My golden memories of Glen Hansard’s Cork gigs

I lived in Cork city for almost a decade in the early 2000s, and was a feature writer with the then Evening Echo for four years.

During that time, I met Glen a few times and also interviewed him. Given my love for music, a passion that led to me forging a career in music myself, Glen and I had many mutual friends and acquaintances.

I can’t say I ever knew him as a friend, but he certainly was a respected and friendly acquaintance and contact, and always easy to get hold of and talk to; he gave me his mobile number and he was always happy to give his time and a comment whenever I called.

After the news of his tragic death, aged 56, I’d like to share a few treasured memories which I feel reflect who he was for me.

First, he was the most generous musician and performer I ever came across, certainly of anyone famous. Generous in terms of the time he gave to fans, and of the time and opportunity he gave to other musicians. And, of course, to me as a member of the press. I can only imagine he was the same to all my colleagues.

A great example of this generosity was the time I saw him perform at the Everyman Theatre. When the time came for him to take a break, he announced that he would be back in 15 minutes but was leaving his guitar on the stage, and anyone who wanted to was welcome to come up and play their own songs.

To this day, I have no idea how, but that audience was full of Cork singers and songwriters and no-one took him up on his offer. 

We all kind of looked around at each other and wondered who would do it. There were plenty of people mouthing encouragement to others to take up the opportunity, including myself to one or two of my friends, but no-one did.

I remember his back-stages were virtual open houses. When I went to see him at Whelan’s in Dublin one year, we’d spoken briefly on the phone beforehand and he invited me back-stage to come and say hello. When I got there, it felt like the whole of Whelan’s were in there. He’d basically turned it into one big house party.

We really didn’t get to talk much that night, but he did at least give me an enthusiastic welcome before disappearing into the throng. It was a sign of how accessible he liked to make himself. And on that note, I always got the feeling that he saw himself as just a normal person and never really the famous Glen Hansard that he was.

Perhaps reflecting that, there was once a low key festival held on an island somewhere off Cork - I can’t begin to remember which. But I do remember it was reached by a tiny boat. I mean almost a rowboat with an engine.

The line-up was mostly local singer/songwriters from Cork. I knew most of them well, many being friends as I was very active on that scene myself.

We were all amazed when Glen appeared as a performer, even though we knew he had been invited. But still, to actually turn up.

When the PA or monitor on stage began to break down during his set, he abandoned thoughts of playing on stage and just walked out into the crowd. We were all sitting down on the grass and he just played while walking among us.

Oh, and there was an amazing moment as he was singing Revelate when he changed the lyric to: “Sometimes I want to kick the f**k out of this PA!” But even while doing that, his innate good-naturedness never left him. It was just a loud shouty-out part of the song and he used the situation to amazing effect.

It’s one of my great musical memories that I was literally cross-legged at his feet as he played and sang in that field on that deep and warm summer night. I can still see him now, me looking up at this incredible performer who was at the same time both one of us and already a true legend.

With his tragic passing, this has become an even more treasured memory and I think, in time, that feeling will only grow. As I wrote that last sentence, I felt the tears come.

Finally, one of the stories I have most often told friends about Glen Hansard down the years. I had seen him playing at the Marquee in Cork, supported by Damien Rice. Afterwards, I walked down to The Lobby where Mundy was playing that night. Of course, the place was packed, given all the music fans streaming out of the Marquee, but I was able to squeeze in at the back.

Then, up the stairs, fresh from the show, I saw Glen Hansard and Damien Rice. Seeing them, Mundy invited them to the stage and, as the crowd parted, I was able to slip in behind them and get all the way to the front.

The three of them now started playing towards the window, and so to the crowd gathered outside who were unable to get in,

When they finished in The Lobby, I was right next to them as one of them, I can’t remember which, suggested they go outside and play to the people there. So, all three of them did just that.

This must also be one of the greatest memories for anyone who was there that night, surely even for the performers, including Damien Rice’s musical partner, Lisa Hannigan, who joined in with them, but only from across the road as she remained mingling with the fans.

During all of this, a Garda car came along, slowed down to look, saw and understood what was going on, and silently slipped away.

Rest in peace, Glen.