Available at Amazon, iTunes, Burning Shed and many others.


By day, a mild Norfolk museum curator and by night a be-caped purveyor of sophisticated excess, Alistair Murphy's second solo album finds the eccentric keeper of antiquities in fully-fledged Orchestral Rock mode.


Consisting of one twenty minute side-long spanning epic and four shorter pieces, the album revels in its non-digital-era arrangements and 1970s influenced sense of scale.


Orchestrated by Phil Toms and featuring the Ely Sinfonia conducted by Steve Bingham, Inside The Whale also includes the ever-versatile Pat Mastelotto on drums.


Developing further the musical and lyrical themes that marked his quirky debut Sometime Soon, Inside The Whale evokes singer-songwriter, Progressive and 20th Century Classical styles.


A modern man adrift in the modern world using modern technology to make a traditional statement of grand intent, The Curator is a fascinating anachronism; not quite of this time or any other.


“Having tasted the wonderful multiple violin overdubs of Steve Bingham on Sometime Soon I wanted more of these textures. Bored of shiny digital string samples almost as soon as I had first heard them in nineteen-eighty-sometime, I recently set out with Steve and string arranger Phil Toms on the road to orchestral heaven. With Phil slipping the tadpoles on the telegraph lines and he and Steve caught in huddles at the side of the road smirking over some obscure musical reference we went down the neglected pathway of rock orchestration. Standing on the shoulders of giants, Tony Visconti, Dee Palmer, Nicky Harrison, Mick Ronson and others, we strode on...(it was fun too).” Alistair Murphy.



Reviews for Sometime Soon (the Curator’s previous album)


At 50, Alistair Murphy’s long-incubating musical dreams come to life in a grand folk/prog concept - Gavin Martin, Daily Mirror


This stunning testament to a bold creative imagination - Catherine Yates, Classic Rock Prog


A suite of songs, the ripples of each bouncing in a welter of careful, but innovative arrangements - Jeannette Leach, Shindig


A unique vision that you take on its terms alone - The Terrascope


Indulgent toss - Ed Jupp, Is This Music? Feb 2011


Support Slots in recent years with Bob Mould (Husker Du), Dan Reed, Mike Peters (The Alarm) and Durutti Column (playing with Tim Bowness). Gigs at the 100 Club as the Curator and with Judy Dyble and Tim Bowness.


Other Projects

Change and Flow - with Judy Dyble -2013 release

Postcards from Space - with Tim Bowness (of No-Man) - 2013 release

Talking with Strangers – Judy Dyble

Howling for the Highway Home – Terry Stamp (Third World War)

Bootlace Johnnie and the Ninety Nines – Terry Stamp (Third World War)







INSIDE THE WHALE


Fair wind fading away, from me


Dark wave, towering grey, cold wind


There must be someone, somewhere

To ring the bells and blow the horn

As you’re waiting on the dawn

Wishing that you’d not been born

And that someone, somewhere

Knows that when you try, when you can try you can only fail

Riding the wave, or riding the gale

Or sliding down inside the whale


Young men fresh from the farm

The wet of the sea at their ear

Never thought that they could come to harm

But never dreamt, for a moment of ending up here


It’s as dark as the night in this place

The daylight never penetrates far

And the faces that hang in the void should be hung

But they still trade tales at the bar

We all row on, hour by hour

And the wine that we’re all rely  on

Will spill, stain and turn sour


One too many drinks on the house

A falsehood too many to bear

X marks the spot where you signed on the line

With a scuffle, a shout and a cry of despair

We all row on, day by day

With our heads held high

Never look to the sun or our watches to show us the way


We all row on, year by year

And the strength that we all call upon

Will falter, fade and disappear.


One cold morning

One knot on the rope

One deep mooring

One last fleeting hope


Running onward

Fighting against the tide

One last foot forward

Feeling cold inside


Drifting backwards

And moving downwind

And listing sideways

And sinking always down


Every night has got its morning

Every tide has got to turn

Dangers always bring their warning

The wettest wood can always burn 

It’s so long, it’s so far to stray

We’re not always walking on our own

Not always walking away


Fair wind blowing my way and home


There must someone, somewhere, to milk the cows and bake the bread,

To tell the children, and wake the dead,

And drag the Bürgermeister from his bed.

And that someone, somewhere, knows though he fails, though he fails

He can only try, one day he’ll fall but the next he will fly

And watch the world below go by


And now the world is calling and all the walls are coming down

And the lights are shining and the crowd  has gathered round


There must be someone, somewhere,

Who’ll grab their coat and grab their hat

Ring the changes, fetch in the cat

Sweep the streets and beat the mat

And that someone, somewhere

Knows though they falter,

Knows though they falter and, though they may fail

Last week they stumbled and this week they trail

One day they’ll rise up from out of the whale


And I can see the harbour as I turn towards the land

I coil the ropes and stow the sails and I hear a marching band

And in the dark I see some faces as I’m stretching out my hand.



SNAKES AND LADDERS


It’s time for change and there’s nothing to say

Your bag’s in the hall, our lives are in freefall

It’s looking like rain and it is over again

You said you could change but it’s all stayed the same


I’m looking ahead at the ladder of light

The snakes all slide back to you


Time after time I waited for someone to call

I waited for you what else could I do?

Over and over again is that the key in the door?

I waited alone, I waited some more


I’m looking ahead at the ladder of light

The snakes all slide back to you


Time after time after time my mind is running away

Lying awake I wait for the new day

Over and over and over again in the blink of an eye

Time frozen still, life rushing by


I’m looking ahead at the ladder of light

The snakes all slide back to you  



THE WARMTH ON MY PILLOW


When all’s said and done and dusted,

entrusted and ready for home

I find myself here, where ever is here,

I could not have made it alone

You’re a light through the trees, you’re the snow on the fell

A voice in the street, with a story to tell.

Be the warmth on my pillow in the cool of the night


We’re all on the move with nowhere to go

and no one to show us the way

We eat where we can, we sleep where we fall,

pause where there’s somewhere to stay

I‘ve walked to your town. I’ve stopped in your street,

Thrown stones at you light, used your step for a seat

Be the warmth on my pillow in the cool of the night


There’s a man at the corner, it’s late and he’s heading for home,

Now some should warn you, that it’s me at the side of road

I’m holding, I’m holding my breath, you’re holding my world in the palm of your hand

If you look in my eyes, I can’t fail the test

But should you say no then I’ll understand


The lights going off, at the corner

the sound of the music is drifting away

I’ll chance what I have, if I haven’t a chance

then hat’s a price I’ll have to pay

You’re a light through the trees, you’re the snow on the fell

A voice in the street with a story to tell.

Be the warmth on my pillow in the cool of the night



COURTIERS


Well, you’ve taken every fence,

Although the highest ones have left you sprawling

No, there can be no defence, for the accidents that are your calling

The chosen ones have found their form, the guides they had to meet

They’ve fallen on their feet, while you’re just falling


Oh if you could find their way, trace their path, have their good fortune.

Oh yes, if you knew who they knew, had what they had

Oh, such sweet torture

Meanwhile sitting in the stands, trying to catch a sight

Reaching out our hands, for we’re all Courtiers

Jesters, shysters, their foot-soldiers, Christmas puppies, all time losers

Innocents and victims too, at the tail end of the queue


Stop, your life is passing by, there’s no reason why, you can’t enjoy it

But time and time again you find, the illusion’s fine, you can’t destroy it

We’re waiting by the road, we’re waiting in the rain

They’re coming round again, for we’re their Courtiers

Nuisance Callers, whores and stalkers

Stallers, crawlers, touts and hawkers

Fighters, fences, late-night brawlers

Beggars, bawlers, back-street prowlers

Saints and sinners, thieves and judges

Innocents and victims too, and we’re still waiting in the queue.


Well, you’ve taken every fence,

Although the highest ones have left you sprawling

No, there can be no defence, for the accidents that are your calling

The chosen ones have found their form, the guides they had to meet

They’ve fallen on their feet, while you’re just falling

(Where are we falling to?)



FIRST ONE HOME


There's someone waiting in my life again
In moments that I find, I will think of them
Day and night and time and tide again
All the roads ahead are leading back to them
Once I waited for my time pass,
Not knowing where I wanted it to go
There's someone waiting in my life again
And I'll soon be there with you
 
And now there's someone looking out for me
Shouting in the dark when I am drawing near
Moon and stars and a silent ship to steer
And glowing phosphoresence slips astern of me
Once I waited for my days to pass
With the water breaking hard upon my prow
But now there's someone looking out for me
And I am looking out for you
 
And when I'm walking in the rain
Or fighting hard against the wind
There's someone calling out my name
 
Someone's placing bets on me
In a dirty bookies shop
Just before the ten to three
Newly printed notes and shiny currency
Amongst silent gambling men
Awaiting news of Wetherby
Once I waited at the starting gate
with nothing riding on the race at all
Someone's waiting at the post for me
And I bet I'll be the first one home


Alistair Murphy: Keyboards, Guitars and Vocals


Pat Mastelotto : Drums and Percussion


Steve Bingham: Violins, Violas & Conductor of Ely Sinfonia


Mark Fletcher : Bass


Diana Hare : Vocals


Phil Toms : Orchestral Arrangements


Jeremy Salmon : Guitar

Brenda Stewart : Viola

Lucy Mitchell: Cello

Harry Fletcher : Guitar

Janet Brook : Oboe

Andy Heard : French Horn

The Ely Sinfonia

The Curator - Inside The Whale (2013)


Side One

Inside The Whale


Side Two

Snakes and Ladders

The Warmth On My Pillow

Courtiers

First One Home