“Myrrhman”, the opening song, is a prime example; a few flecks of viola and guitar held in place by the ambience of the room, delicate as a dragonfly wing. There are strokes of piano and double bass and Lee Harris — always an impressively sensitive and imaginative drummer — provides specks of brushed snare and cymbal. Above, no, amongst it lies Mark Hollis’ unique and fragile voice. The sense is obscured, but his yearning tone is supremely articulate, seemingly aching for peace, redemption, and an end to unknowingness.”- Melody Maker reviews Laughing Stock, 1991
“But the reason for putting [Myrrhman] up the front is, if you are looking in classical terms at things, you know, when the thing starts, it doesn’t necessarily have to attack you. What it does is, for the first few minutes, it’s there just to create a mood from which it then develops […] I think that track is the most eclectic track for me.” – Mark Hollis talking about Laughing Stock for 19 minutes, 1991
Myrrhman certainly does create a mood; and more than that, it creates other realities – maybe you are in a small boat floating on the dark ocean of a distant planet with unfamiliar constellations; or maybe you are the invisible observer in an attic room furnished with just a kitchen chair and a noose.
Where have you gone? Come back and listen to this.
Myrrhman insists on the listener’s undivided attention. Like, really – pay attention. This song is quiet, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s ‘background’. It is intense. I adore this piece of music, but it is still NFC: Not For Company. That is, I love it but I wouldn’t put it on my Friday Work Drinks playlist, not even in the ‘chill’ section.
The first track on the last Talk Talk album, it winks knowingly to a past life; as the title of the first Talk Talk single and as the first line of The ReAction’s I Keep On Telling You, a twin with the last line of Myrrhman. First and last. Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end, the beginning of the end.