If such a thing is possible, LISA HANNIGAN has had a good grounding for pop stardom from a position once removed. Having added her memorably ethereal vocals to popular singer/songwriter Damien Rice on his enormously successful 'O' and '9' albums, she's received plenty of acclaim in her own right and now she's feeling sure-footed enough to strike out on her own courtesy of her debut solo album 'Sea Saw'.
However, while it's true to say Hannigan has a following waiting to snap this debut up, 'Sea Sew' isn't by any means a lavish, widescreen sonic affair with only the kitchen sink left at the studio door. It was recorded in live, close-miked fashion in her native Dublin over a creatively feverish 14 days during 2008, with friends lending microphones and instruments and Lisa and her mother Frances literally stitching together the sleeve artwork.
Such hands-on activity and punky DIY attitude is surely to be admired in these recessionary times, but there's nothing rushed or dashed-off here, even if the album has a suitably warm and intimate feel: the perfect setting for Hannigan's ruminations on love and that all-important minutiae of life.
Leaving aside a romantic, but spookily obsessive cover of Bert Jansch's 'Courting Blues', the songs have been accrued by Lisa during her time working with Damien Rice. Stylistically, she offers up an organic singer/ songwriter approach, with folk, blues, country and occasionally strident indie broadening the palette. It will quite probably appeal to Damien Rice's fans, but also anyone who's been gently wowed by the gentle treasures released by the likes of Clayhill and The Belles in recent years.
Opening tune 'An Ocean & A Rock' gives you some idea of what to expect. Built around Hannigan's gentle strum and supremely smoky vocals, there's a warm sensurround of pattering drums, double bass and tiny flecks of piano and glock before sighing strings are corralled. Hannigan's homespun lyrics (“I spoon you into my coffee cup, spin you through a delicate wash/ I wear you all day”) may be unassuming, but quietly get to the heart of the matter all the same.
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From here on, Hannigan rarely puts a foot wrong. Songs like 'Venn Diagram' and the fragile 'Splishy Splashy' (dedicated to late Irish singer/ songwriter Mic Christopher) are relentlessly intimate and frequently lifted by Donagh Molloy's inspired trumpet playing. She's not afraid to ramp up the drama either, as the smokily ethereal 'Sea Song' (with its' Latino Tindersticks leanings) and the tense and almost noir-ish 'Keep It All' are keen to demonstrate.
Like all great albums, she has something in reserve for the finale too. In this case, a killer one-two featuring 'Teeth' – an elegiac piano ballad which weathers a full-scale emotional storm before its' blown itself out – and 'Lille' where a Nico-esque harmonium drone is joined by rippling guitar and dignified strings and develops into a beauty you'll want to hug and hold on to for ages afterwards.
Sure, singer/ songwriter albums are ten a penny these days, but Lisa Hannigan's smoky delivery and intimate grace is most welcome at a time when the likes of Adele and Duffy seem to hold sway. By the sound of this, Damien Rice may have to watch his back too.
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