I’m a bit of a late-night writer. It’s when I can get complete peace and quiet to focus on the amazing music I’m sent. Last week though I was casually scrolling through my Instagram feed when I heard a song that stopped me in my tracks. I sat there soaking up the wee clip the reel allowed me to hear before diving off to Bandcamp to hear more. There was something in the tone, something in the way the artist played their acoustic guitar that spoke to me. The artist was a murphy and I ended up sending him a message there and then. My instinct told me this album was gonna be special. I love it when I’m right.
Andrew James Murphy has been here before under the name amateur theatre group, building a quiet following through radio plays and festival appearances. He said that project felt like a return to music after a long absence. This new album, haunt. feels like what comes after that return, when the reasons for writing start to become clearer and more personal. These songs come from a place of reflection shaped by loss, tied closely to Murphy realising he has now lived as long without his father as he did with him. That knowledge sits with you every listen, yet it never overwhelms the music. Instead, it’s your window into understanding the songs.
The album opens with ‘intro’, mere seconds long. It’s the sound of the artist picking up his guitar and settling down to play. We’re ready to begin
‘lune’ opens things up proper and brings us into his world. The melody sits gently against a soft bed of instrumentation that leans into that slowcore and contemporary folk crossover. His voice carries a quiet clarity, never forcing emotion yet allowing it to come through in a natural way. Everything is a careful choice here. The picking style of the guitar, the muted brass section that closes the song its all so minimal yet has maximum impact.
With ‘hymnal’ the mood light dims. There is a reflective quality to the arrangement that mirrors the lyrical themes. “Lord, leave a light on, just to help me in the dark” he implores and you immediately connect. You can hear the influence of artists like Nick Drake and Low in the pacing and the openness of the sound. It feels devotional in its own way, like a conversation that he’s been having internally for years and is only now being put into words. You cannot help but be moved by the heart on your sleeve honesty on show.
‘rushes’ shifts things slightly; the insistent strumming pattern grabs you immediately. This feels like something completely new yet you still know where you are and who you’re listening to. The atmospheric snare drum rattles lend the track an anxious energy that gives your ear another layer to uncover. I’m reminded of the band Caroline in the sparse construction that simultaneously feels rich and full. This is where you notice how carefully Murphy has structured the record. Each track builds on what came before without breaking the spell.
‘untitled #1’ arrives a fragment, almost like a memory captured mid thought. There is something powerful in that lack of definition. It allows you to place your own experiences into the space it creates. These shorter, more abstract pieces give you a moment to absorb what you have felt and just be.
‘veneer’ stands out as one of the more direct moments on the record. Knowing the context behind it adds another layer. Andrew says,
“‘veneer’ is about the struggle to keep going during the most difficult moments of grieving, and to eschew the temptation to join the person who is no longer there. The verses draw comparisons between myself and my father – in this case the person the album is essentially about – while the chorus refrain is a call for help in order to survive.”
Anyone who has ever grieved will recognise those complex emotions in ‘veneer’. It’s constant heartbeat of the strummed guitar, the doubled vocals like the father’s voice echoed in his son. This is powerful songwriting and is undoubtedly my album stand out moment.
‘untitled #2’ mirrors the earlier untitled piece, acting as another pause point. It feels like turning a page slowly, taking a moment before moving forward. These interludes really help in shaping the overall flow, giving you time to sit with what you’ve just heard and felt.
The title track ‘haunt’ closes the album and brings everything together. There is a sense of acceptance here, though not in a neat or resolved way. It’s honest. “There’s a haunt in my makeup (And I’ll never be at peace with you)” The arrangement remains beautifully warm and understated, allowing the emotional weight of the song to come through without distraction. The finish the song he even captures the sound of him putting his guitar down again, perfectly bookending the listening experience. As a closing statement it couldn’t be more perfect.
What stays with me after soaking up haunt for a few days now is how gently it holds something so heavy. These songs earn your attention though meticulous songwriting and stunning performances. You end up feeling different lines landing in new ways depending on where your own head is at that moment. That, for me, is such a rare thing. It speaks to a record that will grow with you as time goes on. I feel like I’ve been trusted with something personal, something that took time to shape and even longer to understand. It also left me with a question sitting in the back of my mind. How do you carry loss while still moving forward? Murphy doesn’t try to answer it for us. He simply shares his side of it and that’s where we meet him. In that common space where we can call all recognise a part of our story in his.
haunt is out now on 10” lathe cut vinyl and cassette. You can check it out over on the a murphy Bandcamp page.
You can follow a murphy on social media here…
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