at that time of year is an incredibly welcoming place. Los Angeles, of course, had simply gorgeous weather the whole time. It was beautiful, but the approach was always the same. We had this idea like: you stay here for two weeks, you show up focused, and then you have a bit of free time. What's Los Angeles like? Los Angeles is a constant string of highs and lows. You come across the best and the worst of people, and it all coexists in one big container, which has its own charm, its own chaos, its own confused charm. As John Congleton put it, there's something special about the fact that artists from all over the country and all over the world end up in Los Angeles, and a community of artists working together forms there. It's like something in the madness draws them in.

Speaking of patriotism, one of the main themes of the album, one of your most intense tracks is "Love Of Country", which, from what I understand, is the most choral one and feels like an open letter, born as a kind of rock odyssey. There's also a strong stylistic imprint à-la Neil Young. How did the creative process for this song unfold?

It came about in two different moments that ended up merging, because Damien (Tuit) had this guitar part written separately, and we wanted to fit it into something; then, on his own, James (McGovern) wrote a poem, which is essentially the whole lyric of "Love Of Country", and showed it to us. We really loved what he'd written and found it truly unique and moving at the time, because it happened a week or two after the Dublin riots, which is what it's about and what it draws its inspiration from. The two of them simply worked together from there. There was definitely a bit of back-and-forth with the arrangement, trying to make it fit. I think at first it was a bit more "epic rock", but that didn't suit the story we wanted to tell. Together with John (Congleton), we realised that keeping it a bit more ramshackle, held together by a string arrangement, worked better.

You've renewed your collaboration with John Congleton once again. What was it like working with him?

We'd worked with him on Gigi's, so there was already a certain trust for what we were about to face. We chose him for that reason, we wanted to make this record with him, we did it with the best of intentions, but also with the awareness that songs can grow and change, and he's the person we trust to make that happen.

“Trailing A Wing” closes the album in a way that's completely opposite to its explosive opening. What's at the end of the tunnel of “Blindness”? A kind of bitter awareness, or maybe some positive turn too?

I think “Blindness” in general, as the album's statement, is an acknowledgment of what happens beneath your focus, of what lives on the periphery of your gaze. So it's not necessarily meant to label the work's message as positive or negative, but there are influences from when we were children, from the environment we grew up in, that live on in our everyday decisions. I think ending the record on completely opposite spectrums, in a way, categorizes the fact that everything lives between these two extremes, shaping our vision and the way we look at the world. And it's important to notice that every so often, to see what the person you're suppressing is really like.

Which track did you enjoy working on the most, and why?

I really enjoyed working on “Trailing A Wing”. I got to properly explore the role of lead guitar in a style I'd played before, but never tried out with the band. It was a different guitar approach from the one I usually use in the band, and it felt very expressive.

What are your expectations for the future, both personally and as a band?

Expectations? Oh, personally, maybe a bit more stability in my life. I hope things go well for all of us. Whatever the next milestone is, we'd love to play bigger, slightly better-known shows, because we love the sense of community we bring to a live show, no matter the size. I hope there's some kind of success that can give us a bit more financial stability; I also hope that this year the whole Spotify and streaming services issue gets addressed in a way that actually matters for musicians, so that we stop bowing to the demands of these profit-making companies while artists suffer and don't earn any income from their work.

I think that's everything. Thanks for your time Cathal, good luck to you and the band with the new album, and see you soon in Milan in May.

Thank you so much, bye!

(22/04/2025)

***

Post-punk against fear

by Michele Corrado

Adding dark, dramatic shades to a sound in the vein of Idles and Fontaines D.C., and benefiting from the wise production of a titan like Flood, Murder Capital's debut, “When I Have Fears”, earned the young Dubliners a prominent place in the ever more vibrant post-punk scene. We exchanged a few words with singer James McGovern, in between tour stops.

Hi James, how are you? Where are you right now?

I'm at the airport right now, since we're on tour.

Let's get straight to your hugely acclaimed debut album. It was practically a unanimous verdict, from both audiences and critics. Were you expecting a reception like that?

You know, those aren't things you really think about while you're making a record, while you're writing and then recording it. So, what can I say, the reactions we've gotten so far have been incredible. The love we feel every time we get up on stage, though, that never stops amazing us. It's wonderful.

The death of a close friend of yours deeply marked “When I Have Fears“. The tracklist almost seems to evolve like the grieving process, moving through different stages: anger, depression, anger again, glimmers of light. Was that effect intentional?

The sequencing of the tracks was done very precisely, there's a reason behind every choice, it's definitely something we spent a lot of time on. So I have to say, the fact that you see something like that in it feels like a success to us. In any case, whatever you see in it is valid.

“When I Have Fears”. What do fears mean to you? Clearly a great source of inspiration, but what else?

Yes, fears are an inspiration. My biggest fear is letting down the people I love, not being there for the people I care about when they need me.

While the rest of the album sticks firmly to post-punk territory, “How The Streets Adore Me Now” instead sounds like the work of a romantic crooner in some smoky cabaret. What kind of music inspired the song?

Well, I love, for instance, Sigur Ros and Mum, who are definitely an influence. Some of Leonard Cohen's songs remind me of “How The Streets Adore Me Now”, more specifically the ones from “Songs Of Love And Hate”.

Punk never dies, but these days it seems to be in particularly good shape, with bands like you, Idles, or Shame, bringing it back to the stages of the world's best festivals. Why is punk so interesting again?

Honestly, I don't know how much we can really be considered punk, not strictly speaking anyway. It's probably down to our attitude. I also think the word is starting to be overused, so much so that personally I'm no longer sure what it even means. Either way, this sound that's emerging now, which links us and the bands you mentioned, is absolutely tied to the current political landscape. That's why it's so interesting.

Right now, Dublin seems to be the place to be if you're after great alternative music. Thanks to you and Fontaines D.C., plenty of year-end lists will be passing through the city. What's this thriving scene like from the inside?

Yes, the Dublin scene, but more broadly the Irish scene, is fantastic. It's a scene where most of us knew each other before we found success, so there's a really lovely atmosphere. We're genuinely close with Fontaines D.C., for instance, I talk to them all the time.

Even though your album was put out by a fairly small label, it benefited from the production of Flood, a man who's had a hand in numerous masterpieces of new wave. What was it like working with him?

It was a huge pleasure. With him we explored every single little crack in the record. By the time we left the studio, we not only had an album, but we knew ourselves better than when we'd walked in. He's a deeply empathetic person and, now, a great friend.

Proverbially, a band like yours should prefer the live dimension to the studio one, but your songs are so full of detail that you seem very much at ease when recording too.

Personally, I couldn't choose, I love both dimensions. For diametrically different reasons.

You've never played in Italy, have you?

Not yet, unfortunately. I really hope to be able to do it very soon.

Thanks so much, James.

Thank you, bye (in italiano).

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Michele Corrado, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition