Album Review: Everything Is Alright

Jeff Murphy, originally from Wales, made his home in Tauranga, Aotearoa, where he pursued both music and screenwriting. In 2022, he released his solo album Drive Away. That same year, he passed away after a battle with cancer.

The sessions that produced Drive Away yielded far more material than was ultimately released. Now, producer Tim Julian has returned to those recordings, completing and shaping the remaining songs into a new collection: Everything Is Alright.

This album feels inseparable from its context. More than most records, its meaning is shaped by what we know: that these songs were left unfinished, that Murphy is no longer here to guide their final form. You can almost picture Julian in the studio, listening closely, pulling threads together, making careful decisions about what belongs and how to honour what was already present.

Some tracks feature Murphy’s own voice; others are performed by different singers. The effect is unusual and quietly powerful – at times it feels like hearing a cover version before ever encountering the original. Yet Murphy’s presence remains central. Whether through his own voice or through others interpreting his work, he is still the storyteller, still guiding the emotional arc.

There’s also a cinematic quality to the album – a sense that these songs could expand and transform depending on who inhabits them. They feel open, spacious, capable of holding multiple interpretations.

Musically, the record moves between intimate, stripped-back recordings – Murphy alone with guitar, his voice close and unguarded – and fuller band arrangements. In those quieter moments, there’s a striking immediacy: his performances carry a warmth and vulnerability that feels almost transcendent, as if the songs are arriving through him rather than being performed.

There’s a melancholic optimism running throughout the album, a sense of something both reflective and forward-looking. At times, it feels almost prophetic. The title track, Everything Is Alright, is particularly affecting. Its lyrics gesture toward the quiet deceptions we tell ourselves, while the album artwork – a figure with his head buried in the sand – resonates deeply with that theme. It’s a tender, restrained piece that avoids slipping into sentimentality.

After The War stands out for its clarity and conviction. There’s a sense of resolve in its delivery, and lines like “This is a new dawn breaking through” land with particular weight. Written as a personal love song, it nonetheless feels timely – echoing wider global tensions and offering a sense of hope beyond them.

One of the most moving moments comes with Murphy’s spoken introduction to There’s No Need To Be Afraid, a song written for a friend and shaped through multiple iterations. Hearing his voice in this context brings a sudden intimacy – a reminder of the person behind the songs, present in a way that feels immediate and real.

These are songs with nothing to hide. They carry an honesty that doesn’t rely on polish or perfection, but instead on feeling and intent. In completing this project, Tim Julian has done more than assemble a collection of unreleased material – he has helped preserve and extend Murphy’s voice.

It’s hard not to wish for the chance to have heard these songs as Murphy might have finished them himself. But Everything Is Alright offers something else: a collaborative act of care, and a final, resonant glimpse into an artist whose work continues to speak.