Lisa Hannigan

It's a welcome surprise awaiting the packed vaudoise crowd on this rainy May evening, as they file into the cramped cave of the Bleu Lezard, a small venue in the center of Lausanne. Perhaps beyond even the expectations surrounding Lisa Hannigan, whose face is familiar to anyone who's seen at least the video for "The Blower's Daughter", given that she spent several years as backing vocalist for Damien Rice, before breaking away for a rather promising solo career.

Her vocal gifts were never in question, but Hannigan still manages to amaze, pulling the crowd in with sheer force toward her romantic stories, her songs that can only be described as "clean", full of feelings that are easy but, at least under the lights of the Bleu Lezard, genuine. Not only thanks to her voice, but to her whole expressiveness, the way she moves, how she fills the gaps between songs, with a naturalness that surely also comes from her years of experience gained alongside Rice.

The folksy spirit that Hannigan's music takes on here plays a big part, far less restrained than on the fine "Passenger" (released here in Europe this year), made all the more authentic by the ever-present vocal support of her numerous fellow travelers, who likewise boast well-trained voices (at least a couple of the six members of her backing band have solo careers of their own). Theatrical and sincerely engaged, Lisa lets herself go, compensating in the process for the absence of Lucy Wilkins' violin, the noted collaborator of Paul Weller, Tindersticks and Bryan Ferry.

Though over the long haul the lightness grows rather heavy, between the festive, folksy "Knots" and "What I'll Do" - counterbalanced by the darker, more blues-inflected "A Sail", perhaps the best track on "Passenger" - and several songs that begin to flirt, if ever so delicately, with the saccharine ("Paper House", the title track), Hannigan manages to acquit herself gracefully on the group cover of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down", dedicated to the late Levon Helm, and with the amused, affectionate sarcasm of "Safe Travel (Don't Die)".

Thumbs firmly up, then, for a great performer - and a singer-songwriter without any grand ambitions.

Photo contributions by Patience Eding | Tilllate.com

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An appreciated surprise welcomes a crowded vaudoise audience in the rainy evening of May that leads into the cramped cave of the Bleu Lezard, a small club in the centre of Lausanne. Going, maybe, beyond the expectations that surround Lisa Hannigan, whose face is known to anybody who has seen the video of “The Blower’s Daughter”, as she has been, for several years, Damien Rice‘s second voice. Now Lisa has detached from the fellow countryman, to plunge into a solo career looking rather promising.

Her singing talents, even before the concert, were not to be discussed, but Hannigan manages all the same to amaze, to drag the audience at full tilt towards her romantic stories, towards her songs, which cannot be defined in any other way but as “clean”. Easy feelings but, at least under the Bleu Lezard’s lights, true. Not only thanks to her voice, but to her expressiveness whole, to the way she moves, to how she fills in during pauses, with a spontaneity that surely comes from the experience she grew together with Rice.

The popular spirit of Lisa Hannigan’s music has good game, presenting itself in a far less controlled manner, if compared to the nice studio version of “Passenger”, which has been published in Europe this year. It has a genuine vibe, maybe because of the omnipresent contribution of the large number of travel mates, displaying educated voices too. Histrionic and sincerely engrossed, Lisa also makes up for the absence of Lucy Wilkins’ – famous collaborator of Paul Weller, Tindersticks and Bryan Ferry – violin.

Even though the lightness becomes, in the long distance, quite heavy, among the merry “Knots” and “What I’ll Do” – counterbalanced by the darker and bluesy “A Sail”, probably the best track on “Passenger” – and several songs start flirting delicately with sappy feelings (“Paper House”, the title track), Hannigan manages to free herself with grace in the choral cover version of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down”, dedicated to the lamented Levon Helm, and with the amused and loving sarchasm of “Safe Travel (Don’t Die)”.

Thumbs well up for a great performer – and for a songwritess with little ambition.

Pictures are courtesy of Patience Eding | Tilllate.com

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