disBANDed – ep 2: Murderdolls

by davidchrzanowski


Think about every horror B movie you have ever seen. Add 5 blokes dressed in a combination of your mum’s makeup and the contents of your university fancy dress box, and you’ve got the Murderdolls.

I was on holiday in Gibraltar when this album was released in the summer of 2002. I was 15 years old, growing my hair out, my wardrobe consisted of baggy skate trousers and t-shirts including System of a Down, Korn, Green Day; all the major punk and nu-metal bands of the day. I wasn’t chasing girls, I was bugging my parents to get me a guitar so I could write my own songs and start a band, which I did a few months down the line.

I found a record store; chances are it was a Woolworths if my memory is correct, and I got myself a copy of what is still a gem in my collection. I played the cd constantly, not listening to anything else for weeks. When I rediscovered the album 12 years later, I played it over and over, all the old feelings that I felt originally sprouted like the dead rising.

I was also a massive fan of Kerrang magazine. Its affordable, regular print kept me informed on current releases and new bands, and Murderdolls had been on my radar for a while. Consisting on big names like Wednesday13 and Joey Jordison; ex-Slipknot drummer, I was more than excited about this album.

I was already making my first cautious steps into the horror movie genre; eventually I would get a job at Blockbusters and spend a few years trading b-movies with customers. Great times, and a lesson to appreciate your youth.

The album, Beyond the Valley of the Murderdolls; a play on the movie Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, is a juicer filled with horror movie references, trashy goth-punk stench, and a shit load of close-to-the-mark (yet tongue-in-cheek) lyrics about grave robbing, necrophiliacs and cold-blooded murder, sung with the creepy, no messing delivery of Wednesday 13. The guitars with trademark high-gain distortion, playing three chord punk behind melodic riffs and solos make for a timeless thrash-punk sound.

For the first fifthteen seconds, you will be confused, as the classical introduction of the album’s opening song ‘Slit my Wrists’ walks you into the mayhem of the next 47 minutes.The album is a roll call of hilariously wicked, well crafted songs.  

If you have a broad mind and are able to take the contents with the sense of humour the record deserves, then this album will be on your Halloween playlist, along side the godfathers of the horror-punk genre, The Misfits, for years.