Murphy Mark L Atty

Information may not be reliable

1982, Melbourne, Australia. I was 17 years old and at one of those clubs that thrived for a year or two then disappeared I can’t remember the name of the club but onstage was a singer unlike any other I had ever witnessed. He seemed to be able to do anything with his voice that he chose. He put shape and form to words through sound. Stretched it, bent it, caressed it and sung it. He recreated recognizable moments in my life without effort in his songs. I would describe him as an emotional genius. Not only did he give expression to my adolescent pangs of love and pain, he enabled them to grow and blossom. The album at the time was “The Artistry of Mark Murphy” and I had just been introduced to his wizardry.
I am a self confessed music junky. I’m now 43 years old and still spend most of my free time in search of new expansive music that can satisfy my voracious appetite; yet I always return to Mark. It’s his honesty, his desire to capture exactly the right mood for the moment that keeps his music clean and fresh and fulfilling and that is what’s most important to me, as a listener.
I’ve loved and laughed to his music, cried to it, lay on the floor drinking it up in ecstasy and even been inspired to write a play about Kerouac and the Beats through his music. Played him to my kids, made lifelong friends through his music, learnt about great songwriters like Billy Strayhorn through him, danced to him at night clubs in London and eventually had the good fortune to make friends with him.

In my searches I keep finding Mark teaming up with exciting fresh musicians and DJ’s creating new collaborations that any other musician of his generation would give their eye teeth for. Most great jazz musicians are remembered nostalgically but Mark doesn’t need to be remembered because he’s here, in the now.
You couldn’t ask any more of an artist except …. More, please, Mark.