Status: Single
City: New York/Paris
State: New York
Country: US
Signup Date: 5/29/2006
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Friday, September 18, 2009
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The new live performance DVD/CD Alive In Paris will be available in stores the first week of October and the CD Audio available on iTunes even before that. It was the last thing I expected when I moved to France nearly 20 years ago - that my career would be celebrated in a wonderful exhibition at the beautiful town hall of the 6th Arrondisement near Boulevard St. Germain on the left bank of Paris. Gilles Pidard from Paris University 7, along with the help of my wife Françoise Viallon-Murphy and my unofficial archivist Franck Dumaine, managed to pull out hundreds of photos, posters, album covers, writings and everything else you can imagine to put together a truly captivating show. The exhibition ran for nearly three weeks and had hundreds of visitors from all over the world. Even I learned some things about myself. The Last of the Rock Stars expo was topped with a concert in the Salles de Fete of the town hall on 26 September 2008. The place was packed - around 500 people they tell me - and I was joined by Olivier Durand and The Normandy All Stars. Gilles arranged for the whole evening to be filmed and recorded and the images really captured the excitement of this very special evening. The only problem was that the balance of the audio was flawed but luckily two of my fans - Xavier and Pierre - came to the rescue. They had recorded the complete concert themselves and their recordings were absolutely perfect! We put it all together with the help of Julius and Mikael in Le Havre and François in Paris and I honestly can say that ALIVE IN PARIS is a fine representation of the excitement both fans and me and my musicians feel each of the one hundred plus nights we hit the stage every year. But this night, in my adopted hometown of Paris was truly an evening that touched my heart and that I will never forget. And I proud to say that I am ALIVE IN PARIS! The DVD/CD Alive In Paris is available in the store here at elliottmurphy.com and the CD Audio version is available at iTunes. DVD Track Listing
1 Intro by Mayor Jean Lecoq
2 Crepescule
3 Black Crow
4 Sonny
5 Green River
6 Pneumonia Alley
7 Ophelia
8 Razzmatazz
9 Canaries in the Mind
10 You Never Know What You’re in For
11 Last of the Rock Stars
12 On Elvis Presley’s Birthday
13 Doctor of Mercy
14 A Touch of Kindness
15 And General Robert E. Lee
16 Diamonds by the Yard
Encore: LA Woman
Encore: Come on Louann CD Track Listing
1 Crepescule
2 Sonny
3 Green River
4 Pneumonia Alley
5 Ophelia
6 Canaries in the Mind
7 You Never Know What You’re in For
8 Last of the Rock Stars
9 On Elvis Presley’s Birthday
10 A Touch of Kindness
11 And General Robert E. Lee
12 Diamonds by the Yard ELLIOTT MURPHY – Vocals, Guitar, Harmonica
OLIVIER DURAND – Guitar, Backing Vocals
ALAN FATRAS – Cajon, Backing Vocals
LAURENT PARDO - Bass, Backing Vocals Video Editing by Julius Lemetais
Sound by Mickaël Mayeu & François Maigret
Cover Design by Chloe
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Thursday, June 18, 2009
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My Many Hometowns... I moved to Paris 20 years ago next month. Can't believe it myself. I've lived here longer than anyplace else in my life, a third of my life and longer then New York City or Long Island. And I've received more mail addressed to me at rue Beauregard then at any other mailbox that has had my name affixed to it. So now I'm trying to think of all the addresses I've had in my life where I stayed longer then a month before my memory starts fading. I've already forgotten most of the shows I've played. (But luckily Oliver remembers them all!) I guess it all started at 99 Stratford Ave., Garden City, Long Island, New York. Well, it really started at Mercy Hospital in Rockville Center, Long Island but Stratford Avenue was my home for the first eleven years of my life. Ninety-nine is a great number full of promise and adventure and the 50's were prosperous and exciting days for my family, my father's Aquashow was running six nights a week with a full house except when it rained and Duke Ellington filled the skies of Flushing Meadows with his amazing indigo harmonies. I remember sitting in those amphitheatre seats with my mother watching the fireworks. Still love fireworks and the way they send me back in time to revisit my childhood awe and wonder. My dad was a depression-era kid from Brooklyn and he made it from poverty to prosperity solely by the force of his wits. Always advised me to have a real profession – doctor or lawyer or such – but I didn't listen. I just wanted the fireworks and I guess rock ‘n roll is pretty close to that. My dad loved cars, was a great mechanic (he would take apart and rebuild my bicycles when he couldn't sleep) and loved bathing in the glory of the New York celebrity life he was living at that time.
Around the time of John F. Kennedy's inauguration we moved to a grand house on 111 10th Street, Garden City, Long Island. From 99 to 111 – wonder what that means – and my Dad opened a restaurant nearby called The Sky Club. There was a political club attached to the restaurant and Robert F. Kennedy and Nelson Rockefeller came to speak. My father was a Republican, believed in the self-made man but I never saw him look so sad as when we (like all of America) watched John F. Kennedy's funeral on black and white TV. I don't believe in conspiracy theories but it just seemed the world went crazy for a while from that terrible day onward. The country lost the Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King and my family lost my father, my cousin and my uncle in quick succession. We hung on in the big house for a few years after my father's death and my formidable mother did a gallant job of trying to keep the restaurant afloat but it was too much for her with three teenage kids and the wolf constantly at the door. The Christmas after my father died there was no money for presents for all of us so my mom bought the family a color TV. I've been addicted to television ever since. So then the magic numbers stopped for a while and my mother moved us into a small but nice house at 72 Bayberry Ave. in the less posh part of Garden City. My sister Michelle came home from college and became a Pam Am stewardess which would dramatically affect my own future; my brother Matthew fell in love with the girl across the street and eventually learned to play the bass; and, I just kept banging away on the guitar, forming bands with high hopes such as The Rapscallions, King James Version, Stud (yes!) and Bang Zoom which were all relegated to the dustbin of rock ‘n roll history sooner then we had imagined. In the late 60's my own On The Road period began with a brief sojourn in St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands where I played at the same club The Mamas and Papas had been the house band a few years before. I did a year and a half at Nassau Community College to beat the draft and studied literature – mostly The Great Gatsby and had two effervescent professors who changed my life. Thought about becoming an actor and did a monologue from Albee's Zoo Story which got me the only A in the class but the guitar was my jealous mistress and I never strayed far. Finally, thanks to my sister's Pan Am connection I got a cheap flight to Europe and my life changed abruptly. Playing on the streets of Rome, passing the hat, a bit part in a Felllini film and a love for Europe that never really went away, I can say now, for here I am today. But that all took a while. In brief: came back to the US via San Francisco, wrote more songs and played open mic nights on Fisherman's Wharf. Got sick, came back east, recovered and hooked back up with my brother Matthew on a mission to get a record contract. And we pounded the streets of Manhattan until that dream finally came true. But even a dream come true become reality and that's where the problems began for me. Too Much Too Soon was the name of my friends The New York Dolls album who were recording at the Record Plant in New York at the same time as me. But it was my story too. My first album Aquashow came out with a very modest promotional push from the record label but the media reaction was overwhelming. And overwhelmed I was. All of a sudden I was everybody but myself. Got married, moved around a few times in Manhattan until we found a nice pre-war two bedroom, 15 floors up on East 72nd Street. The smaller bedroom was my music room and I sat at my Wurlitzer electric piano and wrote "Diamonds By The Yard" while staring at the nightlights of Manhattan. Columbia Records brought two famous London Rock critics up to interview me, thought it would add the personal touch if they visited me at home. They saw my place with Robert Altman posters on the wall and told me punks don't live like this while they devoured my booze. I threw them out. I developed bad habits that took years to admit to and conquer a day at a time. I climbed (or was pushed) up the rock ‘n roll mountain and fell (or jumped) off the other side. Matthew and I had lived at the Drake Hotel, New York City while recording Aquashow and I stayed for 3 months at the Beverly Hills Hotel while making Lost Generation and even longer at London's posh Montcalm hotel during Just A Story From America. I still feel most at home in a room with a number on the door. But by the end of the 70's it all came crashing down, the whole damn facade and I found myself sleeping on a cot in my mother's apartment on East 80th Street. But I still had my old Stratocaster and could still coax a few songs out of it. Looking back, it wasn't so bad – my Mom has always been my biggest fan – and I kept at my music, toured Europe time to time and got real. Then through the aid of a Southern Belle with a heart of gold I got my own place on 26 Gramercy Park South and once ran into Jody Foster in the vestibule of the building during Ronald Reagan's assassination attempt by a deranged fan of hers. I was playing weekly gigs at Tramps, a nearby Blues joint and watering hole and was marking time. The past is the only thing that lasts if you move too fast. Who said that and why didn't I listen? Milwaukee figures in there as well and straightening out for good and another brief but magical marriage but all this moving around is making me dizzy. Suffice it to say that somewhere along the line a friend of mine asked me the hardest question in the world “What do you want to do?” and I was lucid enough to respond “Move to Paris!” and before I knew it there I was on rue de Faubourg Saint Antoine near Bastille, writing songs for 12 and thinking for the first time in my life I'm finally where I want to be. I felt like anything was possible. And it was. I re-found Françoise, the love of my life, and we started to build a home at 26 rue Beauregard (same number as my Gramercy Park address!) on the 5th floor with no elevator 300-year-old building with a panoramic view for this American in Paris. Our son Gaspard was born a year later. From his window you can see Sacre Coeur and from my small terrace I can see the lights of the Eiffel Tower. It's not the mansion on the hill I was dreaming about while trying to get a record contract with my brother Matthew all those years ago but destiny knows best. I'm about as happy as I get here. In fact, I should be happier for a man as blessed as me and I'm working on it every day I am now, for all intents and purposes, a Parisian. What does that mean? It means that I have the right to walk around this magnificently beautiful city – an aesthetic delight, the number one tourist destination in all the world – and I can l complain like all the other Parisians about the traffic, or the Metro strikes or the price of electricity. But I think this is some kind of superstition like if we all admitted how wonderful this city is then it would be taken away from us. And France has been very good to me. People always ask me why I left America and I have to explain that I didn't leave America, in fact I still love it and miss it everyday, but I was on a journey both personal and professional and this is where the rock ‘n roll river let me off for a while. I'm not complaining. Elliott Murphy - June 13, 2009
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Thursday, June 18, 2009
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My Many Hometowns... I moved to Paris 20 years ago next month. Can't believe it myself. I've lived here longer than anyplace else in my life, a third of my life and longer then New York City or Long Island. And I've received more mail addressed to me at rue Beauregard then at any other mailbox that has had my name affixed to it. So now I'm trying to think of all the addresses I've had in my life where I stayed longer then a month before my memory starts fading. I've already forgotten most of the shows I've played. (But luckily Oliver remembers them all!) I guess it all started at 99 Stratford Ave., Garden City, Long Island, New York. Well, it really started at Mercy Hospital in Rockville Center, Long Island but Stratford Avenue was my home for the first eleven years of my life. Ninety-nine is a great number full of promise and adventure and the 50's were prosperous and exciting days for my family, my father's Aquashow was running six nights a week with a full house except when it rained and Duke Ellington filled the skies of Flushing Meadows with his amazing indigo harmonies. I remember sitting in those amphitheatre seats with my mother watching the fireworks. Still love fireworks and the way they send me back in time to revisit my childhood awe and wonder. My dad was a depression-era kid from Brooklyn and he made it from poverty to prosperity solely by the force of his wits. Always advised me to have a real profession – doctor or lawyer or such – but I didn't listen. I just wanted the fireworks and I guess rock ‘n roll is pretty close to that. My dad loved cars, was a great mechanic (he would take apart and rebuild my bicycles when he couldn't sleep) and loved bathing in the glory of the New York celebrity life he was living at that time.
Around the time of John F. Kennedy's inauguration we moved to a grand house on 111 10th Street, Garden City, Long Island. From 99 to 111 – wonder what that means – and my Dad opened a restaurant nearby called The Sky Club. There was a political club attached to the restaurant and Robert F. Kennedy and Nelson Rockefeller came to speak. My father was a Republican, believed in the self-made man but I never saw him look so sad as when we (like all of America) watched John F. Kennedy's funeral on black and white TV. I don't believe in conspiracy theories but it just seemed the world went crazy for a while from that terrible day onward. The country lost the Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King and my family lost my father, my cousin and my uncle in quick succession. We hung on in the big house for a few years after my father's death and my formidable mother did a gallant job of trying to keep the restaurant afloat but it was too much for her with three teenage kids and the wolf constantly at the door. The Christmas after my father died there was no money for presents for all of us so my mom bought the family a color TV. I've been addicted to television ever since. So then the magic numbers stopped for a while and my mother moved us into a small but nice house at 72 Bayberry Ave. in the less posh part of Garden City. My sister Michelle came home from college and became a Pam Am stewardess which would dramatically affect my own future; my brother Matthew fell in love with the girl across the street and eventually learned to play the bass; and, I just kept banging away on the guitar, forming bands with high hopes such as The Rapscallions, King James Version, Stud (yes!) and Bang Zoom which were all relegated to the dustbin of rock ‘n roll history sooner then we had imagined. In the late 60's my own On The Road period began with a brief sojourn in St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands where I played at the same club The Mamas and Papas had been the house band a few years before. I did a year and a half at Nassau Community College to beat the draft and studied literature – mostly The Great Gatsby and had two effervescent professors who changed my life. Thought about becoming an actor and did a monologue from Albee's Zoo Story which got me the only A in the class but the guitar was my jealous mistress and I never strayed far. Finally, thanks to my sister's Pan Am connection I got a cheap flight to Europe and my life changed abruptly. Playing on the streets of Rome, passing the hat, a bit part in a Felllini film and a love for Europe that never really went away, I can say now, for here I am today. But that all took a while. In brief: came back to the US via San Francisco, wrote more songs and played open mic nights on Fisherman's Wharf. Got sick, came back east, recovered and hooked back up with my brother Matthew on a mission to get a record contract. And we pounded the streets of Manhattan until that dream finally came true. But even a dream come true become reality and that's where the problems began for me. Too Much Too Soon was the name of my friends The New York Dolls album who were recording at the Record Plant in New York at the same time as me. But it was my story too. My first album Aquashow came out with a very modest promotional push from the record label but the media reaction was overwhelming. And overwhelmed I was. All of a sudden I was everybody but myself. Got married, moved around a few times in Manhattan until we found a nice pre-war two bedroom, 15 floors up on East 72nd Street. The smaller bedroom was my music room and I sat at my Wurlitzer electric piano and wrote "Diamonds By The Yard" while staring at the nightlights of Manhattan. Columbia Records brought two famous London Rock critics up to interview me, thought it would add the personal touch if they visited me at home. They saw my place with Robert Altman posters on the wall and told me punks don't live like this while they devoured my booze. I threw them out. I developed bad habits that took years to admit to and conquer a day at a time. I climbed (or was pushed) up the rock ‘n roll mountain and fell (or jumped) off the other side. Matthew and I had lived at the Drake Hotel, New York City while recording Aquashow and I stayed for 3 months at the Beverly Hills Hotel while making Lost Generation and even longer at London's posh Montcalm hotel during Just A Story From America. I still feel most at home in a room with a number on the door. But by the end of the 70's it all came crashing down, the whole damn facade and I found myself sleeping on a cot in my mother's apartment on East 80th Street. But I still had my old Stratocaster and could still coax a few songs out of it. Looking back, it wasn't so bad – my Mom has always been my biggest fan – and I kept at my music, toured Europe time to time and got real. Then through the aid of a Southern Belle with a heart of gold I got my own place on 26 Gramercy Park South and once ran into Jody Foster in the vestibule of the building during Ronald Reagan's assassination attempt by a deranged fan of hers. I was playing weekly gigs at Tramps, a nearby Blues joint and watering hole and was marking time. The past is the only thing that lasts if you move too fast. Who said that and why didn't I listen? Milwaukee figures in there as well and straightening out for good and another brief but magical marriage but all this moving around is making me dizzy. Suffice it to say that somewhere along the line a friend of mine asked me the hardest question in the world “What do you want to do?” and I was lucid enough to respond “Move to Paris!” and before I knew it there I was on rue de Faubourg Saint Antoine near Bastille, writing songs for 12 and thinking for the first time in my life I'm finally where I want to be. I felt like anything was possible. And it was. I re-found Françoise, the love of my life, and we started to build a home at 26 rue Beauregard (same number as my Gramercy Park address!) on the 5th floor with no elevator 300-year-old building with a panoramic view for this American in Paris. Our son Gaspard was born a year later. From his window you can see Sacre Coeur and from my small terrace I can see the lights of the Eiffel Tower. It's not the mansion on the hill I was dreaming about while trying to get a record contract with my brother Matthew all those years ago but destiny knows best. I'm about as happy as I get here. In fact, I should be happier for a man as blessed as me and I'm working on it every day I am now, for all intents and purposes, a Parisian. What does that mean? It means that I have the right to walk around this magnificently beautiful city – an aesthetic delight, the number one tourist destination in all the world – and I can l complain like all the other Parisians about the traffic, or the Metro strikes or the price of electricity. But I think this is some kind of superstition like if we all admitted how wonderful this city is then it would be taken away from us. And France has been very good to me. People always ask me why I left America and I have to explain that I didn't leave America, in fact I still love it and miss it everyday, but I was on a journey both personal and professional and this is where the rock ‘n roll river let me off for a while. I'm not complaining. Elliott Murphy - June 13, 2009
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Thursday, April 30, 2009
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Concerto Magazine Awards: Elliott Murphy has come in first place in the 2008 Concert Poll in Austria's prestigious Concerto
magazine in the category "Best Singer: Rock and Pop" and third place in
the category "Best Singer: Folk, World, Singer/Songwriter" - the only
artist to win in two categories! Thank you to all the Austrian Fans
(especially Conny!) who have helped Elliott achieve stardom in Austria.
Elliott will be playing two shows in Austria soon: 29 April - Vienna
Blues Spring & April 28 - Donauinselfest. View the magazine.
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Thursday, April 09, 2009
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What the F*<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />....
I’ve got a new song called “What the Fuck is going on” and please excuse my French but the title came to me in a raging vision while I was watching the economic news on CNN the other day with stories about lots of folks losing their houses while a few others take multi-million dollar bonuses. I’m sure my reaction was not unique and the outrage seems to be shared by nearly everyone … who is not getting a multi-million dollar bonus this year, that is. Anyway, we started playing the song at shows about a month ago and now there seems to be some kind of ground-swell going on and a few live versions are appearing on YouTube and other places. I’ve still got to make a definitive recording and we might do that in NYC when I arrive later this month with the Normandy All Stars. Anyway, in case anyone is interested here are the lyrics:....
.. ..
Everyday I got the blues - I don’t want to say it....
But when I watch the news - I say what the fuck …....
What the fuck is going on....
The economy is starting to crash - They say there’s a crisis ....
Of credit and cash - While the bankers and brokers....
Take the money and run....
But where do we go? - All the fools like me....
Who are working hard - To raise a family....
They tell me to invest - But it always goes down....
Till I’m left with nothing - Except that sucking sound....
.. ..
That’s the sound of the hole - Where my money goes....
And the billionaires - If you think they care....
Then you believe in Santa Claus....
The Easter Bunny and the check’s in the mail....
There’s something wrong here - And I don’t know what....
And I can’t fix it - But this feeling in my gut....
Says there’s one big Ponzi Scheme....
Being played on us all over the world....
They’re throwing us crumbs - Telling us to be proud....
To be part of this system - That will always allow....
You to succeed - If you work very hard....
But I say bullshit - They’re holding all the cards....
.. ..
And who are they? - I don’t even know....
Is that really your neighbor - On a reality show....
Well my reality - It looks nothing like that....
And I’m not choosing sides - Not the left or the right....
I’m so sick of politicians - And the way that they fight....
They must think that we’re stupid - And maybe we are....
But maybe we’re good - In the depth of our souls....
Maybe we take care - Of the sick and the old....
And we see the future - In our children’s eyes....
But they got us so scared - And we don’t even know why....
.. ..
Scared to die before I live....
Will I have somthing left to give....
To leave my son a better world....
While Mother Earth is still a girl....
Damn my greed and damn my fear....
Damn my prejudice when the other comes near....
Open my heart - open my mind....
Give me peace - when it comes my time....
.. ..
Now I ain’t religious - And I don’t go to church....
Except for my meetings - But Jesus Christ....
If he was here today - I think he’d be mad as hell....
.. ..
So that’s my two-cents on the world situation at the moment. I’m basically a non-political songwriter. The only political landscape I know well is that of my own emotions and it’s a treacherous place indeed with many back-room deals going on all the time. So take it for what its worth. ....
.. ..
.. ..
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Thursday, April 09, 2009
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We’re so East Coast! Elliott Murphy will be returning to the East Coast of the ....U.S.A..... for five shows in mid April0 2009 on his Memory and Desire tour. Elliott will be performing with his incredible French backing band The Normandy All Stars featuring his amazing guitarist Olivier Durand. Once again, opening the show will be singer-songwriter Jann Klose and expect some surprises during Elliott’s encores. Dates are confirmed in ....Fairfield CT.., ..Fall River.. ..MA...., ..Asbury Park.. ..NJ.., ..Hoboken.. ..NY.. and ....Amagansett.. ..NY.... - check Tour section for details. These will be Elliott’s first ....USA.... shows with a band in over a decade. For booking/gig information email Anne Leighton and stay tuned for more information. We’re so East Coast – So here’s a toast – Here’s to everything that I wanted the most. (Change Will Come)....
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Saturday, January 03, 2009
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Well its 2009 and ... I'm optimistic but don't ask me why. Maybe because this past year was so incredibly gratifying for me. So many sold out shows all over the world, a new album Notes From The Underground that some outrageous reviewers are calling my ... best in a decade (All Music Guide), a generous and humbling exhibition of my career in music and literature at the Marie of the 6th Arrondisement here in my hometown of Paris entitled Elliott Murphy: Last of the Rock Stars - Retrospective capped by a standing room only concert in the beautiful 19th Century Concert Hall of the Marie, playing at the Parc de Prince with the man who put a smile back on the face of rock 'n roll - Bruce Springsteen - along with my son Gaspard on "Born to Run" in front of 50,000 fans, my first French speaking film role in La Ligne Blanche (Director Olivier Torres), and finally, my first US tour in 8 years where so many fans old and new came out to cheer Olivie Durand and myself on and I never signed so many CDs and albums in all my life. And has all this attention gone to my head? Yes, definitely! Now, I just want to write more songs, record my albums, continue touring and do everything else I can to keep going for the next 35 years at least. Who are my heroes: Picasso and Muddy Waters and Grandma Moses! Many, many years ago Dave Marsh (celebrated rock critic and Bruce biographer) called me a probably crazy visionary and at the time I thought ... oh shit! But now I fall happily into that category and as I tried to explain in "Theme Song" back in the "dark eighties ages" Lunatics and Lovers and Poets agree you can get what you're after but you get nothing for free ... you see, its always tradeoff. Now right this instant I'm looking out the window of my 5h floor Paris walk-up on Rue Beauregard and the sun is shining on me like I was Louis IX (the sun king!) and puffs of Paris clouds are being painted on the baby blue sky by a steadier hand then my own. I fell asleep[ last night reading The Savage Detectives by the late, truly great Chilean writer Roberto Bolano and the word on the street is that I'm mentioned in that book somewhere along with my pal and poet Michel Bulteau. Its a wonderful novel, part Catcher In The Rye part Tropic of Cancer and part On The Road. Sadly, Bolano died at 50 before being recognized as probably the most important writer to come out of the South America since Gabriel Garcia Marquez and I am truly humbled that he would mention my name in one of his works. Its an honor I treasure. So where am I going now? HOLLYWOOD! My first California tour in 12 years and I'm stoked (a word invented by West Coast surfers back in the early 60's when Mickey Dora was hanging 10 at Malibu Beach. In the early 60's I was a dedicated Long Island surfer, on the cold East Coast waves of Gilgo Beach so my life was organized by 3 months of surfing and 9 months of watching surf movies like Endless Summer. Now, this year my friend and surfer guru Alan Gardinier has put together a "long box" of surfing turnes distributed by Universal Music called Surf Me Up and featuring a few of my songs such a "Green River" along with those of Jack Johnson, Dick Dale and Donovon Frankenreiter. You see for me, even though New York may be the center of the Universe for some, I was always looking west - Southern California was my promised land and Hollywood my Mecca. I guess it started with falling in love with Annette Funicello on the Mickey Mouse Show when I was eight years old which was from Disneyland (back then there was only one) and then I moved on to George Barris' custom car models which were all over my bedroom and then there was the surf music of The Beach Boys and The Astronauts and watching American Bandstand which by that time was broadcast from Hollywood and trying to figure out those west coast dance steps and bushy blond hair-dos. And, of course, the Hollywood films and James Dean and Steinbeck's East of Eden (film and novel) and F, Scott Fitzgerald's last days and when the "summer of love" hit I gotta confess that it was more the LA groups that captured my Hippie soul like Paul Revere and the Raiders and Buffalo Springfield and Love and The Mommas and The Papas and later The Byrds. My own Hollywood adventures came later in 1974 when RCA Records set me up in a suite in the Beverly Hills Hotel to record my album Lost Generation and it was a mythical time of passing beautiful Liz Taylor as she went to her private bungaloo (she didn't invite me to tag along), and hanging out at Dan Tana with Harry Dean Stanton and the occasional Eagles. My producer, the late Paul Rothschild was a truly mythical figure in the music business having produced not only the Doors but also Janis Joplin, Paul Butterfield and Bonnie Raitt among so many other great artists. We recorded at Elektra Studios on La Cienega and many late nights when the sessions were over Paul would drag out the old Doors master tapes and tell me how Jim Morrison would try to direct traffic on the boulevard in front of the studio. On Lost Generation Drums was Jim Gordon, co-writer of Layla now serving a life sentence in a California prison. You never know what you're in for ... Somehow, after the highs of the 70's and the lows of the 80's I made it to Paris on the cusp of the 90's and found a true life, a bit of security and lots of stability. Not to mention the food ... I survived my early heady and reckless days in the rock 'n roll jungle although it never feels like a jungle when you're there - something like the Eskimos having no word for snow in their vocabulary I supose - and through the grace of my fans (who outside of my family are my greatest treasure) I beat on into the past (sorry F. Scott) to this very day. You see, by the time a song is finished its already in the past, its history. And the songs know more about me then I know about the songs. (Note: Speaking of F. Scott Fitzgerald, if I might, for once, give myself a little credit for touting the name of this great American Writer ad nauseum to anyone who would listen, the first great modernist (in my opinion) and a man who beat on when everything was against him most of all himself and just in case anyone has failed to notice that the new Steven Spielberg/Brad Pitt film The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is based on a short story of F. Scott Fitzgerald. But my efforts were miraculously rewarded just this past December when my sister Michelle's dear friend Laura Donnelly who is the granddaughter of Gerald and Sara Murphy who were great friends of the Fitzgeralds and who Tender Is the Night is dedicated gave me one of her grandfather's monogramed handkerchiefs GM which is of course, also the initials of my son Gaspard. What a treasure!)
This year is the big one as I approach the big ... dare I say it ... 60. But I'm OK with all of that - I'm still younger (and always will be) then Mick Jagger, Bob Dylan and Jack Nicholson who (by the way) has an open invitation to my LA show. And what did you expect? For me to be screaming into the night stars over Paris Give me back my youth! My reckless days of driving a rented T-Bird up the California Coast Highway to San Francisco just because we were bored and the record company expense account seemed bottomless. Of course, it wasn't bottomless at all and there is a steep price to pay for such decadance and wasted years. But you know what? I think I paid it. And I'm home free. And if I had it to do over again would I change anything? Yes, everything and nothing. And if I've learned anything at all it is that to change me is the lifetime job I've signed on for and I guess that's what every song I write is about, trying to know me and with that song to stop in my tracks and change direction until I hit ... the next song. These are the markers of my life because as we all know musicians have no memory because ... we only learn to count 1, 2, 3, 4 .... Wishing you all good health, serenity and prosperity in the coming year 2009 and thank you for reading this, once again and everything else and for all the shows and all the applause and all the encouragement and please, above all, don't change. Even though, as this year showed everyone around the world - Change Will Come.
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Thursday, October 09, 2008
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Back In The U.S.A.! Elliott Murphy will be playing his first shows in the U.S.A. in eight years in December 2008! Opening the show will be up and coming singer songwriter Jann Klose and Elliott will be appearing as a duo with his amazing guitarist Olivier Durand. Dates are already confirmed in New York, Philadelphia, Long Island and Albany with more to come. Plans for a 2009 West Coast tour and a full band tour are in the works. For booking/gig information
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email Anne Leighton and stayed tuned for more information. The prodigal son returns...
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Tuesday, August 26, 2008
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Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
Hometown boy makes good! The Mairie of the 6th Arrondisement in Paris, along with the University Paris Diderot, will host a two week long exposition honoring the 35 year career in music and literature of Elliott Murphy from September 10 - 26, 2008 entitled Elliott Murphy - Last of the Rock Stars - Retrospective that will culminate with a live concert on 26 September. It will be located in the beautiful Mairie (town hall) of the 6th Arrondisement in Paris right near the famous cafés of St. Germain. If you're planning a trip to Paris and you're an Elliott Murphy fan it's a great time to visit the city of light which Elliott has called home for the past 18 years.
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Tuesday, May 27, 2008
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IN DREAMS ...
A little over 20 years ago my ears started ringing and they haven't stopped making that damn sound since. It's a noise only I can hear and ear doctors (of whom I've seen my share) call this incurable condition Tinnitus. It can be caused by a lot of things I suppose but in my case the culprit was definitely many, many wonderful years of playing loud rock 'n roll and the perpetuator was caught red-handed holding my Fender Stratocaster Guitar plugged into a Twin-Reverb Amp and everything turned up to 10. The fact that I always stood too close to my old drummer Tony Machine as he massacred his snare drum probably didn't help either but God the whole building shook when he hit the downbeat! And then there was the time I went skeet shooting Gatsby-like over the Long Island sound without ear protection but I did that only once so it doesn't count. I know I surely did some serious ear damage all those smoky nights playing at Max's Kansas City or Tramps or any of the other low-ceilinged New York joints I habituated in the 80's where we liked to play loud and fast and now I'm paying for it. But I don't complain because almost every other 50+ rock musician I know has the same damn thing buzzing along in his head as me and we all seem to wear it like a badge of courage, a purple haze heart medal of rigorous rock combat duty. And to be honest I must say that for the most part I've gotten use to it even if it is the last sound I hear before I go to sleep. But the funny thing is that my ears never ring in my dreams ...
And I am a big dreamer in more ways then one as anyone who knows me will attest to. During my conscious hours I may dream of universal fame, eternal glory, extravagant riches and, in my unselfish moments, world peace and prosperity but my nightly dream adventures are more modest affairs even if I do often dream about rock stars. Why I've dreamed about Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney, Lou Reed and even the French star Johnny Holliday is something a shrink could have alot of fun trying to figure out! In my dreams there have been guest appearances by the Beatles, Kinks and Aerosmith and cameo drop-ins by Tina Turner, Debbie Harry and Maryann Faithful as well as Patty Smith. And, of course, I've dreamed of Elvis Presley and Jimi Hendrix. Once I dreamed Elvis was black and was driving my car and we were all in Heaven just driving around and Jimi Hendrix was in the back seat with me and then Elvis got tired and took a nap - in my dream! Last night I dreamed again about Bob Dylan and he was very nice to me and we were talking about Paul Nelson, the rock-critic who discovered me and passed away a few years ago. In my dream Bob was very quiet when I mentioned Paul's name and asked me what I wanted to know about Paul. Don't know what that means. And recently I dreamed I was on stage with the Rolling Stones and couldn't remember the chords to the songs or even worse couldn't find my guitar. There's a lot of that in my dreams - searching for the things I need albeit guitars or clothes or solid ground to stand on. When my son Gaspard was born in September 1990 I went on a two-week tour of Japan a month later and I dreamed about him every night and in my dreams I was always looking for him in a series of colorful low houses by the sea. I don't know if he was dreaming of me because he was only a month old. Do babies have dreams or is everything just a dream to them anyway? I often dream of my father who passed away over 40 years and for a long time in my dreams he was quiet and strange and when I asked him where he went and disappeared to for all these years he would tell me he had to go away somewhere for some sad reason. I cried in my dreams and felt lost in the morning. Am I haunted by my dreams or do I haunt them myself? Like a ghost still living?
And now I am living my dreams so to speak. And that's the problem: my dreams have become my reality and thus take on all the problems that comes with the territory: boredom, fear, exhilaration and exhaustion. To live in Paris was always a dream and to be a singer was something I only dreamed to do for a long, long time. There was a time I thought I might stand in the back of the stage and play rhythm guitar and it was only when I found my own words did I find the courage to want to shout them out as loud as I could. "You know you make me want to shout!" said the Isley Brothers when me and my friend Russel Fager would listen to that 45 rpm record over and over when I was 10 years old in Garden City. There was something so illicit about "Shout", because we could hardly understand the words they were singing. In fact, that was the case with most rock 'n roll of my youth - it was so hard to understand the words. And now, with perhaps the exception of "Louie Louie" we all can almost universally understand the language of rock 'n roll so much better. In fact it's become its own language and our ears seem to have evolved because of the music and its intrinsic power of growth and redemption. Maybe that's why my ears are ringing because they're in a constant state of evolution and this is a prime side effect. I believe this with all my heart and I will testify that this post-nuclear music and culture and fashion and addiction of rock 'n roll has changed us in profound and mysterious ways we can't even begin to imagine and that the impact of rock 'n roll on western culture and beyond has yet to be appreciated. Amen.
Now, on the other hand, my guitarist Olivier Durand can sleep sitting up in his airplane seat or in a car or almost anyplace. I've seen him do it! And I don't know if he dreams at all because he's never mentioned it to me. But we've played together for over 12 years and we do dream together all the time of other things: We dream of playing bigger concert halls and traveling with a full-time crew in a splendid tour bus outfitted with proper beds and huge TV screens and gourmet foods with pretty young hostesses serving us. We dream of these things because we think we could do so much more on stage if we had all those comforts, all that support but maybe the truth is that its the very lack of such extravagances that is the secret to our long-running success (if you can call it that!) because many nights our job and our greatest challenge is to succeed and persevere in spite of all the difficulties we face on the road, in spite of the hours of mind-numbing travel and the problematic sound-checks and the drunk in the front row who keeps yelling things to us in a language we can never understand. And still we always go to the front of the stage because we are drawn there, to the source of all power and wisdom - the public consciousness, that living breathing miracle that stands facing us as we stand a few feet above them. We're totally outnumbered and armed with only our fragile guitars to defend us against their love. You see, we are drawn to our public as a divining rod is to water, as a compass is to true north because they are our nightly fountain of youth and our source of spiritual strength and sometimes nearly endless endurance. When we are on stage we love them as one loves a huge family, they are our past, present and future ancestors. The attachment is so visceral and real because of the way they react and hold on to our thoughts, our emotions, our melodies and our aspirations in a collective grip that no individual ever could no master no matter how well-intentioned. And they heighten our reality in a way drugs never could. We don't need to dream when we are on stage because that's what it is - a dream of our own dreams. And it seems like it will never end … until the moment you step off that stage and the dream ends when its really all over, the lights come up, and the last guitar chord has vanished like smoke into the cosmos and yet still you need them, that beautiful public. You need them so badly that you hurry back to the edge of the stage where that once ocean of emotion has receded to a pool of a mere handful or so of the most faithful fans and you sign CDs as fast as you can and try to make a lasting connection with each and every one and remember their names and their children's names and their wives and husband's names and then thank, thank, thank them with all the sincerity in your aching vocal chords. I have probably said "Thank you" more then any other two words in the English language.
Thank you.
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