www.freetimes.com
Mark Woodlief
Glen Hansard , the leader of Dublin,
Ireland's, the Frames is a wind-him-up-and-watch-him-go sort who loves
a chat and carries forth passionately on a number of topics. He nearly
elicits a kind of weary, but fond "there he goes again" reaction as he
charges into conversations like an ocean-lover crashing into the surf on
a newly discovered coast. But for those just becoming acquainted with him,
talking with Hansard is a refreshing blast of energy. Even after 14 years
of being bounced around and screwed over by various major labels, the indefatigable
33-year-old still writes big, sincere, gorgeous songs. And he still believes
that "you can be a relatively decent human being without hurting people
and still be successful." He says, "Talking about yourself too much isn't
good for your health." Then he calls Willy Wonka "the fooking coolest dude
on earth." Hansard is talking about Willy Wonka because of the live version
of the Frames song, "Star Star," found on their latest disc, Set List .
On it, Hansard inserts a snippet of the tune "Pure Imagination," which
Gene Wilder sang in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory . One spontaneous
moment during a past Frames gig, Hansard sang the little lyric, "Come with
me, and you'll be..." and violinist Colm MacConIomaire echoed the line
on his instrument. A wee bit of Irish charm. And a glimpse into Hansard's
big heart. "Wonka represents everything you want to be," Hansard says over
the phone. "He represents the fooking magic, everything. I still get excited
when I see the movie." In his rapid-fire responses to questions, punctuated
by "y' knows" and lyrical Irish profanity, Hansard sounds like a late-night
pub philosopher no matter the time of day. He may be "for shite" or he
may be "a fooking poetic genius." The fact is the Frames' songs are so
good, it doesn't really matter. The Frames are to their Dublin neighbors
U2 what Murphy's is to Guinness. That is to say a delicious, robust, imported
change of pace that is becoming increasingly more popular. Hansard and
his mates recently won Best Band honors at the Meteor Awards, Ireland's
Grammys. But it's the little things that keep the Frames going. After a
near-collapse following their 1991 debut, Another Love Song , momentum
has been more consistent for the group since 1995's Fitzcarraldo . After
having the extreme displeasure of having famed producer Trevor Horn "rape"
(Hansard's term) their 1999 album Dance the Devil , the Frames recorded
For the Birds in Chicago with Steve Albini. The band found an unlikely
but ardent American supporter in the supposedly irascible studio owner/engineer.
"Steve was a huge breath of fresh air to us," Hansard says. "He was almost
like our American manager." Albini introduced the Frames to labels and
distributors such as Touch and Go, and encouraged the band to self-release
For the Birds . Albini even pushed his former staff engineer and building
manager, Rob Bochnik, out the door and into the role of Frames' lead guitarist.
"He told Rob if you don't go join this band, I'll fire you, 'cause they're
so good," Hansard says. With Bochnik's carte blanche privileges at EAR
studio, the Frames have recently renewed acquaintances with their Chicago
pals and put the final touches on their upcoming studio album for the Epitaph
imprint Anti. In their opening sets for singer-songwriter Damien Rice,
the Frames haven't played lengthy sets, but they're a band capable of special
things. After all, great things, such as pop songs, can happen in small
spans of time. Hansard seems to intuitively understand that better than
most people, and he makes the most of his time — on stage, in the studio
and in life. "Growing up, I remember one of my teachers giving us this
'What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up' exercise in school," he says.
"And I wrote down, 'I want to be somebody who asks but doesn't know.' Years
later, I was thinking that's kind of where Willy Wonka was coming from;
he's somebody of wonder who never has the answers. Sometimes the question
is a lot more attractive." |
