I was sad to hear about Glen Hansard’s death a couple of weeks ago. I saw The Frames a surprising number of times for someone who never went to see The Frames. They seemed to be on so many bills that I found myself at but I wasn’t really a fan, largely pledging my early 90s Irish band fan energy to Something Happens, hoping that their third album would finally make them massive and everyone would acknowledge how cool my vintage Happens T-shirt was.
On the other hand, a friend of mine was a massive fan and she was in tears at the news, and not long after it was clear that he was out playing music , enjoying his vocation just a few hours before his accident.. It wasn't a familiar story of a star in declining health whose name on a radio news headline just sparks dread like a Van de Graaf generator, but not actual surprise. All ended suddenly, the indifference of fate can only seem cruel to the rest of us.
It made me think about the uncertainty of life, even for people in the full of their health. The importance of a life with a minimum of regrets and the general wisdom has it you’ll regret not doing things you should have more often than regretting doing things you shouldn’t have. I’m not entirely sure about that, but I do have a bit of a bit of regret related to Glen Hansard.
I never met him, but I did stand beside him once at a Phil Lynott memorial concert. January 4th, 1992. I’m not sure if I could have named any Frames songs, but I knew he was the guy from the Commitments that had his own band called The Frames. At the time, I was wondering should I speak to him or just let him enjoy the show as a punter like myself.
I left him to it.
In someways, the more respectful of his personal time off duty. And sometimes I wonder if I should have said hello to him...but what would I have said anyway? I’d probably have wished him luck with his band but I doubt they needed my best wishes to get them to the top..