If much of Chris Murphy’s music is that of the wandering troubadour, often about where he is at and where he is going, “Worn Thin,” sonically speaking at least, is the sound of who he is and where he is from. Lyrically, he weaves a tale that we can all relate to, speaking of exasperation and patience being stretched to breaking point through the actions of others, but it is the musical vehicle that drives the message which speaks volumes.
The sawing background violin rhythms set up the song’s pace and purpose, but it is the lead lines that he runs over the top that speak to his Celtic lineage which really grab the listener: those keening crys that flit through, the dynamic sweeps and spiralling sounds, the soaring sonics and floating beauty all conjure images of wild Irish landscapes, of a brooding, tumbling sky and chill wind blowing across ancient moors.
And that, of course, is what Chris excels at; his music takes you places. Whether his songs find you waiting at a bus stop somewhere in America, sailing solo around the world, walking beside him down that endless road that the modern minstrel calls home, or, as in this case, drifting through a Celtic wilderness, they are brilliantly transportive.
They say travel broadens the mind, but so does the best music, and Chris is the best sonic travelling companion you could hope for.
