Jimmy Murphy: Electricity (Sugar Hill)
Before you start to scratch your memory for this Alabama-born singer/guitarist, let me save you the trouble; it is unlikely you'll find him there. There are three things to note about Jimmy Murphy: 1) He is dead (d: 1981); 2) During his 56 years he recorded little and received even less recognition; 3) This wonderfully warm and unpretentious collection, centred on a 1978 album, is an unexpected delight. Ostensibly a country performer, Murphy was a more adventurous player, dipping into bluegrass, blues and gospel with simple confidence and an easy grace. His open-e tuned acoustic guitar and burnished vocals could handle any traditional style, but front-porch music was unfashionable and he turned to building work. His sensitive tribute, I Get a Longing to Hear Hank Sing the Blues, is evidence of what was missed.
Joe Breen
Shantalla: Untitled (Wild Boar Music)
Now getting places on the European live circuit, this thundery trad ensemble - apart from singer Helen Flaherty from East Kilbride - are all Irish: heady Slogadh-winning Monaghan accordionist, Gerry Murray; bright fiddler Kieran Fahy; Michael Horgan's Spillane-touched pipes, whistles and flutes; and the percussive strumming of Dublin guitarist Joe Hennon. Alternating with the sets, Flaherty's traditional songs such as the bawdy ditty, Cam Ye O'er Frae France?, are fine Scotsy distillations in a bonnily impenetrable dialect that would put Ulster Scots to shame. It's one of the finer, simpler tracks; the ragged-unison melodic conflict between instruments and voice often sacrifices individual flair in the general din. Still, there's no denying the verve.
Mic Moroney
Laoise Kelly: Just Harp (Independent Release)
There's something extraordinarily winsome about this album from one-third of the Bumblebees. Kelly virtually reinvents the instrument with her rhythmic and melodic intricacy, her syncopations and undulating chords and harmonies - whether on measured airs like Bill Whelan's The Coast of Galicia, O'Carolan's Farewell, or her own oddly chiming hornpipe, Putting It Off; or the infectious lift she brings to the rousing dance melodies, driving the harp far into the dizzy vernacular. No matter how gossamer the sound, she'll have you swaying in your bath-chair with her profound musicality. The most personable piece of solo music I've heard in quite a while.
Mic Moroney