Jessie Murph : That Ain’t No Man That’s The Devil Review

by Shannon Smith

Jessie Murph’s debut album, That Ain’t No Man That’s The Devil, showcases her approach to today’s songwriting and genre-blending, but her vocal skills are the most impressive. From breath control and pitch to emotional nuance, this 12-track project underscores Murph’s ability to connect deeply with her listeners through emotive voice alone.

Murph’s control is evident throughout the album, particularly in tracks like “I Hope It Hurts.” Here, she moves effortlessly between her chest voice and her upper register, holding sustained notes without losing tonal quality. Her transitions into falsetto are seamless, lending the track an ethereal quality while maintaining the emotional gravity. In the chorus, her pitch is laser-sharp, even when she stretches into her bluesy embellishments, which add another layer of depth to her performance.

Her use of pitch bending in “Gotta Hold” is another example of her vocal flexibility. The way she glides through glissandos in the verses highlights her ability to manipulate pitch for emotional effect, bringing a sense of yearning and tension to the lyrics. It’s not just about hitting the right notes for Murph—it’s how she colors those notes with emotion.

Murph’s clear diction is crucial in conveying the raw emotions embedded in her lyrics. In “Dirty” (featuring Teddy Swims), the pronunciation of key words like “hurt” and “dirty” lands with precision, making the listener feel the sting of betrayal she’s expressing. Her enunciation cuts through the mix, ensuring every word is heard, yet her delivery has an unforced casualness that keeps the song from feeling over-polished.

One of the most impressive aspects of Murph’s vocal performance is her rhythmic clarity, particularly in tracks that blend genres like hip-hop and pop. “Son of a Bitch” is a prime example of how she plays with rhythm in her phrasing. The song has a laid-back groove, but Murph’s ability to break up phrases and inject rhythmic accents with her voice gives the track a conversational feel. Her timing is impeccable, enhancing the punchiness of each phrase without sacrificing melodic flow.

Emotional authenticity is the beating heart of That Ain’t No Man That’s The Devil. Murph’s voice carries the weight of lived experience; you can hear the ache in every note. Tracks like “Cold” and “Bang Bang (The Ballad of Amy Fisher)” allow Murph to dig into her lower register, where her voice takes on a resonant, almost gritty quality. This tonal shift adds gravity to her storytelling, pulling the listener deeper into the narrative.

Murph’s emotional delivery reaches its peak in “I Could Go Bad,” a track that has her playing with phrasing and dynamics to convey vulnerability and defiance. The final line, “Take that away, and I am just hurt,” is delivered with such emotional intensity that it feels like a gut punch. She lets her voice break just slightly, creating a raw, unguarded moment that makes the song feel deeply personal.

In “Wild Ones” (featuring Jelly Roll), Murph’s emotional delivery is more rebellious. Her voice is layered with effects, but you can still hear the sneer in her tone, giving the track a devil-may-care attitude. Though the vocal production leans into the electro-pop territory, Murph’s personality cuts through, showing that even with studio effects, she remains the song’s emotional core.

That Ain’t No Man That’s The Devil is not just a debut—it’s a statement of vocal mastery. Jessie Murph proves that her voice is an instrument of technical skill and emotional expression. Whether she’s belting out high notes with perfect pitch or letting her voice crack under the weight of vulnerability, Murph’s vocal choices serve the song and the story. This album is a must-listen for anyone who loves vocals that cut deep.