Sometimes a song seems so fragile that you almost daren't breathe whilst listening, for fear of damaging the delicacy of the moment somehow. The Piano is one of those strange aural experiences.
This is Polly at her tenderest and most open. Vocals border on a breathless whisper at times, with the music having an almost medieval, folk-esque quality. Still obviously as mad as a sack of drunken badgers, this version of PJ makes you want to treat her with tender reverence rather than just run away though.
There is a truly otherworldly nature to The Piano, almost as if one were listening through a black hole to the music of the future. It's bizarrely short length adds to this feeling too. Christmas No.1 please.