Is this a revolution?
Is this evolution?
The mantra for the making of this album was, “The evolution will not be compromised”, showing both an understanding of the rich history of the more avant-garde corners of popular music with its nod to Gil Scott-Heron, and of the importance of never standing still. When you are The Murder Capital the most important thing is the art itself, real artists evolve, they shift gears, they are bold. Some bands are happy to be musical Jack Vettriano, painting the same, soulless images, over and over again, safe in the knowledge that the audience who liked the first one, will like the second one, and the third one… That approach betrays a lack of ability, and a fear of the audience. It isn’t the role of the artist to give the audience what they want, it is to introduce them to things they didn’t know they wanted, or needed.
I saw The Murder Capital when they were touring “When I Have Fears” in 2019. I hadn’t ever seen anything quite like it before. I hadn’t felt anything like it ever. You could feel the power of the songs, not inside but literally feel it. There was something physical in the room, it surrounded everyone who was there, moved them, lifted them, healed them. It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.
You had to be there.
“Gigi’s Recovery” doesn’t sound anything like “When I Have Fears”. It is difficult to believe that the same band is responsible for it. This isn’t a change of direction, a step forward, a re-invention, this is evidence that we are no longer in Kansas, Toto. The world has changed, the landscape is different, the air feels heavier, and The Murder Capital have responded appropriately. Songs of faith, for the faithless. Something to believe in for the non-believers. Ironic, because they are worth your faith, you can believe in them.
People yearning for a revival of things that were not all that great the first time around, who desire the coming together of something lumpen may never hear The Murder Capital. Good. This isn’t music for people who want to listen on re-re-peat, ad-nauseous, to the songs of yesterday. No looking back. No standing still. No terrace stomp. No anaemic anthems. Instead poetry, heart and soul, ships in the night that promise to collide.