Lisa Hannigan talks writing process for third album

[damien lisa]

^lol, what's going on in germany

short review by Gary Kaill http://www.theskinny.co.uk/music/rev...nnigan-at-swim

As with her first two records, At Swim favours stealth over force, and its subtleties demand repeated listens. There are no showcase tunes, or at least nothing with a hook large enough to immediately add to the loyal audience she won with 2008's debut Sea Sew. But Hannigan's oeuvre requires patience and focus, and while much of this new collection is dependent on tone and texture to connect, eventually deeper qualties shine through.

The boldy dramatised Prayer for the Dying – a classically styled torch song – and the spares keys and percussion of We the Drowned: these are songs built from, seemingly, little. Typified by the acapella Anahorish, they make much of their unadorned presentation and their understated melodics. Hannigan (here joined by The National's Aaron Dessner, who approached her to offer production support) sings with a joyous and unfettered sense of freedom. The way she delivers the closing Barton – a beautful and mesmerising elegy – is an inch away from miraculous.

review by Jeff Hemmings http://brightonsfinest.com/html/inde...nnigan-at-swim

Produced by Araon Dressner (The National’s guitarist and established producer), this is Hannigan's third album following 2011’s ‘Passenger’ and the Mercury-nominated Sea Sew in 2008. It’s been five years in the making, and there seems to have been a period when she struggled to write, instead devoting her time to a new boyfriend, voiceover (for the Oscar-nominated animation Song of the Sea) and soundtrack work (for Fargo and Gravity), and dabbling a little in podcasting; she co-hosted the ’Soundings’ podcast, where Lisa would interview guests such as Harry Shearer, Sharon Horgan and David Arnold.

But in terms of her own music she seemed to be temporarily at a loss, and it wasn't until Dressner apparently emailed her out of the blue, that she sparked into writing mode, the result being her most mature and adult work to date. An album that again demonstrates her keen way with a melody, aided by that mesmerising voice that floats along seamlessly, sometimes holding a note for ages, a pure and unalloyed sound. In addition, Dressner and Hannigan put together a band that compliments the sentiments and the mood pretty much perfectly; Dressner's brilliant production always appropriate, simple and avoiding the curse of the overwrought. It's a great example of less is more, all recorded in an intense seven-day burst in a church in Hudson, New York, near where Dressner lives.

Where previously Hannigan would sometimes indulge in a playful musicality and sunny optimism - with what looked like quite a lot of fun doing so - on songs that littered her Sea Sew album, as well as from the ‘Passenger’ album (‘Knots’, ‘What'll I Do’ et al), here she's deadly serious in tackling those age old themes of love, isolation, and homesickness, an undercurrent of sadness prevalent throughout. It's epitomised by the quite simply beautiful ‘Prayer for the Dying’, possibly her finest moment yet. There's lots of reverb here, as Hannigan really gets her angelic voice out, all elongated notes, and subtly tremulous. The sound is akin to an old school doo-wop tune but without the harmonies, just her lamentful voice, inspired in this case by the passing of a friend's parent after an extended illness. Similarly, ‘Funeral Suit’ says it all in the title; pain and sadness expressed through those beautifully crafted and heartfelt notes. As does the simple yet mildly epic piano and guitar-based ‘We, The Drowned’, although there is a celebratory spirit within the darkness: "We know not the fire in which we burn / but we sing and we sing, and the flame goes higher / We read not the pages which we turn / but we sing, and we sing, and we sing," a distant trumpet sounding as trumpets somehow do, life affirming. And lead track ‘Fall’, a song co-written with her former producer Joe Henry, although full of arcane references, is fundamentally about struggle.

It's not all bleak, though. Musically speaking, there's a lightness of touch throughout the album, albeit still wrapped up in a comforting blanket of melancholy. Such as the gentle and hushed ‘Snow’, where Hannigan's voice recalls Rachel Sermanni (as it also does on ‘Fall’), a childlike quality that also serves well on the piano-based and ethereal ‘Ora’. A deeply sad sounding song, it unfortunately suffers from Hannigan's occasionally indecipherable singing style, such is the hushed fragility of some of her singing.

Inevitably, love and desire comes into At Swim, particularly on the warming glow and pulsing groove of ‘Undertow’, which also features some understated banjo on the chorus: "I want to swim in your garden… I want to float on every word you say… I want to be underneath your weather", she enticingly sings. And on the gorgeous ‘Tender’, the band get into minor French cabaret mode, as Hannigan swoops and swoons, mimicking the 'dancing moves' of any relationship.

And then there's ‘Anahorish’, a short, acapella-only version of fellow Irish native Seamus Heaney's poem of the same name, which is about 'a place of clear water', a place where he first went to school and was introduced to the world of education. With multiple harmonies, it's a tender and sympathetic reading of this masterful work.

There's a gently magisterial quality about At Swim that completely avoids bombast and the overplaying of emotions. Hannigan's essential playfulness may have been undermined in recent times, and there's a fragility and a deep melancholy spirit prevalent throughout but almost everything here rises through the bleak and gloomy mists, not as apparitions or shadows of her self, but as a life affirming, if somewhat tender, creature of flesh and blood.

by Michael Bialas Stroke of Luck? How Lisa Hannigan Got Back in the Swim of Things

For Lisa Hannigan, it was time to either sink or swim.

The lovely Irish singer-songwriter blessed with an exquisite voice and enough vivid images and mesmerizing metaphors to fill the Atlantic Ocean thought she was ready to make her third full-length album. What followed, though, was a constant struggle to stay afloat that led to a plunge into self-doubt.

Then a life preserver emerged to help rescue her from a creative abyss.



The result is At Swim, a shimmering 11-song collection that marks her highly anticipated return as a solo recording artist after a five-year absence. The album will be released worldwide (ATO Records) on Aug. 19.

On the phone from London in late July, the elegant Hannigan displayed a pleasant sense of humor, even while describing the inner battle she experienced while diving back into the business after taking “an embarrassingly long time between albums.”

Splitting time between Dublin and London while developing a personal relationship left Hannigan feeling homesick and unusually uninspired as songwriting became a painstakingly arduous process.

“It never happened that way before,” explained Hannigan, whose previous two albums were 2008’s See Sew and 2011’s Passenger. “I’d always kind of gotten into some sort of flow. ... But halfway along, when I was really in the doldrums of a blank page syndrome, I got an email from Aaron Dessner saying, ‘If you’d like to write together or if you need me to produce your record or (provide) some sort of direction, please give me a call.’ So we ended up being musical pen pals from month to month.”

The out-of-the-blue message from the National‘s talented multi-instrumentalist was a godsend for Hannigan, who at the time of this interview still didn’t know what motivated Dessner — whom she called her “lifebuoy” — to get in touch.

Asked if that’s something that frequently happens in her life, Hannigan laughed while drawing out her rambunctious reply.

“No-o-o-o! And certainly not from somebody like Aaron Dessner, whose work I really love and admire. ... He had a very strong idea of how he heard the record sounding. Even before I sent him any songs. So I think he was familiar somewhat with my work before. And he had a very strong kind of aesthetic idea of how he wanted it to be.”

Assuming their common bond — separate musical experiences with the Australian folk duo Luluc — was the reason, Hannigan sounded amazed and amused that the collaboration with Dessner actually happened.

Divine intervention, perhaps?

“I’m not a religious person but I did (laughs) sort of really hope that I was gonna have ... that the window was gonna open in my situation,” she said, still laughing. “I really did because I felt so stuck. And I’d never really felt that before. And I very diligently sat down and tried to write everyday and did write things — terrible, terrible things. ... Every once in a blue moon I would write a song and I would love it. And that actually ended up on the record. But they were very few and far between, those moments, compared to my usual ... not than I’m in any way prolific (laughs) by any standards. But I certainly had more of a rhythm before. So, yeah, I don’t know whether somebody’s been watching over me or it’s just pure ridiculous luck but I’m very grateful for it.”

It’s too easy to chalk it up to the luck of the Irish, though.

While Hannigan may be known for enriching work with compatriots such as Damien Rice and Glen Hansard, she also has performed with all-American working class heroes like Ray LaMontagne and Joe Henry.

Hannigan has enjoyed spending time abroad for work and play (she’ll appear with Dessner at the Eaux Claires festival in Wisconsin this month), and is planning to tour the United States some time after fulfilling a number of European dates to promote At Swim. While London “is an amazing place,” she doesn’t think it suits her quieter personality very well.

In the U.S., though, she does have a soft spot in her heart for New York, Denver (“one of my favorites”) and even Fargo, at least the one captured in the exceptional TV series on FX. About halfway through the seventh episode of Season 2, her haunting voice is featured during a scene that’s particularly painful to watch.

Reaching out unexpectedly, this time by phone, was Noah Hawley, the show’s writer-director. “Would you do me a version of ‘Danny Boy?’ “ he asked her.

Her imaginary trip to 1970s American pulp fiction was only temporary, though. Like the leading character in the 2009 novel and subsequent Oscar-nominated film Brooklyn, this real-life daydream believer is happy to “get whiplashed back” to the place she truly loves.

“That will always be home,” Hannigan said of Ireland, where her family still lives. “And I will be back there permanently very soon.”

Asked what she misses the most about it, even on a day when she jokingly considered London an “upgrade” after arriving from rainy Dublin, Hannigan said, “Well, I think it’s the people, really. And there’s just an ease to life. And it’s from where you’re from that just feels so natural.”

Paraphrasing late Irish poet Seamus Heaney, she offered, “It’s like a cure you don’t know is happening. And that’s how I feel about Dublin.”

Irish singer-songwriter Lisa Hannigan is back with her first full-length album in five years. (Photo by Rich Gilligan)

Born in Kilcloon in 1981, Hannigan grew up in the countryside near Dublin and quickly took a liking to Irish music, initially drawn to Luke Kelly, the voice of the Dubliners.

“I found it, as a child, very arresting to hear somebody sing so boldly, so strongly and plainly,” Hannigan said. “And I was always a big fan of his. And gosh, there’s so many incredible Irish singers.

“As a woman, obviously Sinead O’Connor when I was growing up was incredibly powerful as a performer and as a person. You know, the very strong Irish woman who didn’t apologize, which was very unusual to be allowed to be (during) that time.”

Hannigan spent summers in the West Cork fishing village of Baltimore, where her mother Frances had grown up. While becoming transfixed by singers, Lisa developed a “recurring fascination with the sea” that’s evident in many of her songs, both old (“Sea Song,” “A Sail”) and new (At Swim‘s “Undertow,” “Ora,” “We, The Drowned”).

She admits At Swim “is definitely a bit darker in subject matter” than her previous albums, but her bright, cheerful explanations prove that light does shine through the shadows.

“The song titles are quite depressing. It’s not as depressing as the song titles would suggest,” Hannigan said with a laugh, enjoying a chance to have a little fun at her own expense. “But there are more darker themes in the record, which is not a bad thing, I don’t think.”

On a record with lush instrumentation, Dessner not only produced but also makes significant contributions (piano, bass, Rhodes, guitars, drums, OP-1 synthesizer) along with a few more musicians. Of course, Hannigan’s incredible vocal range is the star of this show.

Yet while downplaying her own instrumental skills, she kids about her plucky banjo turn on “Undertow,” co-written with Iain Archer, by saying, “I tell you, I’m all about banjo solos. Every record I’ve got one in there.”

This time, though, on the final song they recorded for the album last year over a short period during the fall, Hannigan couldn’t resist picking up a “little strange banjo” sitting in Dessner’s studio “that was completely out of tune,” she said. “I don’t think anyone’s ever played it on anything. And I had this line in my head and ideas to work it out on the banjo. And it actually just worked so well,” producing an aggressive sound “that only the banjo can bring.”

The easiest lyrics came to Hannigan while she was at home folding clothes and listening to a “very visually arresting” piano backing Dessner emailed for “Ora,” one of three songs they co-wrote.

“It sounds to me very obviously like oars in a boat and it felt like the song was traversing in some sort of body of water and you could hear the push and the pull on the oars and the hauling then of the vessel,” she said.

The music video for “Ora,” the next planned project, sounds as intriguing as the song. Made with her brother Jamie Hannigan and Maeve Clancy, “this wonderful paper artist,” Hannigan described a “very old style of storytelling” called crankies as a scrolling cross between a giant comic strip and shadow puppet theater.



Whatever floats Hannigan’s boat seems filled with promise. While she might be all about aggressive banjo solos and adventurous videos (check out her paint-drenched Knots, left), any kind of seaworthy vessel must be a fixture, too.

Though her Dublin residence isn’t exactly near the sea, “I can sort of see it on a good day,” Hannigan joked. Getting her into the water is another matter.

“I’m a terrible swimmer. But I love boats. ... I mean I can swim but I prefer to be in a boat of some description,” she added with another laugh.

All joking aside, the award-winning songstress who provided the voice of a mermaid in the Oscar-nominated Irish animated film Song of the Sea is deeply serious about her water fixation.

“I think I sort of associate it with feeling free and feeling washed,” Hannigan said. “Whenever things are really bad, there’s something about the vastness and the power of the sea I think that puts you back into place. In the best possible sense. It always makes me feel better. And I think a lot of people feel the same way. I tend to go there in the best of times and the worst of times.”

Does it get any better than this? There’s a sumptuous-sounding record on the way, plans to add to her songbook, create more inventive music videos and make visits all over the world to locations ordinary and exotic before the everlasting return to her homeland.

“I am much happier” now, she exclaims, recalling those dark days in London, where writing songs was like “climbing a giant hill.”

After surviving that endurance test, Hannigan finally appears to be in shipshape.

i have no idea how it connect to Brexit Lisa Hannigan swims to safety with the help of musical penpal Aaron Dessner

Sandra Sperounes

Published on: August 3, 2016 | Last Updated: August 3, 2016 10:36 AM MDT

Irish folk musician Lisa Hannigan was at sea with her songwriting when an unexpected email led to her third and latest collection of tunes, At Swim.

She was working on the followup to her 2011 album, Passenger, but wasn’t happy with most of the results. At the same time, multi-instrumentalist and songwriter Aaron Dessner decided to email Hannigan.

“He wrote: ‘If you want to do some writing together or you need someone to produce your record, just let me know’,” she says. “It was such a lovely email, so generous and open and enthusiastic. It was so brilliant — and slightly ridiculous.”

She had never met him, but she is a fan of his band, The National. The Brooklyn indie-rockers have gone from musician’s musicians to arena and festival headliners over the span of six albums. (We’re still waiting for them to set foot in Alberta. AHEM.)

“He just kept sending me all these beautiful pieces of music and we corresponded over email for ages,” says Hannigan.

“He’d send me something and then I’d sing or mumble along to it into my phone and send it back to him. We’d do this back and forth until we finally met up in Denmark and Hudson (in New York). It was fun — my musical pen pal. I’m so indebted to him. If it wasn’t for his email, I’d probably still be trying to write a record, completely losing my mind.”

Instead, she’s on the verge of releasing the finest album of her career — and treating Edmonton to a sneak preview when she and Dessner perform on Friday’s mainstage at the Folk Fest.

At Swim, due Aug. 19 on ATO Records, is an endless, genre-spanning pool of haunting beauty — with waves of soft acoustic guitar strums, bittersweet melodies, and glints of ghostly banjos, strings and brass, anchored by Hannigan’s delicate voice. Prayer For The Dying is a torch-flavoured piano ballad. Barton verges on electro-pop with a light dusting of drum beats, while Snow twirls and curtsies like a medieval melody, perfect for an episode of Game of Thrones.

Hannigan, who splits her time between Dublin and London, recently fielded questions about her musical pen pal, gloomy songs, and the U.K.’s decision to to leave the European Union in June’s Brexit vote:

Q: What was it like when you and Aaron finally met and started working in the same room together?

A: It was great. It was really nice to meet him. I went to see him in Denmark; he was over with his family. We recorded for a couple of days. It wasn’t even a studio; we were just recording into his computer, really. It was nice to meet face to face. It’s fine over email, but you really need to meet eventually and have a beer and stuff.

Q: Had you two written most of the songs by then?

A: Not at that stage, but by the time we went to Hudson, all the songs — except Undertow — were written. We did a week of recording there, and then Aaron took all the raw materials and did his thing in his garage studio, adding textures and interesting sonic elements, like a trombone choir. He had a very strong idea of what he wanted the record to sound like, which was amazing. As he worked on it, he’d email me a slightly more fleshed-out version of a song — like “Here’s Fall with the violin” — so it was like Christmas. It was great to see them develop over time.

Q: Were there any songs that he really surprised you with?

A: Barton was one. It’s very different to my normal writing. I felt like it was the most unusual for me. I still hadn’t really got my head around it and then he sent it back with a fast and fizzy drum machine (programmed by The National’s Bryan Devendorf) and that one thing really made sense of the whole song. So that was a huge surprise me. It was like: “I get it, I get it!”

Q: What were your first few gigs like with Aaron?

A: We played a small charity gig in Hudson, then we did Boston Calling and the lineup was me, Sufjan Stevens and Sia. It was amazing, for me, but also was a real baptism of fire. So I kind of feel ready for anything. If I can play before Sufjan … that was the most stressful thing. But I’m really looking forward to the Edmonton festival. It’s so much fun! The last time I was there, in 2013, I had absolutely the best time.

Q: What makes it so magical?

A: I don’t know. I think Canadian people are super nice, which helps. Everyone is in good mood. And I think topographically — is that a word? — it’s so beautiful. You’ve got these lovely slopes, everyone can see, everyone’s lying on the grass. I mean, I saw Feist at a 45-degree angle — leaning back, having an amazing time. It’s a very relaxed, audience-friendly festival.

Q: On a completely different subject … where were you during the Brexit vote?

A: I was in Ireland and just agog at the omnishambles. It’s mad. I actually think the worst thing of all is that the whole level of political discourse has just gone through the floor — in terms of name-calling or not needing to have facts. There’s a lot of truthiness going around.

Q: The song titles on your new album sound like they could be applied to Brexit — like Fall, Prayer For The Dying, Funeral Suit or We, the Drowned.

A: You know, I was thinking about We, the Drowned in the middle of the omnishambles and I was thinking: “Gosh, this feels very prescient to this whole situation.” A lot of the songs have gloom and doom titles. Yeah, it’s weird. It’s only when I saw them altogether I went: “Oh dear.”

Q: What inspired We, the Drowned?

A: I was in the middle of writing a song about the subject and I was in a bookshop, flipping through titles, and I saw one called We, the Drowned — or maybe I read it as that — and I just went “Hmm.”

Q: What inspired Prayer For The Dying, if you don’t mind me asking?

A: It is exactly what it is, to be honest. A friend had a terminal illness for a long time and her and her husband were facing it together in the only way that you can — very bravely and very stoically. It was obviously so sad and I just wanted to write a tribute to their very long and happy marriage.

Q: Did she get to hear it?

A: No, she didn’t. But he did and that was nice.

Q: OK, let’s talk about Tender … it feels a little more upbeat.

A: Yeah, although … I’m going to qualify that with something depressing. It was meant as a love song and then my friend, Paul Murray, said: “Oh you know, tender is a loose tooth, askew at the roots.” So there’s some ambiguity to it. I thought: “Oh God.” I hope it’s not too depressing, the whole (album).