Exactly two years to the day, Glen Hansard returns to the lovingly restored Grand Opera House, for a night of rare quality, and camaraderie of spirit that is the essence of his live performances. He spoke of learning from the masters tonight. Of Fergus O’Farrell, and watching his skills and interaction with wood and steel as he made his instrument sing. Of a night spent trading songs with Van Morrison.
This student long ago became a supreme master in his own right.
There are many great artists who can hold an audience transfixed with the quality of their singing and writing as Glen Hansard does. But few can transform the audience of a 1,000 seated auditorium and make them feel they are sitting in the artist’s front room.
There is a rare intimacy and communion connecting artist and audience. That cosy feeling was enhanced with the stage setting; a few table lamps lent a warm glow to proceedings, and two paintings picked up on a recent sojourn to Paris, again lent that ‘living room’ vibe. Two hours and some flashed by in the blink of an eye.
It’s a rich mixture of his own compositions, solo, and with The Frames and The Swell Season, traditional songs, and some startling covers, including two by the aforementioned and much missed, Fergus O’Farrell.
‘Revelate’ is a startling song, whether with a full band or stripped back as it appeared tonight. ‘I’ll Be You, Be Me’, I think actually benefited from its acoustic treatment while ‘Fool’s Game’ is just an exquisite song in any setting. ‘My Little Ruin’, written about a friend with a penchant for screwing up, was as on point as ever.
‘Falling Slowly’ remains one of the greatest songs freed to the air, and is delivered with a quiet and restrained passion. ‘Bird Of Sorrow’ is a balm to the soul of anyone who has lost a loved one and never feels to really tug the heartstrings.
Tethered to a bird of sorrow, a voice that’s buried in the hollow. You’ve given over to self-deceiving. You’re prostrate bowed, but not believing. You’ve squandered more than you could borrow and you bet your joys on all tomorrows, for the hope of some returning while everything around you’s burning. Well, I’m not leaving you here. I’m not leaving you here. I’m not leaving.
That final howl of desolation. Of defiance and love. A tear to a stone, I think is the expression. Unreal.
Glen has long been a stalwart supporter of people who are homeless, and the dispossessed, and he gave a heartfelt shout out to efforts of The People’s Kitchen in Belfast who work alongside those on the street, and those in need. He suggested he had heard of a possible “Belfast Busk” similar to the one he had started 10 years ago on Grafton Street, Dublin, to support their ongoing work. Wouldn’t that be a great thing?
On top of his musical talents, Hansard is a great raconteur and has the makings of a great stand-up.
The story of letters back and forward to a soldier had everyone with hankies at the ready, and totally unprepared for the payoff. I’ll not spoil the ending, it needs to be heard as Glen delivers it. Live.
So much to enjoy! From the young be-capped Dublin lads singing with Glen (including a fine rendition of ‘The Auld Triangle’, which young Felix had written an extra verse too, to the young female friend/artist who bolted from mid stalls to climb the stage and harmonise, this was class fare.
The final song of the evening was ‘Passing Through’, a reminder we are here but for a short time, and to be the best we can be to each other. Very apt. For everyone felt better for seeing a true Irish great at the peak of his considerable powers tonight.
Shows this great don’t come around too often. You should ensure you are there the next time the master passes through.