Murphyland 2025
Reminiscing about the past to define his future, acclaimed singer-songwriter makes the present painfully real.
Infinity
Fifty years after “Lost Generation” found Elliott Murphy marry his romantic view of America to criticism of the States’ contemporary ways, the veteran is still refusing to sail off into the silent sunset with as little creative storm as possible, preferring to soldier on “searching for beauty in brutal world” – and if his first post-pandemic album, “Wonder” from 2022, traded scathing attack on social issues for life-affirming vignettes, its follow-up sees this musician unsheathe poetic pen and melodic wit afresh. “Keeping the faith with rhythm and rhyme” as he puts it, Murphy takes pristine snapshots of sights and sounds that surround us and, as usual, drops a plethora of names and cultural quotes to tie eternal values to momentary pleasures. “I’m not painting it black, I’m just making it real,” intones Elliott, and the palpable truths of “Infinity” are bound to rivet and entertain the listener in equal measure on the half-hour, if eventful, affair where glory and pity blend to lead everybody to the edge of abyss.
The audience would deem it difficult, however, to not delve with a lot of delight into the detailed diorama of opener “Granny Takes A Trip” which goes much farther than simply depicting the London scene of the Sixties and applies scintillating country rock to effervescent psychedelia, while Murphy’s words weave a rich tapestry of aural images that help the chanteur in fathoming his own mortality. Of course, the venerated performer may allow himself to allude to a Neil Diamond riff and Leonard Cohen’s vocal arrangement on, respectively, “The Lion In Winter / The End Of The Game” and “Red Moon Over Paris” – the former a violin-tinged glance over his shoulder, the latter a velveteen twang-wielding look into cosmos – but then, Elliott shoulders acerbic compassion into “Baby Boomers Lament” and shines a warm light into “Fetch Me Water” which are assuredly his own.
With son Gaspard sharing Murphy’s bass and keyboard duties and his long-serving six-string lieutenant Olivier Durand adding exquisite acoustic and slick electric passages to the nine tunes on offer, the New York-born bard’s reveries, such as “Three Shadows” which decries the cheapening of art through attaching a price tag to it, possess a demonic allure. Once intimate cuts like this lull one into false serenity, Elliott’s vocals begin to boom to assault the dreamers via the rockabilly of “Makin’ It Real” that’s muscular and groovy – and sobering, too – only to dissolve the wake-up call in the calm-after-storm of “Night Surfing” to serve up the album’s most touching, lyrical apex. And when the harmonica-oiled blues of “Count My Blessings” delivers a coup de grâce, the veteran’s contradictory defiance of his age and unwillingness to fight the tides of time become arrestingly apparent.
“A longhair till the end” by his own admission, Elliott Murphy is reluctant to proceed “gently into that dark night” – and the songs of “Infinity” render his acceptance of fate magnificent.
*****
