

She was the first of eight children born to Frederick Francis Murphy and Mary Griffiths Murphy. Murphy, who misrepresented her age in her autobiography and elsewhere, was born Ellen Murphy in 1905 in Placentia, Newfoundland. Murphy recounted what she called her "female Horatio Alger" story in her 1961 autobiography, Glow of Candlelight, which set a New York City record for sales of autographed books at Macy's in Herald Square. Her signature item was the popover, a hot bread dispensed from baskets by costumed servers known as popover girls. Soon she was one of the most successful restaurant owners in the New York area, serving a million meals a year in 1956. Shortly after the Wall Street Crash of 1929, she invested her last $60 in a small Brooklyn restaurant. Patricia Murphy (1905–1979) was a restaurateur who operated nine Patricia Murphy Candlelight restaurants in New York and Florida over the course of half a century. ‘It’s part of our DNA’: How California shaped the music of L.A.Founder, Patricia Murphy's Candlelight Restaurants And with its rumbling drums and spacey atmospherics, “How Do You Sleep?” comes closer to “The Dark Side of the Moon” than most former punks would dare.īut even when he’s blissing out (or trying desperately to), Murphy’s trademark nerves define the gorgeously queasy vibe of “American Dream.” Success, thank goodness, simply doesn’t look good on Taylor Swift trying to turn off her listeners? This record lacks the kind of go-go rave-up that each previous LCD Soundsystem album had there’s no “ Drunk Girls” or “Daft Punk Is Playing at My House” here. As detail-obsessed a producer as any working today - consult “American Dream’s” liner notes for the make and model of every keyboard he used - Murphy skillfully layers his sounds for tracks that somehow feel dense and airy at the same time. But music is the natural repository for Murphy’s thoughts, so songs are where he put them.Īnd, man, can this guy build a song. Maybe Murphy could’ve put all this stuff in a book maybe he could’ve annotated the menu at the wine bar he opened with his wife during LCD Soundsystem’s hiatus. “I had fear in the room, so I stopped turning up,” he sings over a gentle but ominous groove, “My hands kept pushing down in my pockets / I’m bad with people things, but I should have tried more.”Įlsewhere he describes being abandoned by a lifelong friend (“Standing on the shore getting old / You left me here with the vape clowns”) and invokes the slow degradation of his body: flaking skin, a calming heartbeat, wrinkles revealed by the morning sun. The album’s moving closer, “Black Screen,” appears to be about the time he spent working with his hero David Bowie on Bowie’s album “Blackstar,” which was released just days before the rock legend died last year.


In the funky, jagged “Change Yr Mind” he’s back in his “Losing My Edge” mindset, admitting, “I’m not dangerous now, the way I used to be once.”īut Murphy is also facing bigger, more existential worries than he likely could’ve imagined a decade and a half ago.

“‘What’s it you do again?’” somebody probably half his age asks him in “Tonite,” and the answer comes caked in his sneering self-deprecation: “‘Oh, I’m a reminder: a hobbled veteran of the disk-shop inquisition / Sent to parry the cocksure mem-stick filth with mine own late-era middle-aged ramblings.” (These are no doubt the lyrics that inspired Father John Misty to offer up an earnest Facebook post of his own recently in which he described “Tonite” as “miraculous.”)
