Just lately - the last two or three months, maybe - I've been feeling more enthused about music than I can remember feeling for ages; I've been listening more attentively, staying up late doing so, seeking out new stuff, and, most importantly, it's been having an effect on me, making me feel in a particular, difficult to describe way that only art (and, for a lot of my art-consuming life, particularly music) does.
That feeling is kind of ineffable; it arises in the moment, but it's always connected to a host of other feelings, associations, impressions, longings, acute and diffuse. Somewhat unexpectedly, Bic Runga's latest has been the big one in the last few weeks, which probably has something to do with the music itself and more still to do with my receptiveness; and even more lately, I've gotten completely stuck on the first track (and the one that got me to order the cd after hearing it on a compilation) on Lisa Hannigan's Sea Sew, "Ocean and a Rock", in the same way.
Like the rest of the album, "Ocean and a Rock" is basically a folk song with some pop trimmings, Irish-inflected, adorned with a few instrumental elements, but the song is set apart by its stately, oceanic (ha) melody and the perfect way that the steady drum beat, the punctuating strings and brass parts, and Hannigan's quietly expressive voice mesh together. It has a bit of a Holly Throsby mood, though not quite as hushed; each time it ends, it leaves me wanting more.
The rest of Sea Sew isn't quite as wonderful, but there's a bit to like on it. On repeated listens, it reveals more, and there are a few surprising - even somewhat dissonant - arrangements and variations built in throughout.
(Lisa Hannigan has been vaguely on my radar before, first as the backing singer on "The Blower's Daughter", which lodged in my head because of Closer, then as one of the standout vocalists in "Way to Blue".)
That feeling is kind of ineffable; it arises in the moment, but it's always connected to a host of other feelings, associations, impressions, longings, acute and diffuse. Somewhat unexpectedly, Bic Runga's latest has been the big one in the last few weeks, which probably has something to do with the music itself and more still to do with my receptiveness; and even more lately, I've gotten completely stuck on the first track (and the one that got me to order the cd after hearing it on a compilation) on Lisa Hannigan's Sea Sew, "Ocean and a Rock", in the same way.
Like the rest of the album, "Ocean and a Rock" is basically a folk song with some pop trimmings, Irish-inflected, adorned with a few instrumental elements, but the song is set apart by its stately, oceanic (ha) melody and the perfect way that the steady drum beat, the punctuating strings and brass parts, and Hannigan's quietly expressive voice mesh together. It has a bit of a Holly Throsby mood, though not quite as hushed; each time it ends, it leaves me wanting more.
The rest of Sea Sew isn't quite as wonderful, but there's a bit to like on it. On repeated listens, it reveals more, and there are a few surprising - even somewhat dissonant - arrangements and variations built in throughout.
(Lisa Hannigan has been vaguely on my radar before, first as the backing singer on "The Blower's Daughter", which lodged in my head because of Closer, then as one of the standout vocalists in "Way to Blue".)
