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Issue
1 Volume 1
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The Best Living: Mark Murphy Murphy's approach, which has inspired many jazz singers including the currently popular American Kurt Elling, is also in part a consequence of some unusual mental architecture. One aspect of this is simple enough: amnesia. If creativity in improvisation is about being different each time, then a simple way to achieve it is forgetfulness. "You never let them know what to expect, unless of course you are one of those stylists who simply repeat. I can't remember what I did yesterday, I can't repeat anyway. I am a creative singer, I am not a stylist. You see those [stylists] are the guys that make money. They create a style and then the records come rolling out like cookies. I don't do that. I can't do it. First of all, I can't remember what I just sang. A bit of a problem. And I am just not a Tony Bennet or a Johnny Mathis. All their records are exactly the same, just different songs. That is probably why they sell like cookies. With me it is 'Oh my God, what am I going to sing next?' In a way I have always done that." Simple memory loss
does not explain it. For one thing, if Murphy truly forgot what "It is all motivated from the words that I have written or the songwriter has written. It is motivated by the harmonics; the emotion is there. Of course, the emotion in words is in the vowel system. Before there were languages there was just a bunch of sounds. The vowels or the sounds the mouth makes naturally with the vocal chords are AEIOU. And a few other languages have yuuu, and weird Scandinavian sounds and of course African click sounds and Chinese sounds. "It is all variegated, but it comes from the cave. There is a beautiful truth to this. I was coaching this girl in Sydney, a Latin girl, and I said for the first eight bars, really exaggerate the vowel sounds, and about six bars in she started to cry because it just opens up the vowel intensity. Then it was a great song so she began combining that in her head with what opens up within the chord system, which is the other part of the emotion, the harmonics. You have got to get the right piano player who can do that. But I am very lucky. In New York because I have one or two or three that really open up the whole thing. "Bobby McFerrin does not use words. He has said so. He won an award from the award givers, and then he had to go over (to sing) and Herbie Hancock walked up on stage and they began to do "Around Midnight", without words you see. The way Herbie voices chords, Bobby's face got all involved. He wasn't saying a word but he felt such feeling coming from Herbie's chords he almost made the sounds he was making into words, into word meaning. It was the only time he sang with emotion. He is such a facile vocal athlete that he doesn't care for the stories. But he will. Give him 20 years and the stories will come out of him." The introspection
apparent in Murphy's conversation provides a counterpoint to his exquisite
showmanship. Indeed, Murphy's dialogue with his art is as intense as the
dialectic of surprise and the predictable that characterises his phrasing.
Mark Murphy the person is also in dialogue with Mark Murphy the singer.
"I don't really think I have Living on the aesthetic edge can exact a toll, Murphy acknowledges. "It is very debilitating. It is because when you do open yourself and you are creative: 'I created something new'. There are some jazz players who mostly play the same solo every night. I can't remember what I did. Every night you need two kinds of adrenalin out there, you leave it on the floor." Perhaps it is his mood - and Murphy is a master of interpreting moods - but he has a less than optimistic view of the current state of jazz music. "Improvisation is a delicate thing. I don't hear -- I hear a little bit of everything now -- I don't hear anyone going anywhere new. To me to make it jazz, you have got to be connected to that drum, or it isn't jazz. The word syncopation. There must be a lot of ways to think of it. I bend over backwards not to say: 'No you can't do it that way'. Stylisation I leave alone. I have to say, the agents have worked it almost to death; pushing it to the brink. Improvisation is so ephemeral and delicate, you just burn people out and you burn out the audiences. The jazz audience can only take so much." Murphy recounts a
story about a gig in Washington DC, performed in the pouring rain. And that may be what is happening to jazz. But in the meantime, we have Murphy, a peerlessly musical singer, who cross-bred his musical roots with the African-American and Latin-American, creating a unique form of prosody, a prosody that is to rap what the Mona Lisa is to a finger painting. "I came out of a musical family. My father and mother met in a Methodist church. My aunt was a jazz pianist in upstate New York. She used to play that organ in that Methodist church, until the minister burned the place down for the insurance money. That is how deep the music went. "There were two grand pianos in the living room they would give little music … all these old ladies would gather in the living room and ooh and ah, and it was cute. And my father was just under fantastic, a wonderful singer. Natural. The voices were always there. We were just naturally singers and musicians. I was always shy and hiding behind my mother's skirts and I wouldn't sing." At 15, Murphy experienced the sensation of making an audience laugh, and he never looked back. He went to New York in 1954 and within three years he had a contract with Decca records. "It was just in time. My father popped off in 1957. The record came out about six months before. He was so pleased. I sometimes wonder: 'Did my record kill him?' You know, because he was so happy. He was such a frustrated singer." Murphy has a wealth of influences, but the one he especially singles out is Peggy Lee. "I learned so much from Peggy Lee about how to arrange a song to get the maximum attention from the audience. Where you give them a lot and where you withdraw it and you keep their attention by always never letting them know what they are going to get. It is very fascinating. It is different layers of rhythm. Different layers, and different layers of dynamics." David James is an eccentric millionaire who writes for BRW as a hobby. He gets a kick out of fully financing albums and tours for young artists with big egos - if you are interested, call him on...now what was that number again?...just a minute, it will come to me...
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More booty lies over the ocean New
twist in dance scene Ring
tones anyone? No
no-no to mono! Sparse
hits empty pits Now
is the Hora Manchester
unties Intelligence is gathered by Major-General Richard Dunbier, RN, QC, VC, FRS (not his real name).
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