Even though it's a pretty middling selection, it's an essential angle to Bunyan's portrait. She's said in various interviews and notes, in her gentle way, that she doesn't think of herself as a folk singer.
And even the barest demos here really sound like demos, not just unkempt roughs of fully formed songs. Though most of her music has a serene, rural quality, she never romanticized remoteness, telling Pitchfork in of "winter-long mud and damp dogs" and how housework "pains" her.
She didn't move to farms in Scotland and Ireland because it was more wondrous or lovely or romantic, but because she'd considered herself a failure and figured her lot in life was to bear kids and keep quiet-- projects she expresses a bittersweet ambiguity about in the lyrics to Lookaftering.
Despite the distortions that came with her maturity, this collection indicated that Bunyan's subjects have always remained the same: love, time, and the way love works over time. Just Another Diamond Day 's sense of remove, though, was so profound that it's hard to imagine her anticipating anything, especially human contact. Lookaftering 's "Feet of Clay" would've been a heartbreak song in ; in she wrote it as an acquiescence, a lover watching from a kitchen window as someone departs, an ode to the future in general, not any one in particular.
What sets these songs apart is disposition. Bunyan hadn't yet needed to figure out the secrets of time; how to traverse it or compress it. Ironically, the world must've seemed bright to her in ; in , it must've seemed drab.
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Winter Is Blue. Coldest Night of the Year. Girl's Song in Winter. If in Winter Lovers. Don't Believe. Jenny Lewis.
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