Boston-based one-man-band Gordy Murphy returns with “Leather Cigarette,” a brooding, slow-burning single that builds on the emotional weight and sonic textures of his acclaimed debut album Memory’s Edge. If that record was a haunting dive into the mind’s shadowy corners, “Leather Cigarette” is the flickering match that dares to light it up.
Inspired by a vivid memory in New Orleans, a woman lighting a cigarette outside a bar, smoke curling from her El Camino, the night alive with rumble and recklessness, Murphy transforms a fleeting moment into a full-blown fever dream. The track doesn’t offer moral judgment or clear narrative closure; instead, it sits in that suspended space between impulse and consequence, between desire and hesitation.
Murphy’s delivery is restrained yet loaded, with quiet intensity simmering beneath every line. Psychedelic guitar licks and atmospheric reverb float alongside sparse percussion, conjuring echoes of Hendrix’s sensual grit, The Doors’ cinematic cool, and the haunted introspection of Jeff Buckley. It’s both classic and contemporary, a blend of rock nostalgia and modern emotional grit.
Lyrically, Murphy continues to prove himself a master of the suggestive line, less interested in exposition than in mood. “Leather Cigarette” isn’t about an event; it’s about the feeling that wraps around it like smoke in headlights. It’s a song that hums with risk and seduction, crafted with poetic detail and cinematic restraint.
With “Leather Cigarette,” Gordy Murphy builds atmospheres you have to feel your way through. And this one? It’s intoxicating.