I have to break away briefly again from the long queue of overdue posts on climate, etc., to talk music.
Like countless other songwriters and lovers of from-the-heart music, I was horrified and remain haunted by Glen Hansard’s sudden death alone on his motorcycle early Wednesday morning in Dublin after singing with others at a regular session at the Wren’s Nest.
Hansard, who cut his teeth in his early teens as a busker in Dublin before vaulting to fame, embodied an absolutely stunning mix of emotional singing style, writing brilliance, musicianship and a seemingly boundless capacity for generosity and musical community. In that communitarian spirit, he absolutely embodied the idea that “life is a band.”
It was thrilling, even through a computer screen, to see hundreds of his friends, Dublin buskers and other singers gather Thurday night to honor him in song close to the Gaiety Theatre. As RTE reported, that’s where Hansard held his traditional Christmas Eve charity busks including friends like U2.
To understand the quality of his writing and performing, take time and listen to this busking version of “Her Mercy” from a few years back as the Oscar winner hung out in Noto, Sicily, largely unnoticed.
Then listen to this year’s astounding ensemble production captured live at Funkhaus in Berlin. (Watch it all!)
Each version is magnificent in its own way.
Damn…. Here’s to good souls taken far too soon.
I have to add that I hate motorcycles.
My grandparents on both sides were involved in accidents in which a motoryclist died (they were not at fault).
My father told us of the day he watched a motorcycle pull out to pass a truck just as the truck started to turn left. My dad ended up pulling the rider out from under the truck. The rider was dead at the scene.
My former wife was driving in downtown Los Angeles when we lived there in the mid 1980s and saw a head-on crash of a motorocycle and car. She’s an artist and tried to exorcise the incident by painting it - a frail figure flying through the sky.
I understand the feeling of freedom and connection to the road and even the thrill of speed. A high school friend, David Westover, took took me up to 125 miles per hour in his souped-up sedan around 1973 on an unopened stretch of new highway.
But he lost a leg in a motorcycle crash years later. He passed soon after that, with drugs in the mix.
Stay safe and make music.
Several friends posted some pretty stark memories about motorcycles on my Facebook entry about this article and I’m reproducing them here.
When I was a little kid, under 10, my Mom was driving me to a friend’s house where she had to make a left turn. She had her blinkers on and started the left, when a motorcycle tried to pass (he was a volunteer fireman, on the way to a fire, but no blue light). He hit the side of our car as it was turning and went flying. He did not die, but was seriously injured. My Mom suffered emotionally. My only takeaway from the accident is not wanting to ever listen to the song that was on the radio when it happened -- the original McArthur Park.
My brother was a hooligan and part of a motorcycle gang. They would drive in packs and speed often. Ironically, he did not cause the accident that resulted in his leg being amputated. It was caused by a drunk driver exiting a strip club and running directly into my brother’s motorcycle. The irony is that when my father brought my brother’s motorcycle helmet home from the hospital, there was a hole in it, from where his head hit the pavement, right above a sticker that read “Helmet laws suck!”
While I have enjoyed riding on the back of a motorcycle, especially on Rte 218 from Cornwall to West Point, I have grown to hate them for their noise and vulnerability. Also, because the sound of their loud mufflers reminds me of when the Cycle Lords of Northern New Jersey would be gunning up my block, meaning that a bunch of them were about to enter my home with my brother.
This 1915 Harley poster shows how long the industry has sold the message that freedom is safe. Even today, nearly every commercial for motorcycles or motorcycle insurance follows this approach: Two or three riders safely enjoy a sunny day on an empty two-lane road through a desert or some gently rolling hills. In this marketing fantasy world, there are no potholes, oil spots, drunk drivers, 18-wheelers, left-turning buses, visual obstructions, stoplights, road-ragers, or, to complete the hazards, bands of crotch rockets racing through heavy traffic at 140 mph.
I almost died on a motorcycle, holding onto the guy who suddenly lost control--we were thrown across the lanes on the Verizano bridge, the two of us kidding and the bike, luckily there was no one behind us. then, I became a feminist...and no longer hold onto the waist of a motorcycle man.
Jimmy Buff (Radio Kingston):
I gave up my motorcycle after dumping in it Central Park on an oily road after the rain. Figured I’d beaten the odds and moved on. Or so I thought. The lingering feeling of the freedom riding gives never fully left. Until, that is, our son was born and the desire left fully.
Hansard leaves behind a 3 year old son.
You can be the best rider in the world and there are still so many ways to get serioulsy messed up on a motorcycle. Pothole. Debris in road. Animals. A friend hit a bear on a bike and while laying there with a broken leg was wondering if the bear, seemingly less injured than him, was going to exact retribution to the collision.
Hell, I don’t even ride bicycles on roads anymore. An avid cyclist, I’m fortunate enough to be surrounded by rail trails. And still last fall, I took a minor tumble and fractured my wrist.
Sad irony too that Hansard was a huge Dylan fan and his death happened on the 60th anniversary off Bob’s infamous motorcycle crash in Woodstock.
Read Robyn Hitchcock for more on that accident and Dylan’s music:
The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration acknowledges the allure of motorcycles but notes the peril:
If you ride a motorcycle, you already know how much fun riding can be. You understand the exhilaration of cruising the open road and the challenge of controlling a motorcycle. But motorcycling can also be dangerous. Per vehicle miles traveled fatality rate in 2024, motorcyclists were almost 27 times more likely than passenger car occupants to die in a motor vehicle crash and were almost 5 times more likely to be injured. Safe motorcycling takes balance, coordination, and good judgment.
Wade Thiel, who writes about motorcycles, offered a defense of the choice to ride them in a comment below and also reposted this from Marcus Aurelius:
Greg Mitchell has rounded up some wonderful Hansard moments:
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.