It feels strange to feel so deeply sad about the death of a celebrity – I didn’t know Glen Hansard personally, I never met him in passing, I never knew anyone who knew him. I was lucky enough to see him perform as The Swell Season with Markéta Irglova twice, at the height of their Once fame in 2007 and 2008, and that’s the closest I came to connecting with the man. But his music has kept me company for nearly half my life, through various heartbreaks, unexpected deaths of friends and family, moments of uncertainty and moments of joy. Listening to Glen’s music has always felt like returning to the comforting embrace of an old friend, and so I find myself crying as I read the touching tributes and watch snippets of his celebration of life pouring in from Ireland and abroad. From all accounts, Glen was uncommonly generous of spirit, with a huge heart and a genuine love for life. He’s left a resounding impact on everyone he reached with his music, myself included.
Once came into my life, as so many things do in our early adulthood, through a crush who recommended it shortly after it came out. Wanting to impress him, I caught the first showing I could at a small local theater, unsure of what to expect but excited to find a new way to connect with the guy I liked. What I found instead was a movie with songs, messages, and beauty that felt like they spoke to me directly, and I wove them deeply into the fabric of my identity. Glen’s raw emotion as he belts out his poignant, relatable, cathartic lyrics connected with something innate in my soul, and I immediately tried to learn the songs on my guitar and dragged everyone I could to see the movie with me again. I listened to the soundtrack on repeat as I drove to Laguna Beach in my little old BMW convertible with my guitar in the back seat to play on the shore at night, feeling like the most interesting, deep girl in the world. The number of times I’ve scream-sang “Say It To Me Now” on full blast has provided immeasurable catharsis throughout the years, and it’s still my go-to when I’m having an emotionally tumultuous day. I also discovered The Frames, Glen’s band he started when he was 20, and fell in love with every live performance I found on YouTube (especially this rendition of the Frames tune “Finally” – the way he pours every emotion into that beat-up old guitar gives me chills every time).
Glen’s music soundtracked my 20s, quietly witnessing my growth from an introverted teenager trying to find her way in the world to an adult who was at least a little wiser and a little stronger. His lyrics helped me understand who I wanted to be, what was most important to my soul, and how strength of character is often shaped in the depths of our emotions. As I process his sudden death and my unexpectedly strong feelings that came with it, I’ve realized I’m also mourning the loss of that version of me who first fell in love with Glen’s music – twenty-something, a little carefree but so uncertain, growing into a still-undefined version of herself, embarking on a new phase of life with so much hope for her future. Who I am now is built on the solid foundations I grew in my 20s, but she’s now older, wiser, and a little more hardened, for better or worse. With each evolution of who I am at my core, I know I’m not yet exactly who I want to be, but nor can I move backwards, re-inhabit the girl I once was. But don’t we all long for our youth at least a little bit as we get older and try to make sense of the crazy world we live in?
As I mourn the loss of such a profound songwriter and the versions of me that once were, I’ve been revisiting Glen’s solo albums and thinking about how hope remains a constant theme woven through his lyrics. Hope for change, hope for love, hope for a better version of the world achieved only through supporting each other as humans first and foremost. That hope and his depth of soul shines through in his lyrics, and I’m grateful for those he left us with, and I know I’ll continue my own evolution with his music by my side. In particular, I keep returning to “Song of Good Hope” from 2012’s Rhythm and Repose, performed at his funeral today by Glen’s longtime friends and musical partners, Markéta Irglova and Eddie Vedder. It’s a song that feels almost like it was written for this moment, reminding us there’s still hope after death, and that we can find that hope through letting ourselves feel the ache and supporting each other through the changing tides. And through it all, Glen’s music will still be here for us, guiding us through uncertainty with a gentle guitar melody and powerful voice, ready to accompany us into the next chapter, whatever that may be.
So thank you, Glen, for all that you’ve been and all that you’ve left here with us. May good hope walk with you through the next phase of your own spiritual journey, and may you rest in peace.
“If we’re gonna make it
Cross this river alive
You need to think like a boat
And go with the tide
And I know where you’ve been
Has really left you in doubt
Of ever finding a harbour
Of figuring this out
And you’re gonna need all the help you can get
So lift up your arms now, and reach for it
And reach for it
And take your time babe
It’s not as bad as it seems
You’ll be fine babe
It’s just some rivers and streams
In between you and where you want to be
Watch the signs now
You’ll know what they mean
You’ll be fine now
Just stay close to me
And may good hope walk with you through everything
Take your time babe
It’s not as bad as it seems
You’ll be fine babe
It’s just some rivers and streams
In between you and where you want to be
And watch the signs now
You’ll know what they mean
You’ll be fine now
Just stay close to me
And may good hope walk with you through everything
May the song of good hope walk with you through everything”
Glen Hansard
1970-2026
Art with an Opinion 