Murphy was born in Camden, New Jersey, and raised in Cinnaminson on the Pennsylvania border. His mother was an opera singer and his father played the cornet. They were a musical family and everybody sang. Murphy learned drums at the age of ten and started his first band. They’d play Elk Lodges and big Italian weddings. Murphy got into folk music in high school and learned guitar and banjo. He’d listen to Mississippi John Hurt, Doc Watson, Pete Seeger, Phil Ochs, David Bromberg, and Dave Van Ronk. He’d play coffeehouses and wherever else he could. He moved to Alberta, Canada, and later to Santa Fe, where he continued playing shows and began writing short stories and novels. One of the stories turned into a song. Murphy played percussion for beat poet Allen Ginsberg.

Murphy traveled throughout Southeast Asia, where he met his wife and forever bandmate, Jacque Grad. He lived in Austin for a short while before moving to Seattle to be with Grad. They lived there for twenty years. He wrote a couple of musicals, one from which he played Inspector Kazbo, and Kaz became his nickname. Kaz released a single and a full-length debut album, Snap Out, with “Mad, Mad Nomad” on Green Monkey Records. Murphy’s debut solo album, One Happy Camper, was a quirky Americana mix of folky art-rock and country. Murphy flirted with the film industry.

On this new album, his fifth, Murphy plays acoustic and tremolo guitar, harmonica, and tambourine and sings the lead vocals. He is joined by Grad on mandolin, accordion, violin, organ, and singing backup; Ben Shaw on lap steel and background vocals; Susan Kearns, upright bass and backing vocal on one track; and Mir Taylor, Irish flute on one track. All songs were written by Murphy and co-produced by Murphy and Kearns. The album was recorded at Goat Mountain Recording in Landers, California, except for “Vote for Broke,” recorded at Barn Wall Media.

The album kicks off with the title track, “Making Noise,” a classic folk protest song. When our current president got “elected” the second time, word was out that to stay silent was to surrender, and to get off the couch and into the streets to fight for what is right. Murphy sings in a conversational way as he strums and picks his acoustic guitar, accompanied by Grad’s mandolin and accordion. Shaw’s lap steel gives the song a cosmic-country vibe, as Kaz sings, “I’m sorry to disturb you, my voice can be quite loud, but the last thing I want is silence now, I wanna growl like a bear, let my beat-up, beatbox blare, last thing I want is silence now. Making noise, making noise, I’m headed out to make some noise…there’s all these liars telling stories, stories only fools believe, all these liars tellin’ stories, and all they wanna do is make fun of me.”

“Old Protest Records” is an old folk song that teeters on the edge of Appalachian bluegrass, with Grad’s back-porch fiddle playin’, as Kaz chimes, “When I listen to my old protest records, it gives me some comfort in my mind. ‘Masters of War’…’People Get Ready’, ‘A Change is Gonna Come’, the words and music soothe my soul. ‘We Shall Overcome’…’Ain’t Gonna Study War No More’, ‘Because Tonight The Lights Went Out in Georgia’, ‘We’re on the Eve of Destruction’…’I Ain’t Marchin’ Anymore’.”

“Bad Chief” comes across like a Johnny Cash tale of an ancient Native American warning. The song is a thinly veiled metaphor for our current president. It’s about a person in charge who isn’t afraid to hurt and separate their own people. Murphy adds, “It’s amazing how many peopke kiss up to him…it is devastating,” as Kaz chants, “He came sown from the dark mountain, on a snake oil vine, and he speaks with a forked tongue, and he poisons the tribe, he won’t honor the Great Spirit, he lets our people die, his eagle flies, but not for freedom, now I’m telling you why. He’s a Bad Chief…born under a crooked sign…Bad Chief, done crossed the devil’s line.”

“The Hope of a Man in a Bar” starts with the acoustic guitar and a psychedelically whimsical Irish whistle, like a fantasy-land pub where the protagonist is safe from the unrest on the other side of the doors. Murphy moans, “Please don’t try to pull me off this barstool. I don’t want to know what’s goin on out there, half the country’s gone hog wild.” This guy doesn’t want to be a pacifist with a gun or a Bad Chief. He thinks he’s gonna be killed and wants to make things right between him and God. The song is punctuated most heavily when the music drops out and gang vocals declare, “We the people, have our rights.”

The upbeat and cheerful “Pacifist Buys Gun” does the classic songwriter trick of giving you a song with happy music and dark lyrics. A Johnny Cash baritone is surrounded by some fingerpicking and irreverence, as Murphy groans, “They shattered the spell, and we watched it on our TV’s as the country fell, now you wander under the sun, ‘Pacifist Buys Gun’…when your famiies so afraid, you’ll do anything it takes.”

On “Bloody Hell,” Kaz wails, “I guess it had been a long time comin’, but when it came it took most by surprise, and now we’re all fightin’, trying to take back our lives. To remain calm just kept gettin’ harder and some who spoke were taken away, it maked me wonder. it may be wonder who might go today…what happened to the people that we used to be? Whatever happened to you and me?”

“Rifle for a Hoe” features Kaz as he howls, “I met a man who’s been to places not to many men have been, he spent 10 years in a Siberian prison, then he spent another 10 in his village the Mother Land, trying to make some sense of his culture. And the strength of him, can make you feel just a little stronger, like a noonday sun, in the month of June. And he rides his horse, just like a king or like a soldier, man, you gotta feed the people, cause the people always know, it’s best to trade your rifle for a hoe…they always know.”

“Iowa Ohio Arizona” is a love song to the U.S. swing states, a roving vintage ’40s folk vibe with harmonica, as Kaz belts, “Iowa Ohio Arizona, in my heart, I think you’re feelin blue, Iowa Ohio Arizona, Oh, my darlin, I love you. First Iowa with your blue skies in the morn. Oh, how I love the world’s finest corn. Ohio, I once took a long red eye across this land just to hang out with my favorite ol’ buck eyes…no, I did not forget you, Arizona, because I love your golden desert sun, so that’s Iowa Ohio Arizona, and now it’s time to give y’all some love, Iowa Ohio Arizona, in my heart, I think you’re feelin’ blue. Iowa Ohio Arizona, Oh my darlin, I love you.”

On “Vote for Broke,” Kaz cries, “No time for loungin’, or people watchin’, I gotta get off this couch, start gamblin’, begin winnin’, this time I’ll cash out, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, but that ain’t the fix we’re in, I got troubles, I got worries, and I’m rollin’ the dice again. Gonna vote, vote for broke, like the gamblin’ man that I am, gonna vote, vote for broke, as though our lives’ depend. Gonna change it, rearrange it, that’s how we do it, it’s our right…win our country back her light.” Hey!

On the closer, “Human Chain,” Kaz croons, “Hey! human chain…surround my city. Hey! human chain…keep the riff-raff out. Hey! human chain…we don’t want your pity. Hey! human chain…hey human chain. Ain’t no trouble gonna pass this chain…Hey! Ain’t nobody gonna break this line…Hey! ain’t no tyrant gonna get their way…Hey! human chain…Hey! human chain.”

SoCal folk singer-songwriter Kaz Murphy’s fifth studio album, Making Noise: Songs of Rebellion & Redemption, takes on the alarming and dangerous hard times facing the USA today. Its political deftness falls somewhere between the cynical sting of Phil Ochs, the everyman forthrightness of Woody Guthrie, and the modern populism of Jesse Welles. This reactive and metaphysical Americana record is topical but never literal. Fifty percent of the album’s proceeds will go to Field Team 6, whose mission is to register more Democrats to vote. Get on board and fight for what is right.