LIVE REVIEW: Glen Hansard, Dr Martin Shaw, Union Chapel, London, 06/04/2024
Photo Credit: Kevin O’Sullivan
Whether you know him as the frontman of The Frames, for his appearance in The Commitments, or as one half of The Swell Season; whether it’s from his Oscar-winning film ‘Once’ or the corresponding, globe-spanning, Tony, Grammy, and Laurence Olivier award winning musical of the same name; maybe you know him from his own decorated solo work, his appearances with bona fide legends Bruce Springsteen or Eddie Vedder, or more recently playing A Fairytale Of New York at Shane MacGowan’s funeral; whatever the case is, it’s undeniable that Glen Hansard’s had one hell of a musical career. He’s even been on a stamp! Getting to see him up close and personal at the iconic, Islington-based Union Chapel, then, was nothing short of divine.
But first. “Music and stories have always been entwined together, so let’s see where this takes us”. Dr. Martin Shaw, an award-winning author, mythologist, and teacher, was as unique and engrossing a support as you could ask for, particularly for a singer-songwriter as acclaimed as Glen Hansard — and his set was as distinctive, and as special, as you’d expect. Delivered by Shaw’s chameleon of an orator, juggling the hats of a campfire-bard, stand-up comedian, impressionist, pantomimist, and archivist, The Legend of the Fire Bird managed to blend musicality and mysticism into the 20-minute fable; pop-culture references and colloquialism went hand-in-hand with the drum beats, religious chants and epithets that made up the classic sounding allegory. As entertaining as he was engrossing, the long-time friend of Glen’s, joining him on the road as his only support of the evening, gave his friend a fantastic start — or, technically, Glen gave it to him; ‘only’ support isn’t strictly true. Does a support count if it’s the same as the main act? Shaw’s set was technically preceded by the surprise appearance of Glen, an acoustic rendition of Say It To Me Now, and a heartfelt story about meeting Shaw while playing in Newcastle in 1993 with The Frames; as good an introduction anyone could ever ask for. A beautifully, wholesomely strange dichotomy of support, mutual love, and camaraderie; both men seemed to tee each other up to higher and higher heights, and only excelled the more. 8/10
There’s something deeply transformative about seeing Glen Hansard. His live shows are at once heartbreaking, bewitching, and almost unsettling; it doesn’t feel human, how in his hands the expansive becomes so intimate, or the close seems so abyssal. Emerging back on stage to an almost dangerously enthusiastic audience and taking to the piano for opener The Storm, It’s Coming, even those who’d seen him before were unprepared for just how good a night they’d strapped in for.
A bushy white beard gave Hansard the look of a Santa on his Easter holidays, with that same innate approachability, while those close enough to the stage were able to make out the emotional depth of his eyes, the strained veins popping in his neck during some of the more passionate tracks; the dichotomy felt almost like an optical illusion, as he flitted around the stage, piano tracks and guitars galore. The fact that the night was set in a church seemed almost ironic, his vocals coalescing in the rafters and echoing around the room as if by Heavenly decree. Newer tracks, such as the emotional Between Us There Is Music or the hopeful There’s No Mountain, both from the recently released album All That Was East Is West Of Me Now, went hand in hand with powerfully-revamped old favourites, When Your Mind’s Made Up and This Gift in particular climaxing with explosive, rage-tinged strumming from the modern troubadour. Ghost seemed haunting in the holy space, complete with mysteriously slamming doors and knowing looks from the stage; the venom-soaked, vitriol-fuelled Don’t Settle washed from a newly equipped electric guitar, rather than the studio version’s piano, before slamming to a sudden halt; there was even a bizarre rendition of The Frames’ Star Star, due to its inclusion of a tag taken from Willy Wonka’s Pure Imagination.
There were some completely new songs, too. The unreleased Stuck in Reverse, debuted by Glen back in July last year while celebrating The Swell Season with Markéta Irglovà, was met with raucous cheers, as much as anything at the news that more The Swell Season was on its way; the painfully emotional Take Heart, inspired by the impossibly vile invasion of Ukraine — that’s somehow still going on — which featured the unexpected, and beautiful, inclusion of Ukrainian refugees placed in the crowd; and, although feeling understated, the perhaps even more significant lyrical change of an extra verse added to Down On Our Knees only enhanced the inherently political song’s already powerful message by calling out the atrocities occurring in Gaza that our own government are either too afraid or too greedy to denounce themselves. “Gaza’s burning, Israeli’s bombs are [not for turning?] / When reason fails, might and murder must prevail”, he sang — as verses about topics as monumental or cataclysmal as The Four Horsemen, or Roe Vs Wade, were left seeming somehow insignificant.
Despite all that though, there was one still one moment to the night that shone above it all. Coming back onto the stage after the Oscar-winning, Markéta-dedicated Falling Slowly, the crowd was told about a new friend about to join Glen on the stage. Cue stunned cheering as Kelly Jones from Stereophonics joined Glen and the also re-emerged Shaw on the pulpit for Maybe Tomorrow. Although unrehearsed, with Jones only having met Glen at Roger Daltrey’s Teenage Cancer Trust gig a few weeks prior, hearing Jones’ signature husky voice play an acoustic version of one of Stereophonics’ biggest hits, with the legendary Glen Hansard on guitar and backing vocals, in the euphonious, reverential, and unparalleled acoustics of Union Chapel, was nothing short of miraculous. Surprise guests are always amazing, but there are always inklings; it’s the truly unexpected that leave a crowd shaking in wonder. There’s no question that that’s how Jones’ brilliant yet sadly brief appearance left the Islington audience on that Saturday.
Culminating in a fully unplugged rendition of Interference’s Gold, Glen seeming to tower over the front row by way of his sheer presence, Glen’s set was simply superb. His unique blend of passionate, emotionally straining roars; Cohen-esque, spoken word crooning; beautifully soft, entrancing warbling; and entertaining, wholesome personal stories, along with recognisable covers and two stunning surprises, gave the hundreds of fans lucky enough to cram into the church one hell of a night. A phenomenal set from a phenomenal showman. You really couldn’t ask for more. 10/10
Written By: James O’Sullivan
