Take the opening song, “Corpse Flower.” It has so much texture and tension. Just when you feel like you have its direction pinned down, it switches and swaps. Beginning on saxophone with elements of jazz, a subtle genre undercurrent that runs throughout the album, it braids into this hazy, atmospheric blend before settling into a beautiful moment on the keys. Eventually, nearly every element except Murphy’s voice drops out before the song erupts into an intentional crescendo, engulfing and swarming around him until he cries out, “For you!” Then, suddenly, it ends. The song builds much like a corpse flower itself, growing for years toward a brief, strange bloom.

Immediately following this jazzy, hazy opener is “Capstone,” a complete turn toward more traditional indie pop. Lucy Dacus joins Murphy on a song written around his love for his wife, the two sing about how loving someone has become the capstone of his life. It’s sweet without becoming overly sentimental.The more traditional indie-pop style becomes the theme for much of the album that follows.

The title track is probably the best example of a dance-pop vibe. On first listen, “Murphy Horse” reminded me a little of a ROLE MODEL song, except “Murphy Horse” is actually pleasant to listen to. More importantly, his song actually has substance, where ROLE MODEL creates fast-food junk, Murphy nourishes you. First, his lyrics actually make sense, and by further contrasting existential dread with a playful indie-pop melody, casually singing, “Murphy, you could be a horse in the next life, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Love In Every Direction” follows and utilizes that same template to sing about deep emotional wounds, all while using an almost ’80s new-wave sheen to attempt to persuade you otherwise. Throughout the song, Murphy jumps between angelic falsettos and desperate, dragged-out screams, highlighting the internal turmoil. The song “Friendly’s”is no different. Containing an infectious jazzy saxophone and funky guitars, with deep sweeping emotional realizations.

“Robin Egg” gets a little stranger. Murphy’s vocals sometimes sound like they’re being yelled from a distance before suddenly giving way to these sweet, soft melodies that feel whimsical and almost heavenly. By the end, there’s someone howling like a dog or wolf. It’s a bit experimental but all of the pieces come together forming remarkably rich and warm song.

Then “Nearer to You” strips almost everything away. Over acoustic guitar Murphy sings, “You kiss my cheek just one last time / I fear the end has come.” It’s probably the most straightforwardly emo moment on the record. Bare and intimate and stuck on the dread of something ending. After an album that spends so much time decorating sadness with bright melodies and strange instrumentation, hearing Murphy confront it so directly emotionally levels
you.

Which makes “Old Things Never Die” such a fun way to send the album out. It’s a loud, intense song, with Murphy suddenly bursting in. It’s the biggest flash of Foxing anywhere on the record and really highlights how much range he has as an artist.

Murphy Horse is really bookended by these stranger, more dramatic moments, while much of its core plays with a more “traditional” indie-pop sound. Even then, these are hardly songs built for anonymous radio play. Saxophones appear out of nowhere, jazz and funk creep into arrangements, vocals jump from falsettos to screams, and songs regularly wander somewhere unexpected before finding their way back. Murphy Horse gives Conor Murphy enough structure to write genuinely catchy songs without sanding away the experimentation that makes him so great to listen to.

Order Murphy Horse by Smidley HERE