The Irish Times view on Glen Hansard: a singular, generous artist

From Ballymun to the Academy awards, he carried the same conviction

Glen Hansard with a Home Sweet Home cup in 2017 during "Songs & Words A Home for All" a performance protest to end Homelessness on Kildare Street , Dublin.
Photo: Gareth Chaney Collins
Glen Hansard with a Home Sweet Home cup in 2017 during "Songs & Words A Home for All" a performance protest to end Homelessness on Kildare Street , Dublin. Photo: Gareth Chaney Collins

The tragic and untimely death of Glen Hansard in the early hours of Wednesday morning has robbed Ireland of one of its most generous and singular artistic voices. Singer, songwriter, actor, and activist, he touched the lives of thousands across a career that spanned almost four music-infused decades. The tributes that have already poured in share common themes. Here was a restlessly inventive spirit who never mistook success for arrival, and who moved between busking pitch, recording studio, film set, and protest march as though they were all the same thing.

Most people first encountered him as Outspan Foster, the wry young guitarist in The Commitments. That film, a rare large-scale celebration of working-class Dublin on the eve of the Celtic Tiger, made his face known around the world almost before his music did. But acting was never the ambition. He had formed The Frames the year before, and it was there, and in the songs to come, that his true vocation lay.

His music fused American folk and blues with Irish idioms, a sound forged on the streets of Dublin and deepened in his Oscar-winning partnership with Markéta Irglová. That 2008 win for Falling Slowly”, from Once, announced to the world what audiences at home already knew. It also gave us the image of Hansard urging a global audience to make art, a plea that doubled as a life’s manifesto.

Yet his gifts were never only his own. He gave away guitars and studio time and stages, pulling younger musicians up alongside him. He guarded the songs of earlier generations, refusing to let good work be forgotten. And he turned his fame outward, most memorably through the annual Christmas Eve busk on Grafton Street for the homeless, and through his presence at Apollo House and countless other protests.

Above all, he was a deeply decent man, rooted in the life of his native city and unspoiled by the acclaim it brought him. From Ballymun to the Academy stage, he carried the same conviction that community matters and art belongs to everyone.