|
The first time I ever heard Glen Hansard’s voice was in 2003. I was hosting my CKUW radio show alone that day — my co-host Barb Stewart was away for some reason — and I was scrambling a bit to fill the time.
I pulled a CD off the shelf of new releases in the studio, For the Birds by the Frames. The Irish band’s fourth studio album had come out in 2001 but it had just arrived at the station because they would be opening for Calexico at the West End Cultural Centre later that month.
Based on title alone, I played What Happens When the Heart Just Stops and I was — well, stricken feels like a good word. The recording was spare (the album was recorded by Steve Albini) and Hansard’s voice, high, warm and liquid, but with a bit of a burr, perfectly imperfect, was the focal point.
Then the muted horns came in, building up into a maelstrom of sound (maybe nobody does this kind of quiet-loud thing better than the Frames) and I was officially smitten.
Glen Hansard in 2014 (Steve C. Mitchell / Invision / The Associated Press files)
I’m listening to it right now and it still gives me goosebumps, even though I’ve probably heard it hundreds of times since then.
I was lucky enough to see the Frames three times — at that WECC show, and then twice at South by Southwest music festival in Austin, Texas — and Hansard twice, once as part of the duo Swell Season at the Winnipeg Folk Festival in 2010 and once solo with a full band at First Avenue in Minneapolis.
The latter two shows came after he’d reached wider recognition as the star of Once, the musical romance written and directed by his former Frames bandmate John Carney.
He and his co-star/co-songwriter Marketa Irglova won an Oscar for Best Original Song for Falling Slowly, but my favourite song in the film — which you can and should rent on Apple or Prime — is an acoustic solo version of Say It To Me Now.
It’s originally featured on the Frames’ 1996 album Fitzcarraldo, here played on Hansard’s beat-up Takamine NP15, nicknamed “The Horse,” which had holes worn through the cedar from his aggressive playing style.
The film version is the most familiar one, but I also like this messier Cardinal Sessions rendition, broken strings and all.
Advertisement
I was on the treadmill at the gym on Wednesday morning when I found out Hansard had died in a motorcycle accident at age 56.
It took a minute for it to sink in — a picture of him was posted on the Instagram account of Australian musician Warren Ellis, and I couldn’t figure out why.
When it became clear, I burst into tears, maybe partly because he was just a year older than me and leaves behind a three-year-old son, but mostly because his music feels like a part of me; if I had a tally of the songs I’ve listened to most in my life, his would be in the top 10.
And I’m not alone — I don’t think I can recall a more abundant outpouring of grief and remembrance from fellow artists and fans on social media for someone who merited just a 12-inch obituary from The Associated Press (that’s about 420 words). From all accounts he was a lovely person as well as a brilliant songwriter.
Hansard got his start as a busker — something he never entirely gave up — so he knew his way around a cover. Here he is doing Astral Weeks by Van Morrison, an idol whom I doubt he expected would outlive him.
I’ll be off on vacation next week, but will return to your inboxes on Aug. 14.
|
