Hansard returns to his own work with acoustic folky FORGIVE TO FORGET fifth, all That Was EAST…
OVERVIEW
Hansard was first a member for both The Frames and the Swell Season before he dove out on his own in 2012 with 70’s folk-inspired debut Rhythm and Repose.
It’s felt like a lifetime since Hansard’s last solo project came into fruition. This Wild Willing in 2019 was a token of appreciation to his ever-growing posse of fans and unexpected pub-goers; a smorgasbord of shanties seemingly only fitting for the lonesome travelling of seamen. Amongst a busy schedule of keeping himself busy with fellow musicians and friends, Hansard has had little time to sit down and focus on his work. Seeing himself as a live performer first and foremost, his new material often is deliberated in front of a live audience; a scribbling of scrupulous jottings in-between rapturous applause.
His fifth – and first solo album in 5 years – All That Was East… has been transpired from the very same. In a back-room assembly with his Frames bandmates, a dozen ideas are waded through over the course of five Tuesdays. It’s possibly what makes Hansard’s discography so gripping; so wrought with emotion keeping his listeners on tender-hooks. Anything written has been played in front of a crowd first. So anything that doesn’t vaguely resemble this, is more likely scrapped. This makes up for a deeply seasoned album; devoid of any spirit or personality. This album demonstrates the Oscar-winning singer-songwriter has both a hero to indie folk but to an established artist personifying a rawness to both feasts of folk and modern rock.
SONG-TO-SONG
Pally with the Dressner twins (The National), Hansard’s music borders on the yearning whims of the soft and slow alternative to the smoky undertones of rich Earthy folk. It’s whimsical when it wants to be, and serious when it needs to be.
No Hansard project should start off with something other than The Feast of St. John. A smooth-sailing mellow of a tune; it’s proper folky and attuned to Hansard’s sensibility when it comes to writing music. “See the low fires burning at the Feast of St John / See the heroes returning, all but one..” No album is met with acoustic folk, and so you needn’t go further than There’s No Mountain; a campfire sing-a-long as you watch the fire embers trail up towards to the moon. Between Us There is Music is reminiscent of Ben Howard, traded off with a darting dash of string accompaniment that adds layers upon layers of padded blankets. Bearing Witness is more the jumped-up bluesy number on the record as Hansard contemplates on the quandaries you face – “And it’s not the road less taken / But how you choose to live” – told through almost as a wading warning. Almost like Glen has weathered the exact same storm already.
It’s a compulsion to listen to Glen when you’re perusing through Irish folk. A poetically magic singer-songwriter founder of Once’s Falling Slowly to now, a new record of equal delight.
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