Posted 11:07 PM by sport

Here's an interesting take on Uncle which ran in the conservative paper The New York Sun. I'll comment a bit afterwards.

By MARTIN EDLUND

In the immediate aftermath of September 11, art rang false. It seemed
too articulate, too artful.Thank goodness for the slow-moving machinery of
the music business that it gave us even a short moment of silence.

When songs about 9/11 did come -- and it wasn¹t long -- they were an
inadequate answer to the silence that preceded them.They didn¹t feel like
acts of catharsis so much as dashedoff works of opportunism. Neil Young¹s
"Let¹s Roll" -- rushed from recording studio to record store -- was unequal to
the complexity of our emotions; Paul McCartney¹s "Freedom" was an empty
battle cry; Steve Earle¹s "John Walker¹s Blues" was misguided; and Alan
Jackson¹s "Where Were You" was just plain stupid. Only Bruce Springsteen¹s
album, "The Rising," did even partial justice to its subject.

Today, more than 16 months after the fateful day, we get an altogether
different musical document of 9/11: the album "Uncle" by Mike "Sport"
Murphy. Murphy is not a popular artist on the level of those others. A
long-time New York underground musician, he is known only to indie-rock
obsessives. Perhaps as a result, his offering is less ambitious. Murphy
speaks only for himself, and only to an intended audience of one: His
nephew, Peter Vega, a firefighter who died at the World Trade Center site.

A devotee of Stephen Foster, Brian Wilson, and the composer Charles
Ives, Murphy¹s songs cover a range of styles. But more important than their
musical variety is the multiplicity of emotions they touch on. The album
begins with the song "No Fair," which recalls Murphy¹s visits to his old
neighborhood in the confusing weeks after 9/11 -- before Pete¹s death was
confirmed.The chorus includes the childish plea "Oh no, it isn¹t fair / no
fair," sung to a weeping violin.

The album continues, journal-like, through a range of emotions: hope,
sorrow, anger, gratitude."Bad Guest" and "Played by Linda Blair" examine the
extra stress Pete¹s death puts on already-strained family relations. "Miles
Across the Sea" and the Beach Boys-inspired "Paul LaGrutta" thank friends
for their support.

Murphy and Pete were about the same age, and they grew up as brothers
rather than uncle and nephew. "Uncle" includes many of their in-jokes and
private messages; it¹s a privileged glimpse into a close, loving
relationship. In this sense, some of its least-musical aspects are its most
affecting. "Behistun" is a 20-year-old recording of the first song Murphy
ever wrote, submitted with the note: "Pete would collapse in hysterics to
know it made a legit release, and that¹s why it¹s here."

Murphy litters the album with haunting snippets of recordings he and
Pete made together when they were young.Track nine, titled "Welcome to New
Jersey," is a ghostly round sung by the two after a childhood road trip. The
brassy funeral dirge, "In Other Words, Never," ends with young Pete saying,
"Say Goodnight world, I¹m going to sleep now. I want to get up early
tomorrow."

"Uncle" won¹t begin to equal the commercial success of the other 9/11
albums (Springsteen¹s and Jackson¹s are both up for Album of the Year at
next month¹s Grammy¹s). Nor should it; "Uncle" is self-indulgent and
meandering. But its purpose is self-indulgence; in its honesty and humble
ambition -- the desire to memorialize a loved one and vent one¹s own pain --
it succeeds where the others fail.

NOW THEN...

It's clear the guy applauds the thing more from a philosphical standpoint than as "music to enjoy." This doesn't bother me, though; it's another way to skin the cat. There's something valid about his backhanded commentary toward the end, and while it pains me to see the perception expressed that my music "shouldn't" succeed commerically, it is a glimpse into the other side of my dilemma. I spend so much time and effort on this side, I welcome a sober take on the bemusement many of even my staunchest supporters seem to feel toward the work. For example, this from KRS owner Slim Moon:

"There is some stuff that I put out because it just makes sense. It might not be my favorite, but it makes sense. Then sometimes I insist that we put out something like Sport Murphy, which doesn’t make sense at all. I’m moved by music that is personal and autobiographical and kinda corny."

I assume it's cool with Slim that I post that remark, since it's on the KRS website. Now I know Slim would never insult me, and I don't take "corny" as any kind of insult... it's one word for a particular quality I look for in music. Likewise, I don't choose to view this guy's use of "self-indulgent" as a swipe. But put yourself in my position if you can... People who LIKE my stuff can't imagine anyone wanting it! It feels a bit like riding the retard bus. It's not their fault, it's mine. Fully. I make strange, ungainly things. In no way am I discrediting their views, nor do I resent their expression of them. God knows, nobody has put his money where his mouth is for me as fully as Slim, nor have too many writers evidenced the kind of serious, analytical thought regarding my albums as has Martin Edlund. Both indicate real respect along with a strange whiff of benign dismissiveness.

All this seems an odd afterword to a very complimentary review, but it affords a chance to demonstrate why I have such furious push-and-pull convulsions about bothering to make this stuff.