Every Bird that Flies

‘The Fall’ begins in paradise: lying on the ground on a summer's day, and a child running about. Suddenly there's blood on a cheek, on a hand and a tiny shoe. It's only a little cut, but the mother knows this is still the end of a certain innocence: ‘it's hard to see you fall,’ sings Murphy. Further verses refer to a stone-throwing youth cut down by soldiers and mothers gathering at a school where children have been massacred. Murphy even weaves in a song learned in Ramallah and a line from a Welsh lullaby she sang to her sons when they were small.

Every Bird that Flies is Murphy's fourth solo album. She has lived a bit, and reflects on the wide world – there's a song about Tonderai Ndira, the murdered Zimbabwean activist, and ‘Soil Soul Society’ distils the ideas of ecologist (and marathon peace walker) Satish Kumar. She focuses too on the more narrow world, of seaside towns, of children. ‘When Georgia Paints’ and ‘To a Little Girl’ speak of creativity and the love on which, ultimately, our survival depends.

As well as her own, there are three well-chosen traditional songs. The music is spare – piano, subtle trombone (Ceri Owen Jones) and elegant double bass (Aidan Thorne) – but this, Murphy's engaging voice and keenly felt, intelligent writing make listening to Every Bird that Flies richly rewarding. Across the album, Murphy's piano, at first simple, grows urgent and complex; the tenderness of her voice grows raw with yearning. This is song writing and performance of the highest accomplishment.