Personally, Lisa Hannigan’s performance (30 May) was the sound of home. And the sound of Ireland’s finest export. Where to start?
Seeing her tonight was a treat, the final show of her Australian tour (at Sydney Opera House as part of Vivid Festival). They are in celebration mode. And from the plains of royal Meath (I’m half Meath/ Limerick myself) rises this voice. It’s effortlessly original, smokey, soaring, the lonesome touch, inventive, soothing.
Lisa's band rise with her. Like the Suir, Nore and Barrow converging, the vocal harmonies take on a Fleet Foxes-ness, recent visitors to Vivid themselves.
There is no bass player, but the kick drum sort of takes care of it all. It’s like the soundtrack for sweethearts on a picnic at Coogee beach, eating ceapairí blasta, flicking rubber bands at the sun, the kick drum being that sub bass that hits through the ground from the waves crashing on cliffs below.
I saw Lisa before at a festival in Ireland. There were more players then. Guys with bells on it. This trio still brings the same delicateness and rises formed around her most recent release ‘At Swim’. A nod (surely?) to Flann O’Brien’s agreed masterpiece ‘At Swim-Two-Birds’.
Flann O’Brien, aka Myles Na gCopaleen, aka Brian O’Nolan, was (is?) Ireland’s coolest writer adored by '60s kids in America while being virtually unknown in Ireland. 'At Swim' topped the charts in Ireland. But has Lisa found today's equivalent international audience? She is so deserving of it.
The room is aglow with her gratitude to her fans, the “furry legends” (koalas and kangaroos) she met on her trip and grateful that the band including “Jetlag John” (Smith) made it through in one (three) piece(s).
Her voice seems to have matured, like a wine towards its peak. Her moves on mandolin, guitar and dancing in general has a Joni Mitchell-ness to it. Plucked patterns rising, flickering and breathing like gentle flames. Vocal lines flying Kate Bush shapes. Arising, going and resolving to Inisfree. Or as Herbie Hancock puts it: “like choices that Miles [Davis] would have made.”
‘Safe Travels (Don’t Die)’ brings chuckles. Lyrics like being tucked in. The more lonesome ‘We The Drowned’ is shanty spirits meeting Calexico kick-drum dust in a becalmed fog adrift. A telecaster brings some Handsome Family values to the production.
The a cappella encore ‘Anahorish’ is mesmeric. “Thank you so much,” she repeats. It’s all smiles. And a standing ovation.
Thinking of this review, I try to find her voice on the map. Somewhere between Thom Yorke and some French Piaf Nico chanteuse or other? But why bother? This is simply Lisa Hannigan. A true original.
