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Thursday, March 13, 2003
Another UNCLE review, O beloved TTBs!
This one's from a Brit zine called DO SOMETHING PRETTY. What is it with the English and me lately? All those rebel songs of yore would have me Oirish ass hating the lot (never did, honest) but there is evidently some recent karmic konnect wiv 'em - well apart from Tony Blair's and the English antiwar crowd's respective relation to their counterparts here - and I can only say I'm dead chuffed. Milo, let's GO, brother! I'm ready. Meanwhile...
Let's read what Chris Parkin thinks. A stranger to me, Parkin sees what few see, and hears with ears so finely attuned it staggers the imagination. Read and learn, Real Frantic Ones, how one correspondent siezes the very essence of my hopes and efforts and shares that acuity in a short piece of astounding breadth and depth. I picture Parkin bearing a tongue of flame o'er his/her head like the sainted martyrs of legend, guilelessly bearing musical enlightenment for those yearning to bask in its benevolent glow. Are you ready? Are you willing to accept the challenge represented by Parkin's eloquence? Let us - hand in hand - follow Parkin to a better future: one full of kind wisdom, zesty down-home flavor and most excellent tunage. I attribute apostrophic / grammaticational oversights and such to a fervor that seems to have gripped the reviewer's typing fingers when confronted with the majesty of Uncle.
http://www.dosomethingpretty.com/album_reviews.htm#sportmurphy
SPORT MURPHY – UNCLE
When Mike ‘Sport’ Murphy was a small child, his sister had a son and the two were raised as brothers, remaining close throughout their lives until Peter was killed in the line of duty as an NYC fire-fighter, saving lives at the World Trade Centre. Uncle is an attempt to express his anger, sadness and longing for the nephew so tragically snatched away from him. His feelings and sentiments are expressed vividly through gentle, minimalist folk songs that touch the soul and examine the realisation of life’s fragility.
The warmth of the album is surprising, considering the albums inspiration and subject matter, whilst introducing any humour at all is heroic. Opening with the tragic No Fair is a clear indication of the pain and suffering the death of loved ones causes, the search for realisation and the loss of faith. Dealing with Mike’s visits to their old neighbourhood the song takes him back to a childlike world, crying:
that place where hope survives behind the grief / where souls abide in sweet belief / that you’ll be there – your not there / oh god it isn’t fair, no fair.
The sweetly played flutes, piano and gently strummed guitar flow slowly through much of the album with old recorded snippets of Mike and his late nephew messing around as kids. They’re heard singing and taking the piss, putting the record into context – attempting to show us what has been lost. The Americana-esque The Lost Children is heart breaking in its hopefulness, while the stunning cover of Charles Tindley’s gospel tinged What are they doing in heaven declares that there is hope for human kind, even in death.
Every song is beautiful enough, but when partnered with the reason it exists, it shakes the heart to the very core and I could go on all day analysing and examining every song on this record. Like the attack on Peter’s in laws and their wallowing in media celebrity, the thank yous to friends who have helped the family and himself. But it’s the final song The Clang of the Yankee Reaper that best sums up the wonder, sadness and understated beauty of Uncle. Van Dyke's slowly chiming music provides the background to Mike’s little nephew laughing, and in its short burst there lies hope for us all – we all die but the joy we give to others, and the peace we bring, lives on.
Chris Parkin
This one's from a Brit zine called DO SOMETHING PRETTY. What is it with the English and me lately? All those rebel songs of yore would have me Oirish ass hating the lot (never did, honest) but there is evidently some recent karmic konnect wiv 'em - well apart from Tony Blair's and the English antiwar crowd's respective relation to their counterparts here - and I can only say I'm dead chuffed. Milo, let's GO, brother! I'm ready. Meanwhile...
Let's read what Chris Parkin thinks. A stranger to me, Parkin sees what few see, and hears with ears so finely attuned it staggers the imagination. Read and learn, Real Frantic Ones, how one correspondent siezes the very essence of my hopes and efforts and shares that acuity in a short piece of astounding breadth and depth. I picture Parkin bearing a tongue of flame o'er his/her head like the sainted martyrs of legend, guilelessly bearing musical enlightenment for those yearning to bask in its benevolent glow. Are you ready? Are you willing to accept the challenge represented by Parkin's eloquence? Let us - hand in hand - follow Parkin to a better future: one full of kind wisdom, zesty down-home flavor and most excellent tunage. I attribute apostrophic / grammaticational oversights and such to a fervor that seems to have gripped the reviewer's typing fingers when confronted with the majesty of Uncle.
http://www.dosomethingpretty.com/album_reviews.htm#sportmurphy
SPORT MURPHY – UNCLE
When Mike ‘Sport’ Murphy was a small child, his sister had a son and the two were raised as brothers, remaining close throughout their lives until Peter was killed in the line of duty as an NYC fire-fighter, saving lives at the World Trade Centre. Uncle is an attempt to express his anger, sadness and longing for the nephew so tragically snatched away from him. His feelings and sentiments are expressed vividly through gentle, minimalist folk songs that touch the soul and examine the realisation of life’s fragility.
The warmth of the album is surprising, considering the albums inspiration and subject matter, whilst introducing any humour at all is heroic. Opening with the tragic No Fair is a clear indication of the pain and suffering the death of loved ones causes, the search for realisation and the loss of faith. Dealing with Mike’s visits to their old neighbourhood the song takes him back to a childlike world, crying:
that place where hope survives behind the grief / where souls abide in sweet belief / that you’ll be there – your not there / oh god it isn’t fair, no fair.
The sweetly played flutes, piano and gently strummed guitar flow slowly through much of the album with old recorded snippets of Mike and his late nephew messing around as kids. They’re heard singing and taking the piss, putting the record into context – attempting to show us what has been lost. The Americana-esque The Lost Children is heart breaking in its hopefulness, while the stunning cover of Charles Tindley’s gospel tinged What are they doing in heaven declares that there is hope for human kind, even in death.
Every song is beautiful enough, but when partnered with the reason it exists, it shakes the heart to the very core and I could go on all day analysing and examining every song on this record. Like the attack on Peter’s in laws and their wallowing in media celebrity, the thank yous to friends who have helped the family and himself. But it’s the final song The Clang of the Yankee Reaper that best sums up the wonder, sadness and understated beauty of Uncle. Van Dyke's slowly chiming music provides the background to Mike’s little nephew laughing, and in its short burst there lies hope for us all – we all die but the joy we give to others, and the peace we bring, lives on.
Chris Parkin
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