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Talking about his new album, Unshattered, I caught Peter Murphy on NPR not to long ago saying something to the effect of, “If this album doesn’t make me absolutely famous, I don’t know what will.”

And with self assurance such as that, from a person with a 90’s landmark such as Deep under his solo career belt, I just had to download the album from iTunes.

Well, this late in the game, I don’t know what’s going to make you famous either, Peter, but I don’t think this album is it. Clues came two minutes into the first song, Idle Flow, when my wife asked me after I snuck the CD into her car, “Are you listening to Queensryche?”

Ouch.

It’s that daft baritone combined with overly produced musical arrangements that dulls the senses and causes even the most ardent teenage fan of Goth rock to ponder… What was I doing wearing all that black nail polish anyway?

But it’s not all that bad. I only give the shots because they’re convenient.

Aside from the less than heartfelt delivery of some lyrics, there are some genuine ear-turners. Kiss Myself has to be the only Murphy song ever to feature a harmonica, foreshadowing much of the material’s uplifting side, which is supported consistently throughout with an interesting sprinkling of percussion. The track , along with Piece of You and Thelma Sings to Little Nell, may well be a parent’s ode to some newly born child. That, or I’m just reading my present situation into things as usual.

Blinded Like Saul and The First Stone have a definite Catholic origin to them, but those expecting something as ominous as Stigmata Martyr ought to know better by now. As the heavier sounding tracks, they’re sadly there just to remind the listener how grown up and far removed the singer has become since his days leading Bauhaus.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the best tracks are the ones filled with hope and genuine introspection. The Weight of Love may be an unforgivably upbeat groove, but he touches best his rationale for stepping out of the darkness—the long staple of his career—and into the light.

the actions disappear
and let the love spirit in
the fear inside my head
is just a resistance to
the weight of love
the weight of love
the weight of love

the theater with no name
calls a welcome in
and music fills the cracks
no shadows whispering

Sounds like music to me.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 6th, 2005 at 9:26 pm and is filed under culture, music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.