Glen Hansard was a friend, and a lovely man who loved to play, and lived for the moment he walked on stage. He may have seemed casual but, from his earliest days on Grafton Street, he had a burning desire to create and succeed.
I interviewed him twice with Markéta Irglová for Celtic Crush/SiriusXM, the first time while in the early blush of love, and the second when they hadn’t seen each other for some time. In both cases, he was professional and caring.
We were both members of what might loosely be called Frank Murray’s mafia. Frank, the powerful Dublin manager of The Pogues had an eye for talent, and had recently undertaken management of The Frames. Some years previously, he had signed Black 47 to his nascent record company, and brought us over from New York to do some Pogues dates, including a riotous Brixton Academy Christmas show.
I owed him one, and in his direct Dublin manner Frank wasn’t shy about calling it in. We were scheduled to do a sold out show at the 9:30 Club in DC. with already two opening acts aboard. When Frank called late asking that The Frames be added to the bill, I explained the difficulty in getting a third band on. Frank just said, “Do it, Larry,” and hung up.
I tried everything, but the promoter wouldn’t budge - he was paying for Black 47 and that was that. I called Frank in London and got his answering machine. I tried to explain as best I could. The next day setting off for DC, when I hadn’t heard from Frank, I assumed that, though pissed off, he got the picture.
The place was jammed and the 9:30 Club professionally got the two opening acts on and off the stage mucho pronto We were just about to go on when I saw Glen hurry through the stage door weighed down with guitar and amp. My heart nearly stopped. The Frames had driven down from NYC, got lost in DC traffic, as is often the case, but in their minds were on time, if barely.
What to do? I couldn’t face Frank Murray, so I alerted our Front of House sound man, and told Glen to get onstage immediately, plug into our amps, play 3 quick songs and get off without saying anything.
Then I hid in the dressing room, cracked open a beer and prayed. True to word, Glen went on and The Frames were great. But suddenly, the door opened, the promoter was whistling when he entered, but then exclaimed open-mouthed, “I just saw you onstage, you were great. What the fuck is going on?”
I tried to explain the Dublin mafia, The Frames, Frank Murray, et al, but it didn’t even make sense to me. However, The Frames third song was coming to an end. I caught their last minute onstage, then went out. Glen gave me a big smile and an even bigger wink as the crowd cheered this unknown band with no name.
You pulled it off, Glen, just like you pulled off life. From Grafton Street to DC, and so much further – you left them cheering in your wake.
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