The Sound of Sad and Loud: Inside the Music of The Murderburgers

Glasgow's finest pop-punk export

The Murderburgers Band Photo

It's Fast. It's Catchy. It's a Mental Breakdown in Power Chords.

If you've ever yelled "I HATE MYSELF!" over a killer guitar riff and somehow felt better for it, then congratulations - you've already connected with the music of The Murderburgers. It's like therapy, but louder and cheaper.

The Murderburgers don't just write songs - they confess. Their music is built on three chords, two-minute anthems, and enough emotional baggage to fill a Ryanair carry-on. It's raw and hilarious, heartbreaking and hopeful, often all in the same song. Basically, it's what happens when pop-punk gets honest and stops trying to look cool.

So What Does It Actually Sound Like?

Take a blender. Toss in the Ramones, Screeching Weasel, a splash of Teenage Bottlerocket, a shot of cheap whisky, and a handful of self-loathing. Hit "max speed." That's the Murderburgers sound.

There's no pretentious experimentation, no moody electronic interludes, no 14-minute epics. Just pop-punk at its most distilled and desperate - and somehow, that makes it kind of perfect.

Album by Album: A Crash Course in Sad Bangers

These Are Only Problems (2013)

This album is what you throw on when life feels like a sitcom written by Kafka. It's full of anxiety, social awkwardness, and melodies so sticky they'll live rent-free in your brain for weeks. Fraser's voice cracks with emotion but never loses its punch.

Key tracks: "My Head Is Fucked Again", "Your Hair's Straight But Your Heart's Bent" (what a title!), and "It Better Rain Tomorrow".

The 12 Habits of Highly Defective People (2016)

This one turns the emotional volume up to 11. Fraser dives deeper into depression, isolation, and disappointment - and somehow makes it all sound like a beach party. A pop-punk paradox, and all the better for it.

Key tracks: "December Ruined Everything", "The Waves", and "Christine, I Forgive You" (ouch, that one stings).

What A Mess (2019)

Their final - and arguably best - album. It's a beautiful wreck of a record. Equal parts emotional release and melodic triumph. It sounds like a band aware that this might be the last go-round, and determined to go out swinging (and maybe crying a bit).

But It's Not Just About the Albums

The Murderburgers' EPs, splits, and 7-inches are also a goldmine. Some of their deepest cuts and wildest titles are tucked away in smaller releases, like:

Lyrics: Poetry for the Panic-Prone

Fraser's lyrics are what set the band apart. They aren't just songs about breakups and boredom. They're emotional weather reports. They read like journal entries, full of raw self-awareness, twisted humour, and the kind of honesty that's weirdly comforting.

Here's the thing: sometimes you probably need to hear someone say "I feel like garbage today" in a way that makes you sing along. That's what Murderburgers lyrics do.

Some favourites:

Live Shows: Sweat, Smiles, and Sound Checks Gone Wrong

Seeing The Murderburgers live was like watching a musical exorcism. It was all frantic energy, singalongs, and bad jokes between songs. Fraser would tell stories about losing his passport or vomiting backstage, then launch into another face-melting two-minute classic.

The band didn't just play shows - they lived them. And even if the crowd was small, you'd leave feeling like part of something real. And probably deaf. But in a good way.

So Why Does Their Music Matter?

Because sometimes, music doesn't need to be polished. It needs to be real. The Murderburgers made music for people who are trying their best and failing spectacularly - but who still show up anyway.

They didn't write songs to impress critics. They wrote songs to survive. And in doing that, they gave the rest of us something to hang on to.

Where to Start Listening (if You Haven't Already)

New to the band? Here's a crash course starter pack:

Find them on Bandcamp, Spotify, and probably still tucked in a milk crate at your local DIY venue.

Closing Arguments:

The Murderburgers' music isn't perfect - and that's the point. It's messy, heartfelt, funny, and deeply human. It's the soundtrack to being a lovable disaster.

So go ahead - scream along. Cry a little. Laugh a lot. And never forget that being sad and loud is totally punk rock.