"With the release of Passenger, Hannigan [signals] the arrival of a mature singer-songwriter possessed of an idiosyncratic yet thoroughly accessible gift ... Passenger proffers 10 by turns vigorous and softly spun essays on "journeys", both literal and metaphorical, couched in often lavish but oddly askew chamber arrangements that can strum up a storm or weave delicate filigrees while always circumventing Celtic or generic folk-rock cliché. At its core lies Hannigan's voice, a thing of velvety, husky seduction, able to invoke innocence and world-weariness with equal alacrity (sometimes both simultaneously), oscillating deliriously between kittenish, Beth Gibbons-like mewl, soaring, Emmylou Harris descant and introverted Joni Mitchell-ism, while always retaining her own, slightly puckish identity ... For all its deft arrangements and catchy chorus hook lines, Passenger feels unforced, spontaneous and timeless".