New Buffalo

The start to my evening was not the best: turns out thongs and shorts aren’t ‘smart’ or ‘casual’ enough for a swanky joint like The Basement. Saved by a friend who lives nearby, I went and got some pants and shoes and returned where, changing back into my shorts and thongs in the bathrooms, the sounds of New Buffalo’s ‘Recovery’ drifted under the cubicle door. Suitable, it seemed: my recovery; up against the man, my bare legs feeling free in an emphatic gesture to dress codes everywhere.

The rest of the evening was magical, of course. The five New Buffalo songs that I witnessed were charming and polished, Sally Seltmann’s voice serene and clear. For one she sat at the grand piano, an accompanying musician on melodica. For the others she stood at the microphone with guitar alone, treading carefully through new and old material. At times backed with tape loops, too, it was a very organized and pure sound, like her recordings, and one that was sincere and warm in an intimate venue.

Vashti Bunyan was unreal. It’s tremendous to see her in person, pouring joy into her craft, as if_ Lookaftering wasn’t staggering enough in its beauty and scope. To hear a voice so pure, a voice of someone who was finally fulfilling a dream they’ve had for 40 years: it’s wonderful. Her enthusiasm was clear; she could barely contain it. Together with Gareth Dixon (on guitar) and Jo Mango (on everything: piano, flute, accordion, finger piano), Bunyan moved through songs mostly from _Lookeraftering and a couple from Just Another Diamond Day. She sounded fairly true to the recordings, with an added warmth due mainly to her smile; what a smile! Completely enrapturing, like each of her songs. Unbridled is definitely the word, but her shyness was a virtue alongside a strange sort of confidence. Her presence was beguiling; up there on stage, a little awkward, but presenting a sound that is just so well-formed and so fully realised.

Between songs were stories from the past; of how songs were written and what they were about, of personal accomplishments in travelling away from London on horse and carriage to a farm in Northern Scotland. Small victories, and enormous ones too. And they sounded like a triumph, these songs; like a foggy ride through paddocks with only a small distance visible in front, treading carefully, slowly but surely.