The first time I heard Lissie Maurus I was interning at Sony Music in Los Angeles. Slipping her EP into my computer, I instantly could sense she was someone special. Ever since, I've been spreading her melodic voice and raw optimism to all those with a keen appreciation for music. Friday night, Lissie played a quaint and vibrantly captivating set at Paris's intimate La Maroquinerie a short walk from P�re Lachaise, where The Door's front man, Jim Morrison is buried. The audience was enthralled by her every move, striking primal screams, and ingenious auditory articulations for the entirety of her set.

Opening with "Wedding Bells" and "Worried About," Lissie Maurus from Rock Island, Illinois, demonstrated her formidable folk roots with seasoned musical range and melodic discipline. Later, through enchanting ballads like "Record Collector," her inspiring voice resembled a variety of rock feminique with tastes of Janis, Sheryl, Stevie, and Sarah. And as she played, her eyes seemed to hold the mysteries of a 60's flower child and her hands detained the strength of a great fighter. "I'm tired of saying/That I won't get lost ever again/Who knows, maybe I will/And everywhere I go/There I'll be/With a rust old rake in a pile of leaves/Oh my, truly daunting." She's simple and sweet yet powerfully endearing with an acutely spirited lyrical wisdom far beyond her 28 years. She's haunting and serene, strong yet delicate, a beautiful contradiction who has proven to inhibit a musical realm far from the female singer-songwriter clich�.

Throughout commanding numbers like "Little Lovin" and "When I'm Alone," her overarching passion set the crowd into a roaring sphere of adoration for the liberated blonde damsel. Intrigued by her every word, her faithful observers looked as if they were falling in love with her honest attempts at speaking French. She also scattered the set with heartfelt anecdotes of her "badass" tendencies in high school, heartbreak, and the trials of moving to Hollywood.