Vashti Bunyan’s performance at Johnny Brenda’s had her seeming none the worse for wear, despite what’s been politely termed a raucous evening at Carnegie Hall the night before, hosted by David Byrne. Her piquant lullabies sounded as crisp and pure as the cold night air, hushing an already reverent crowd. Considering it was the first I’d heard Bunyan, I found myself pleasantly surprised to find her music as much a touchstone to today’s acid folkies as to Belle and Sebastian.
Most importantly, Bunyan expressed a skepticism that’s missing from much of the current crop of folkies whose poseur politics and amateur hour apocalypticism I find hopelessly cynical. When Bunyan introduced her songs, she routinely paused to qualify them either as dreams deferred, or as touching tributes to her children. By putting her work in light of her own experiences, it was a lovely way to see how an artist can mature and be successful by admitting the impediments to their ambitions rather than letting that disappointment consume them.