Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10

Mercy comes not in the wake of violence, but in fearless gentleness afforded to those with humble minds and modesty weaved through their D.N.A., those who identify with the need for compassion, empathy of the times that the other may have withstood, and finally crumbled underneath, the generosity and quality that is, as the bard was persuaded to note, not strained, by temper or of spirit. Mercy is a right to all, it doesn’t mean that the action has been forgotten, but that is forgiven, understood.

It is in the tone and inflection of the voice in which Mercy is found to be genuine, and for Liverpool’s Paul Dunbar, quality has always been the overriding factor across all of the musician’s work, and it is with certain honour meted out that the finesse of the man’s thoughts, his outpourings of beauty, are once again unquestionably enveloped in grace.

Paul Dunbar, regardless of whether he is on his own or with the company of other like-minded individuals on stage, exudes compassion, moreover it is concern, a tangible empathy, and his two weapons of choice, his guitar and his voice, meet the dangers of society with a sparkle in his eye, rebuking the disjointed and greed of our times with the requisite punishment due, but then, as the song’s title advocates, Mercy is to be offered, with both hands, to make sure that the wrongs are acknowledged, confronted, but with humility always in the armoury of the merciful.

The sound is one of beauty, that is to be expected, but there is encouragement, a sense of reinforced inspiration that comes out of the ether and settles in front of the listener, the growl replaced by the purr of a gentle heart ready to pounce.

A song of dynamic peace, one that underpins the ethos of the musician and lyricist, one that bolsters the mood and sense of hope immensely. Mercy is not always given, but when it comes from one soul to another, it is one to remember, and pass on to all you come in contact with.

Ian D. Hall