Róisín Murphy
Róisín Machine
Skint/BMG
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“I feel my story is still untold, but I make my own happy ending...”
This line, which introduces “Simulation” and repeats at the onset of “Murphy’s Law,” two enthralling pieces contained on Róisín Murphy’s fifth studio effort Róisín Machine, feels strangely prophetic for the Arklow born, (now) London headquartered chanteuse.
For twenty-five years, Murphy has walked her own singular path in popular music—first as one-half of Moloko with Mark Brydon and afterward as a solo act—that has seen her utilize alternative pop, electronic textures, post-modern jazz and host of other sonic mediums. This is to say nothing of her reputation as a top-tier concert presence whose superlative visual aesthetic has been as engrossing as her musical contributions.
However, Murphy often rests at the fringe of wider popular music acceptance and has been more than happy to dwell there. Both Hairless Toys (2015) and Take Her Up the Monto (2016)—Murphy’s third and fourth albums—were devilishly uncompromising art-pop sets not for the faint of heart. The two records were certainly miles away from Overpowered (2007), her venerated sophomore collection that brought Murphy closer to the sort of mainstream exposure that can be a blessing and a curse.
But it is here that we return to that declarative statement sewn into “Simulation” and “Murphy’s Law” because it points to the singer-songwriter’s enduring artistic operating practice: Murphy has always chartered her own destination of where she desired to roam, creatively speaking. The drawback to that freedom meant that Murphy perhaps sacrificed being a household name, but she became something more in the process—a legend among discerning audiophiles everywhere.
Yet the excellence of Róisín Machine signposts that Murphy just might be ready to step further into the conventional spotlight—solely on her eclectic terms, of course.
In its embryonic form, Róisín Machine began ten years earlier during a brainstorming session between the titular heroine and writer-producer-disc jockey Richard Barratt—also known by the dual aliases of Crooked Man or DJ Parrot. Described by British music journalist Lauren Martin in 2016 as the “Patron Saint of the Sheffield Scene,” Barratt, like Murphy, had carefully constructed his own impressive career too. The two longtime friends' mutual love of house music led them to plot out the record which incubated in the background as a steady stream of other projects by Murphy and Barratt ran in the foreground prior to its eventual birth.
In the meantime, a slow drip of singles emerged from the album in that same interval; this completed form of Róisín Machine represents the culmination of their innovative partnership. Murphy and Barratt co-helm the bulk of its scripting and soundboarding.
From the digital pop sprawl of “Simulation” that opens the door on Róisín Machine, to the soaring, operatic funk of “Jealousy” that closes the album on a high, Murphy’s current offering is a crisp, ten-track affair that possesses enough magnetism to cast an unbreakable sonic spell. To do this, Murphy employs a range of references that are dizzying in their scope for those in the know.
As an example, there’s the decadent, electro-R&B of “Something More”—one can trace its origins back to that luxe, post-disco field of play in the early-to-mid-1980s where black pop and dance music were finding a new common ground in nightspot spaces. Murphy also makes room for the disco classicist in her on the cited “Simulation,” a selection that wears its laconic, Donna Summer—circa 1977—sensuality on its sleeve. Other influences such as Sylvester, Prince and Change announce themselves via “Kingdom of Ends,” “Shellfish Mademoiselle” and “Incapable.”
Time—as it demarcates the era-specific lines between Murphy’s sources—is fluid on Róisín Machine as she blends them into a wonderfully idiosyncratic whole. But, for all of Róisín Machine’s affection for the past, Barratt aids Murphy with his exacting production to link the craft of live instrumentation (strings, horns, rhythm work) and the infinite possibilities of studio technology (programming, synthesizers) to ensure that the LP remains a modern-day affair.
As a woman of vocal multitudes, Murphy expresses this expertly on Róisín Machine— she is the siren (“We Got Together”), the romantic confidante (“Game Changer”) and the hedonistic priestess of the clubland variety (“Narcissus”). It is that latter guise that is the common denominator for Róisín Machine, an album that ties all these numerous tales of lust, love and self-discovery together into an unforgettable experience for audiences to escape into.
Upon the record’s conclusion, one is left with the sensation that they’ve just gone through Murphy’s watershed moment. The songstress has only ever answered to her own muse; that she has tendered such a set that is equally entertaining and challenging demonstrates that a balance between accessibility and artistry is achievable. In short, Murphy hasn’t only just made her own “happy ending” as she sang, she has also managed to create a body of work that will bring her undoubtedly remarkable story in song to broader attention—Róisín Machine is an unequivocal triumph.
Notable Tracks: “Jealousy” | “Murphy’s Law” | “Narcissus” | “Simulation”
BUY Róisín Machine via Róisín Murphy’s Official Store
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