Glen Hansard

It is strange to miss someone you never knew.

If you’ve not heard of Glen Hansard, you’re not alone: the Irish singer-songwriter, activist and actor wasn’t a household name in most parts of the world, though he got a big American spotlight shone on him when he and then-musical partner and co-star Markéta Irglová won an Oscar in 2008 for co-writing “Falling Slowly,” the hit song from the quietly beautiful 2007 film “Once.”

He died Wednesday morning in a motorcycle crash in Dublin. He was 56, and is survived by a partner, a child, friends and fans.

I can’t properly say how I feel about it yet. It’s sad, very sad. He was talented, very talented. His music meant, and means, a great deal to me. I didn’t know him, though I did get to see him live at Largo in Los Angeles with Pete Holmes. Glen’s stories were as funny and wonderful as his music was transportive and emotional.

At one point, he paused between tunes to describe a memorable visit to Marilyn Manson’s house. He didn’t like the vibe over there. Then he walked into a room and saw a giant Nazi flag on display, and became enraged. He left. I believe he concluded the story with “Anyway, FUCK Marilyn Manson!” and sang another song.

His biggest American hit, “Falling Slowly,” is a great song. It’s not my favorite of his songs, but it’s lovely. He did incredible original work and truly magical covers, too.

My favorite Glen Hansard song changes over time, but this was my first favorite. It’s called “Mind’s Made Up.” It’s quite short, a tortured and haunting cry. Rage and sadness and yearning are all there.

He did a million things before and after that film soundtrack - albums, live shows, tours with so many people, including Eddie Vedder - but if you’d like to sample an Olden Times Tiny Desk, here’s one from 16 years ago.

I recommend his 2015 album, “Didn’t He Ramble,” in its entirety.

I wish I could tell him thank you, but I know so many people did in his lifetime. I hope he was able to receive that and hold it. I don’t imagine it was easy to be inside his head, but that’s the way of most great artists, isn’t it?

I don’t want to meet most of my favorite artists, but Glen had the ability to make an audience feel as if we’d not only met him, but had befriended him. It wasn’t real, of course, but it didn’t feel forced or artificial, either. This illusion arises naturally when an artist is so present and so warm.

Here he is in an episode of Track Star, released only one month ago. In it, he speaks with great sympathy about a mentally ill young man who got onstage beside him and committed suicide in front of a crowd of 4,000 people at an all-ages show. The next day, he received an empathetic phone call from Eddie Vedder, and that led to a long friendship and musical collaboration.

Glen was a great one. I don’t think I’ll ever forget him or his music. I hope I don’t. For now, it remains deeply strange to consider a world that doesn’t have him in it.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.