This is not generally my kind of thing, but Roisin Murphy's album, Hairless
Toys, released this year, is an undeniably brilliant record. It's what you'd call 'rich' from first note to last. As The Guardian says of it, it sounds like she's 'singing from the bottom of a champagne glass' throughout.
Alex Petridis, leading music journalist of the same paper, compares her to David Bowie, Prince and Bjork, leftfield artists who managed to create odd, inventive pop music while still inhabiting the mainstream, which is where Murphy should be but isn't.
Perhaps that has changed slightly since the release of the album. It's been nominated for the Mercury Music Prize, always a source of controversy in the UK in terms of what's included and what's left off. It sits well there and though I'm not familiar with all the other records on there, I hope it wins. It's a sleek, deep, sexy and thought provoking album.
Murphy, when interviewed about the genesis and influences behind the album, talked about the influence of the early nineties New York ball scene. The sound of the record is all moneyed, stylish, dance surface, with all along the sense that somebody is experiencing something of an overwrought, intense nervous breakdown somewhere behind the beats. What I love most about it is the unmistakable echo of Dusty Springfield, one of the greatest torch singers of all, in Murphy's voice and delivery. The first song I've posted here, House of Glass, is all about female fragility and how we find a way to survive all that life throws us. This theme pervades the whole record and Murphy pulls it all off quite beautifully. It's a wonderful album.
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