words and photos by Stephanie Augello

“On the page it looked like nothing. The beginning – simple, almost comic. Just a pulse – bassoons and basset horns – like a rusty squeezebox. Then suddenly – high above it – an oboe, a single note, hanging there unwavering, ’til a clarinet took over and sweetened it into a phrase of such delight. This was no composition by a performing monkey; this was a music I’d never heard, filled with such longing – such unfulfillable longing. It had me trembling. It seemed to me that I was hearing the very voice of God.”

When the Beating of Your Heart Echoes the Beating of the Drums…

It is obvious that Murphy has a natural passion and propensity for music. I have seen him perform on a 6-string guitar, dulcimer and harmonica. I have heard him mention practicing on piano and 12-string guitar. His lyricism echoes the philosophical content of giants such as Goethe and Nietzsche. He is too young to get into bars and clubs. The first time I saw him play was at a house shown arranged by General Oglethorpe & the Panhandlers. I was, well, completely floored. I had to leave the room. I stepped out onto the expansive porch of 121 W. Jones St., and said, “I can’t handle him.” Devin Smith, General O’s singer/guitarist replied in shock, “What? You don’t like him?” My answer was simply, “No. It’s not that. That kid is freakin’ Mozart.” It was a rather humbling experience.

Last month, a few of us threw a surprise house show party for a friend’s birthday. Venice is Sinking was gracious enough to trek all the way from Athens to Savannah for the event, and our good fortune also gave us the awesome performances of Anna Chandler and Duncan Iaria (General Oglethorpe & the Panhandlers), and Murphy as well. Jamison played an ample set of originals, all of which he affectionately introduced to our intimate audience. He attributed the influence of one of his tunes to jazz pianist Thelonious Monk, whose offbeat style of playing my ear could barely comprehend until I’d hit the ripe old age of 22.

It turns out that Mr. Murphy is quite the jazz fan, and feels that Monk’s music is the color green. I told him I thought that Charles Mingus’ is burgundy. We shared a few notions pertaining to the color orange, or jazz trumpetist Dizzy Gillespie. That brief exchange with Jamison was quite possibly the best conversation I’d ever had about jazz.

My psychic powers tell me that, when high school is all said and done for Jamison Murphy, he will not end up in the “Class Clown Hall of Fame.” I have no doubt that he will be admitted to a top-notch university. His brilliance has already offered him many options for exposure and enrichment; however, it is Jamison’s diligence that will allow his music to contribute to the betterment of society as a whole.

In addition to being precocious, modest, enthusiastic and eager to learn, Jamison Murphy is also . . . a really nice kid.

Since he’s still in high school, he doesn’t have a set performance schedule. If you want to see him you’ll just have to get lucky and catch him at a house show or an impromptu performance at The Sentient Bean.