PHLAC

Francis Dunnery is on to something.

I had seen his name for years, always mentioned with high praise but never actually heard any of his music. A week prior, Dave Bamundo mentioned a house concert being hosted by a guy named Ray Heffernan. I perked up; years ago I had organized a similar event for the pianist Patrick Moraz at a townhouse on West 10th Street in Manhattan. Ray, a restauranteur who moonlights in the music industry had put together a private show for Francis Dunnery a year ago in his beautiful 1864-built Harvard Avenue Staten Island home. Ray and Maureen would never think of moving from their historic house. Every wall is lined with artwork, photographs, and family pictures. Their walls have a lot of depth, many stories no doubt.

Dunnery, in line with a minority of respectable non-mainstream artists, has essentially turned his back on the music industry, having been cast out of what he calls the comforts of “The Golden Castle” years ago. (Read his brilliant essay about it here). He now runs his own label called Aquarian Nation and accepts invitations for private shows where he can temper the atmosphere and flow of an evening to his liking. The result for Dunnery is what he hopes is a mutually satisfying dialog where everyone ends up in the jacuzzi—his metaphor for the reward of a wholly satisfying night of song and words.

Two days before the show, I began listening to Dunnery’s music—samples from his site—then bought The Gully Flats Boys from iTunes. I played it continuously for two days while reading his website. It appealed to me immediately as did his online writings. (Dunnery documented most of his shows beginning from 2006—mainly in the UK with others scattered throughout Europe and the US). The Gully Flats Boys is a true coming of age essay with themes that recount his Irish Catholic childhood in the northern UK, or lament the death of his father, or reflect his coming of age as a man at mid-life. Dunnery’s voice hints at a Gabrielesque tenor, but at times he offers a sound reminiscent of Dewey Bunnell of the group America on a track such as “Soldier.” The lyrics though are entirely his—distinctly reflective of a life growing up in Egremont, North England to leaving the boy-child behind in later years.

On this evening, about thirty-five guests nestled in tightly. Dunnery took a front corner of the salon-style room and delivered perfectly-intoned vocals which at moments were just above a whisper. With both voice and acoustic guitar unamplified, he gave an intimate performance that every listener attentively soaked in.

The setlist: Chocolate Heart, Give It Up and Let Go, In My Father’s Eyes, Just A Man, Homegrown, I’m In Love, Good Life.

Although Dunnery has performed or collaborated with icons like Robert Plant, Santana, and Lauren Hill, he is relatively unknown. He is the epitome of an unsung hero. (Isn’t that the beauty of it)? Another live collaboration with David Sancious, add in a drummer and bassist…all acoustic…could be a good thing.

Dave Bamundo, Francis Dunnery, and Rob Connolly chat after his performance.

Francis Dunnery, at 6′ 5″ dwarfs a happy new fan.

Host Ray Heffernan looks on while Francis Dunnery talks with Rob Connolly.