Bridget St. John

PopMatters Associate Events Editor
”What might have been?” It’s the question that makes myths and fans the flames of infamy. What if J.D. Salinger had continued to publish? What if John Lennon had never died? The unrealized potential of an artist can be more seductive than their extant work. One artist currently enjoying some well-deserved retroactive praise is Vashti Bunyan, a folk singer that released only one album, Just Another Diamond Day, in 1970 and then disappeared from music for three decades. Part of Bunyan’s allure is the lingering question of just what the music world missed with her premature departure. Sure, her long-awaited follow-up fills in some of the holes – delightfully bookending her career – but what of the implied career that never was? We will never have a real answer, but I have a pretty strong hunch that she could have turned out a lot like Bridget St. John. Which is to say, she wouldn’t be getting any attention at all. St. John released her first, John Peel-produced record Ask Me No Questions in 1969, and though she went on to release several quality albums, she may have created a better legacy by shrouding her story in mystery — Jumblequeen, her rockish collab with members of Jethro Tull, did nothing in the way of fostering her folk mystique. Though she hasn’t released much material, she never completely gave up on music. And that’s a pity because she’s a talented artist that, rather than being rediscovered, has remained largely unnoticed. At Tonic (a show where she wasn’t even the headliner), St. John played a refreshingly relaxed set. She kept close to her simple folk roots, backed by a second acoustic guitarist. The arrangements served backdropped her voice, which is best compared to Nico, if Nico kept in tune. Its husky, solemn sound tinged every note with a melancholy edge, and the songs had an elegiac feel that matched the tone of her reminiscences between numbers. At the same time, she seemed a little flustered and nervous on stage, which might explain why she so rarely performs. Though the set mostly focused on songs from the ’60s and ’70s, it also included more recent, and more recognizable, songs. Her covers ranged from an old Perry Como number that she remembered singing as a child to “Body Breaks” by Devendra Banhart. She told a story about how Banhart met her years ago and sent her recordings of his songs. I felt as if I’d heard this story before: Banhart also contacted Vashti Bunyan long before he became an established artist. Perhaps she should have kept in closer contact. St. John’s best original was the title track from Ask Me No Questions. As she put it, John Peel spent ten hours working on her 12-song album, and spent two of those hours working on this song. Another was a recent number called, as far as I can tell, “The Hole in Your Heart” that doesn’t appear on any of her records. Her songwriting style hasn’t changed much over the years, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s difficult to say whether music history will leave room for Bridget St. John. Tastes change and, while Vashti Bunyan is part of a folk upswing at the moment, who’s to say we won’t suddenly find Jethro Tull receiving a retro revival in a few years and St. John’s Jumblequeen receiving the good graces it’s due? For now, though, it would be enough if fans of Bunyan and Banhart branched out a bit and explored St. John’s work. She may never enter that hallowed garden of great British folksingers – the one where Nick Drake waits to play croquet with Donovan — but with credentials like these, she’ll certainly be invited for tea.