I don't know whether the reason I find it extremely hard to listen to this -



- but find it much easier to listen to this -



- is to do with the former being much more saccharine and seductive and adolescently emotional than the latter, or whether it's because my response to my what-for-lack-of-a-better-term-I'll-call-romantic loneliness for the last few years has been to close off my heart to the sensuous and delicate and personal love of the former. Listening to it I don't know if the revulsion I feel is from Hannigan's faux-cracked voice or my fear that it's cracking me. I'm terrified that if I ever somehow find myself where I can't retreat scared from the kind of emotion of the Hannigan, emotion unsoftened by layers of intellect (I'm good at intellect!) and self-awareness and tradition, I will fall into a sea of uncomprehending tears. And then afterwards, if the tears are cathartic and whoever made me fall apart is still there when I surface, I'll be able to listen to Hannigan's gentle melodies with ease and pleasure.

Or maybe the Hannigan really just is trite and adolescent, and if I ever find myself in a loving relationship again I'll find Hannigan just as painful. Fucked if I know.