The Murlocs - Calm Ya Farm Review
On their 7th record, The Murlocs create a lush, country-infused album that shows both skill and enthusiasm in spades.
The Murlocs have spent the last 10 years polishing what they do best; blown out, distorted blues-psych that’s anchored in their garage roots. On their 7th outing, Calm Ya Farm, they branch out, showing a seemingly long-harbored love for country-rock and Americana. Albums such as The Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo and the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St. come to mind, but Calm Ya Farm shines on its own, with each of the Murlocs bringing their own talents and ideas to the table.
Collaboration is the name of the game on this record, and the effect is obvious, bringing lush instrumentation and full-bodied ideas to the table. Tracks such as “Russian Roulette”, “Undone and Unashamed”, and “Catfish” show the band’s ability to work together in shining colors, creating vivid and immersive scenes. Bassist Cook Craig shines throughout, bringing bass lines that both anchor and liven, adding a funky, danceable side to the record. Alongside drummer Matt Blach they become a powerhouse, weaving in and out of the pocket effortlessly, giving each song a distinctive gait. “Initiative” bounces like an overgrown teenager, with “Common Sense Civilian” tumbling behind, while “Queen Pinky” ambles languidly, bringing a moody “Captain Cotton Mouth” trudging in its footsteps. Each track sits well in its place, pushing and pulling the vibes in a way that seems playful, yet calculated.
Vocalist Ambrose Kenny-Smith shows his chops vibrantly, displaying a maturity that has been slowly building since he started the band at 18. The peaks and valleys of “Common Sense Civilian” and “Queen Pinky” show a level of control that seems to have grown with him, and it sounds as though he’s finally settling into his voice with confidence. “Captain Cotton Mouth” and “Catfish” sit together in the middle of the album, full of unusual characters with vocals to match. “Cotton Mouth” oozes with sleaze, highlighting Kenny-Smith’s penchant for writing about intriguing people who are down on their luck, and he sings comfortably in character as he does it. “Catfish” displays a use of backing vocals not always present on Murlocs records, and shows a potential that may be worth paying attention to. A dreamy chorus lays pleasantly on the bed of instrumentation made for it, draped in hazy sunlight filtering through swampy trees. This record shows some of Kenny-Smith’s best lyricism, his ability to create emotion and weight from the surreal, and to bring light to stories not-often told. Scathing criticism of religion, politics, and conspiracy are draped in clever metaphor, creating a whimsy around the not-so-palatable parts of existence. Despite occasionally veering into the cliche (“Smithereens”), the majority of the record shines as collected poetry.
The record’s weak points are few, but they loom, following along at the end of an otherwise well thought, cohesive album. “Smithereens” misses the mark, seeming unfinished and empty, contrasting heavily with earlier tracks that are well-thought and oozing with rhythmic interest. An uninteresting vocal take paired with weak lyrics makes for a tough listen, with the instrumentation offering nothing to distract while cheesy backing vocals seem to just rub it in. “Aletophyte” too, brings little to the table, and despite relatively appealing instrumentation and vocals, it falls flat following a record with such a bounty of well constructed moods. The lyrical content seems mismatched to the tone of the track, and compared to how seamlessly the lyrics fit in tracks such as “Queen Pinky” and “Captain Cotton Mouth”, it leaves much to be desired.
All is not lost, however, as “Forbidden Toad” brings an instrumental conversation between the band members, injecting some life into the end of the record. It proves something made clear by “Russian Roulette” and “Common Sense Civilian”, that even with no vocals at all, The Murlocs are extremely adept at creating interesting and well crafted songs that tell a story with no words at all.
Craig and Kenny-Smith seem to have taken influence from their other band, six member psych-freak-rock outfit King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, bringing experience from the heavily collaborative collective to The Murlocs’ studio. Each member brings exceptional talent to the table, Cal Shortal’s restrained guitar riffs playing a delightful tug-of-war with Craig’s bass, and Kenny-Smith’s vocals running circles with Tim Karmouche’s honky-tonk keyboards. It sounds as though the band genuinely had fun making this record, and it further shows just how important collaboration is to their sound. Despite shortcomings, Calm Ya Farm stands proudly on its own, showcasing The Murlocs’ ability to work within constraints, stretching and pushing a well defined genre to make it their own.