Glen Hansard, 1970-2026

I was hiking this morning in a nature preserve on the shores of Lake Huron, got back to my car and when I picked up my phone to check if the coffee place was open today (it was not) I saw an email from someone with a subject line that made it clear someone had died.

I opened it expecting to find out that one of their parents had passed. Instead, the email was talking about Glen Hansard. I did a web search and my worst fears were confirmed. I yelled FUCK multiple times inside my car in a trailhead parking lot, grateful I was the only one there.

I am up north where I am trying very hard to not be online but his death is hitting hard, probably because he was one of the good lights on this earth and we keep losing those while the malevolent forces of evil continue to prosper.

Last summer he was in town with Marketa Irglova and holding tickets to that show meant I had to miss Yo La Tengo at Concert of Colors (YLT do not come here often) but I also reminded myself that every time I see Glen Hansard I am sorry I do not go more often so I went. The show was just gorgeous, a balm for anything you were carrying, and we are all carrying so much these days. He could make any room seem small and personal.

Every time I saw him I vowed I would not miss him the next time, which is why I was there this particular time, the time before being the rehearsal for the Patti Smith tribute show at Carnegie Hall and then at the tribute proper. He was one of the two artists whose Patti song I correctly chose in advance. It was "Beneath the Southern Cross" both because I knew it was perfect for him because of its poetry and its power and because he was the only one in that lineup that could have taken it on.

"Southern Cross" isn't just a song, it is one of those Patti songs that is different every time she plays it, it raises energy, it creates a living organism. You can't not agree to take on that obligation if you as a performer decide to attempt it. It's not even "you can't half-ass it" – "Southern Cross" is a commitment, it is a promise, it is an oath. There was no doubt in my mind that Glen Hansard would be able to meet that challenge, and he did.

My notes from the rehearsal just read "Soul of a poet knows soul of a poet." But it was more than that. We know what kind of music fan he was – if you haven't seen his story about meeting Van Morrison, please rectify that now – and so I knew that he knew what he had taken on, that he knew full well the extent of the responsibility he had agreed to assume by choosing this one.

And my other immediate Glen Hansard memory is when he joined Bruce Springsteen onstage in Kilkenny in 2013 for "Drive All Night."

We can't see everything and everyone we want to see and I like to think I usually adhere to my "always go to the show" adage, but these days I sometimes interrogate myself on whether it is truly required, if I have seen enough, if I have it in me to deal with talking people or three million phones in my face all night, blocking my view. But then things like this happen, and I am glad I was there, that I don't have to sit here thinking "I could have gone to that show but I didn't, for reasons that seemed important or mature at the time."

My heart goes out to the people who truly loved this man and his music and saw him when he was still playing Piano's on the Lower East Side. All those years of watching video from the Dublin Christmas busk not just hoping Bono shows his face but mostly enjoying watching Glen Hansard in his element.

Cross over, Glen. May your journey thrive.