By Kevin Scott
With a title as sinister as Murderpolis, there’s an assumption that Sparrow and the Workshop’s proclivity for dark, brooding folky-Americana has continued on their third album. And it has, but with a new found confidence that brings an added energy and intensity to the Glasgow-based band. The dark narrative of love’s hold that forms the thematic core of Murderopolis is in sharp focus, and there’s a rockier sound backing songwriter Jill O’Sullivan’s voice, which itself is a thing of absolute wonder.
Murderopolis begins with ‘Valley of Death’, which kicks off with a rhythm not too removed from Jack White’s songbook, before opening up into an enchanting lament. The past tense of opening line “When love was the greatest thing” sets the album’s theme out with a delicacy far removed from the thundering bassline that precedes it.
There’s a gothic charm that heaves in time with the album, one which in places evokes another Scottish name that has embraced Americana, namely Isobel Campbell’s work with Mark Lanegan. Lyrically, Chicago native O’Sullivan is on a par with Campbell - wonderfully poetic throughout with verve and menace in equal measure: “If I had a dime for every time you lied, I’d gather all my change and throw it in your face” from ‘The Faster You Spin’ being just one example.
‘Darkness’ is all thrashed drums and heavy guitar, while the opening vocal and piano section to the stunning ‘Odessa’ enchants. The guitar part sounds like something Arab Strap could have used on an early release, giving much room for O’Sullivan’s silken voice to dominate, haunting like the ghost of a country star. “Odessa, am I asking more than I should know, or am I getting warm” she asks before Nick Parker’s guitar explodes with a heavy rumble.
In a way, the album feels like it is breathing life into death, with rolling basslines and pop melodies warming a foreboding setting; credit to Chvrches’ Iain Cook and Chemikal Underground stalwart Paul Savages’ joint production in that regard. The album feels polished, but with enough grime to keep things on the verge of being sinister. Intensely dirty guitar riffs like on ‘Shock Shock’ or the seemingly effortless power of O’Sullivan on ‘Water Won’t Fall,’ gives Murderopolis a threatening edge and as it progresses the intensity doesn’t give an inch, from the title track’s almost theatrical melody, to the anger of ‘Fame Whore’.
You get the feeling death is never far away from the album, which is why the move to a more positive note in the last couple of tracks provides a huge satisfaction. ‘The Glue That Binds Us’ is uplifting despite the chorus of “I don’t like you anyway, I don’t need you in my life” It’s as if O’Sullivan has broken free from whatever or whoever was trapping her.
Closer ‘Autumn to Winter’ does likewise, the vocal wistful before swelling into a climax, where she’s joined by the rest of the band in a gloriously harmonic final stand before leaving us with a line that reminds us everything is cyclical, that we must rise above what tests us, but be prepared for its return: “When the winter kicks me in, I’ll close my eyes and there you’ll be again”.
An assured album then, and one that sees Sparrow and the Workshop fulfil the potential that was shown on Crystals Fall and Spitting Daggers.
