And yet... and yet... there is a curious sense of emotional detachment throughout, as if Donohue were floating just above the proceedings rather than being down in the pudding. It took me something like 30 spins of the CD to figure out what it was that was keeping me from going nuts about it. There are moments when he's more engaged than others - the desperate plea in "Vermillion" to either a lover or (possibly) a god for readmission into good graces is one - but on the whole there seems to be an emotional hole, despite the "wave of emotion sending ships across yer ocean" mentioned in "Across Yer Ocean".

Am I asking for Whitney Houston-esque histrionics? Hell no. What do you take me for? In all honesty, however, I can't really put my finger on what it is that's missing. I may, in fact, be way off base,(as shocking as that may seem, we can't discount the possibility), but I don't think so. At any rate, I'm left with the feeling that the vital connection between head and heart is not completely made here, so I can't give this album a full recommendation. It is beautiful, without a doubt, but ultimately, it comes up empty for me. There is much healing in nature, but you have to meet it halfway.