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.
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.
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. 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.
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.
