However, I have to turn my thumbs down overall. As much as I would love to praise Lisa Hannigan with the highest of honors, there is something about her music that does not speak to me as deeply as I would like it to.
Her music makes me feel like I'm sitting out on Grandma's back porch in a fuzzy knit-wool sweater. Except it's itchy—and it’s July. There is a certain weight heeded much throughout her music that cannot be overlooked. But in that same direction it is left soft, with a texture comparable to that of tapioca pudding. You can either be a strong musician or you can be a weak one. You can’t mix elements of both in between your music and expect to come out teetering to the powerful side.
I was left feeling almost helpless; I sat there trying to pour all of my emotion into what she was giving out to the audience, but my senses just wouldn’t budge. I don’t want to sound too demoralizing, but maybe she should have toured with someone not as great—David Gray is one of the most amazingly talented and poignant acts I have seen this year—so as to leave a little of the stage lights for her.
It seems to me she was doing her best to underwhelm the audience, which is quite a pity. I don’t see that she has all it takes to stand on her own as a solo artist. And so, every emotion remaining under my skin once Hannigan exited the stage—and as Gray approached it—soon disintegrated into dust. It just didn’t matter anymore.