If there’s a musician’s musician in blues, it’s Matt “Guitar” Murphy. Murphy developed his style in the churning, innovative postwar Memphis blues scene, where the rough sounds of traditionalists like Howlin’ Wolf coexisted uneasily with the slicker, more sophisticated music being developed by artists like Little Junior Parker, B.B. King, and Bobby “Blue” Bland.
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Despite his impeccable reputation among musicians and aficionados, however, Murphy has never received the popular acclaim that other, lesser talents have come to enjoy. A stint with James Cotton in the 70s, his famous gig as the regular lead guitarist in the original Blues Brothers Band, and a much-publicized appearance in The Blues Brothers in 1980 made his name and face immediately recognizable to many. He’s had a difficult time since then, however, breaking out of the small-club circuit.
Part of the problem may be his own uncompromising nature. Although he’s among the most proficient and versatile instrumentalists in popular music, Murphy refuses to put himself out front for an entire show. His sidemen are usually the finest available, but the singers he hires range from dismal (the parade of Belushi clones he employed directly after leaving the Blues Brothers) to run-of-the-mill (Larry Thurston, the dusky-voiced crooner who’s currently working with him). Murphy clearly considers himself a leader, not a sideman, yet he relegates himself to a sideman’s role for most of his set.
Murphy’s playing on “Billie’s Bounce” was exquisite; effortlessly his fingers coaxed lines of flawless speed and clarity from his instrument, segueing from complex bebop patterns into harsher blues. The saxophone influence was obvious: Murphy’s tone was full-bodied yet light, his vibrato breathlike and delicate. The transition from fleet bop improvisation into a declamatory blues finale was a masterpiece of solo construction. Murphy topped things off with his awesome trademark length-of-the-fret-board run, his muscular fingers skittering along the strings like a spider.
Murphy started out sparse on “Sissy Strut,” laying carefully selected notes into the empty spaces between his rhythm section’s chunky accents; he slowly built his solo into a screaming climax, at times threatening to depart from the melody entirely and escape into free-form improvisation. This was not his flashiest work of the night–no spiderlike runs through the octaves, more reliance on musical imagination than on speed–but it was easily among the most adventurous I’ve heard him attempt. It was utterly successful, probably the most exhilarating music of the evening. He should think seriously about moving farther in that direction.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/James Fraher.
