“A SONG, A STORY TOLD” - Robin James Hurt
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Every so often, an album comes along that feels like it’s been carved straight from the wood and wind of Ireland itself — rough-hewn, melodic, and utterly alive. Robin James Hurt’s A Song, A Story Told is exactly that.
Hurt — a veteran guitarist and singer whose fingerprints can be found across decades of Irish music — has always been known for his technical mastery and soulful restraint. But here, he trades in polish for pulse. Recorded entirely on four- and eight-track cassette machines in his own home, the album hums with a kind of analogue truth that feels increasingly rare in modern music.
The project began with a spark of collaboration: a creative meeting of minds between Hurt and Dublin poet and lyricist Tony Floyd Kenna. Their chemistry was instant. Hurt’s melodic instincts found a perfect counterpart in Kenna’s earthy, narrative-driven writing — the kind that unearths whole lives in a handful of lines. Their first song together, “Take Me Home,” is the album’s emotional cornerstone — a quietly powerful reflection on emigration and identity.
From there, the partnership blossomed into a full cycle of songs that feel like they’ve been lived as much as written. The lead single, “Hey Mary (Play a Song for Me),” bursts with joy — a foot-stomping, heart-beating tribute to the magic of street music and to Máire Úna Ní Beaghlaoich.
The title track, “A Song, A Story Told,” shifts gears entirely — a folk lullaby wrapped in tenderness, sung from parent to child. It’s the kind of song that stops time for a moment, as if the world itself were listening in. Then there’s “Room Full of Music,” which swings with infectious energy — a reminder that Hurt’s roots in folk are forever intertwined with the joyous abandon of rock. It’s a track built for live rooms, pints in hand, and voices raised.
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Sonically, the album is a warm, tactile experience. Hurt’s decision to record on vintage cassette equipment gives the songs a rich, organic texture — you can feel the wood of the guitars, the hum of old amplifiers, the ghosts of past takes bleeding gently into the mix. It’s the antithesis of modern overproduction, and that’s precisely its power. It feels like a record made by human hands — equal parts craft, accident, and grace.
There’s also a quiet defiance in how A Song, A Story Told refuses to chase trends. It’s not “productized,” not glossy or algorithm-ready. It’s handmade — the kind of record that feels like it could have been made in 1975 or 2025, because truth never really goes out of style.
For Hurt, this is more than a return — it’s a reckoning with what it means to make art for the right reasons. It’s about telling stories that matter, even when no one’s asking for them. About keeping the lamp lit in the window for whoever might be listening in the dark.
A Song, A Story Told is, ultimately, what its title promises: a conversation between melody and memory, between past and present, between two artists who believe songs are still sacred. It’s music that carries you home — even if home is still a story you’re learning how to tell.
“A Song, A Story Told” is available now on all major streaming platforms
