The news that this is Bunyan's final album and subsequent tour is probably unsurprising given the speed at which she releases music. Nearing her 70th birthday, on stage, she displays a placid earnestness and patience which has been evident since her first release. Accompanied by Gareth Dickson on guitar, the hour or so they sit in front of the church altar is a demonstration of reflective fragility, with Bunyan's vocals remaining as profoundly beautiful as when she was in her twenties. A case in point is new song 'Across The Water', a whispered lullaby rolled along by Dickson's gentle fingerpicking.
Pausing in between each song to briefly explain her process, Bunyan tells the story of the breakdown of a complex past relationship as she introduces Gunpowder. Whilst one might expect an element of rage from such a tale, this story gives way to a warm yet resigned vocal. It's something Bunyan has done so well across her three records, and the humanity with which she approaches her songs comes across perfectly on stage.
Noticeably, Bunyan appears to be at peace with the path she has been led down, chuckling to herself as she introduces the stunning 'Train Song', pointing out that "it was probably only ever played on the radio twice", without even a hint of bitterness. Whilst creating an enchanting soundscape, there's a sense of quiet defiance as she sings "suddenly now, I know where I belong" with Bunyan's perceived failures of the past now firmly eradicated, her legacy is surely secured.
Whilst it's undeniably a shame that Bunyan's work has been shared so sparingly throughout the years, the fact that nights like this even happen at all is really all that matters.
FUTURE GIGS
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