Friday, November 25, 2005
Vashti Bunyan
Just Another Diamond Day, 1970
Lookaftering, 2005
My most recent find, I unearthed Vashti Bunyan after cruising Pitchfork's recommendation list. I thought I'd take a chance on her--I knew roughly what to expect from my limited contact with Devendra Banhart and other freakfolk acts, but I was mostly intrigued by the story behind the two albums--a new album made after a 35-year lapse by an artist who walked away from the music business after her sole, universally highly-regarded album. I haven't yet gotten into Devendra Banhart or the other freakfolk acts--which I discovered only a few months ago after browsing the Young God catalog--but something about Vashti's sound intrigued me. I just finished listening to these two albums back-to-back, and have gone through Just Another Diamond Day a couple times.
Because of my lack of reference, Vashti Bunyan's earlier album defines my mental image of a '60s psychodelic folk movement. Somewhat whimsical lyrical themes, at times with surreal imagery, combine with ancient instrumentation. Many of the songs are shorter, almost like haiku, and the instrumentation on the album--from string accompaniament to flutes--changes from song to song. In this way the album evokes a walletful of moods, from wistful to even elegiac, while the shortness of the songs allows the album to touch each without settling in for extended meditation of any. The real attraction, though, is Vashti Bunyan's voice, which she pours over her lyrics and accompaniament like a delicate fragrance. The gentleness of her approach seems not dissimilar in spirit to that of the late Elliott Smith, though less wispy. Her voice is mixed more centrally than the backing music, but retains an earthy closeness that gives the whole recording a cooly intimate feel. It has the effect of recalling songs you heard yesterday telegraphed from the ancient past: simultaneously immediate and ancient.
The 2005 album feels much more like an album recorded in the now. It runs just four minutes shorter but has seven fewer songs, and the approach seems much more meditative and focused. The wistfulness is less immediate than in the earlier record, and the longer songs develop their emotional tone more intensely. There is as much variety but more focus in instrumentation from song to song, and at several moments Bunyan is accompanied solely by a piano or a guitar, with orchestrations which more add texture than set the stage. Bunyan's voice also nestles in more closely to the music, so one imagines her more sitting with her players than far in front of them as in the earlier album. And that voice: if 35 years have done anything they've given something of a foundation to her voice's airy fluidity, adding subtance if not age. Like the music itself, her voice has traded some of its wispiness for emotional texture.
Bottom line: I'm quite glad I have both albums, though I find Lookaftering a bit more accessible, as it feels more like a cohesive record than a collection of invaluable time capsules. Perhaps as I play the newer album more I'll be better able to appreciate the old--if Vashti Banyan has proven anything, it's that music can, like wine, grow more flavorful with age.
Lookaftering, 2005
My most recent find, I unearthed Vashti Bunyan after cruising Pitchfork's recommendation list. I thought I'd take a chance on her--I knew roughly what to expect from my limited contact with Devendra Banhart and other freakfolk acts, but I was mostly intrigued by the story behind the two albums--a new album made after a 35-year lapse by an artist who walked away from the music business after her sole, universally highly-regarded album. I haven't yet gotten into Devendra Banhart or the other freakfolk acts--which I discovered only a few months ago after browsing the Young God catalog--but something about Vashti's sound intrigued me. I just finished listening to these two albums back-to-back, and have gone through Just Another Diamond Day a couple times.
Because of my lack of reference, Vashti Bunyan's earlier album defines my mental image of a '60s psychodelic folk movement. Somewhat whimsical lyrical themes, at times with surreal imagery, combine with ancient instrumentation. Many of the songs are shorter, almost like haiku, and the instrumentation on the album--from string accompaniament to flutes--changes from song to song. In this way the album evokes a walletful of moods, from wistful to even elegiac, while the shortness of the songs allows the album to touch each without settling in for extended meditation of any. The real attraction, though, is Vashti Bunyan's voice, which she pours over her lyrics and accompaniament like a delicate fragrance. The gentleness of her approach seems not dissimilar in spirit to that of the late Elliott Smith, though less wispy. Her voice is mixed more centrally than the backing music, but retains an earthy closeness that gives the whole recording a cooly intimate feel. It has the effect of recalling songs you heard yesterday telegraphed from the ancient past: simultaneously immediate and ancient.
The 2005 album feels much more like an album recorded in the now. It runs just four minutes shorter but has seven fewer songs, and the approach seems much more meditative and focused. The wistfulness is less immediate than in the earlier record, and the longer songs develop their emotional tone more intensely. There is as much variety but more focus in instrumentation from song to song, and at several moments Bunyan is accompanied solely by a piano or a guitar, with orchestrations which more add texture than set the stage. Bunyan's voice also nestles in more closely to the music, so one imagines her more sitting with her players than far in front of them as in the earlier album. And that voice: if 35 years have done anything they've given something of a foundation to her voice's airy fluidity, adding subtance if not age. Like the music itself, her voice has traded some of its wispiness for emotional texture.
Bottom line: I'm quite glad I have both albums, though I find Lookaftering a bit more accessible, as it feels more like a cohesive record than a collection of invaluable time capsules. Perhaps as I play the newer album more I'll be better able to appreciate the old--if Vashti Banyan has proven anything, it's that music can, like wine, grow more flavorful with age.
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