Come at Glen Hansard from any angle you like, but no one can dispute that the Ballymun-born singer- songwriter has stuck to his artistic guns with immense courage over the years. Music has essentially been his whole life since he quit school to become a street busker at the tender age of 13. And, oh my, how he’s rambled, with battered guitar on back, down that long, winding and often lonely rock ‘n’ roll road.
The absence of a question mark at the end of this album title speaks volumes. It’s a statement: didn’t he ramble... yeah, he really fucking did. All over the planet. In fact, he’s still at it.
For simplicity’s sake, his career can be divided into two phases – pre and post-Once. While he and The Frames enjoyed their moments in the sun, and built a sizeable following in Ireland in particular, the years leading up to Hansard’s 2008 Academy Award win were lean and peripatetic. Inevitably, they were peppered with angst, frustration, hard work and struggle. Coming from that embattled background, you get the sense that at least some of the seven years since Once irrevocably changed his trajectory have been spent struggling to come to terms with the meaning of it all.
These experiences have fed into Didn’t He Ramble. Following on from his excellent 2012 solo debut, Rhythm and Repose, this highly polished second outing sees Hansard taking an occasional look back at the many diverse roads he’s travelled, and often marvelling at the fact that he found the resilience within himself to keep going during the darker periods.
Essentially, he has earned his stripes. The cornerstone track is probably the album closer, ‘Stay The Road’: “Tired, tired eyes look up and see/ All you’ve done, the path you’ve come/ The things that you’ve achieved/ And when you’re doubting/ I hope you’ll trust in me/ Tired, tired eyes look up and see.” A lifelong Pixies fan, it’s probably not a coincidence that he also slips in a “Come on, pilgrim,” or two.
Recorded in Dublin, New York, Chicago and France, Didn’t He Ramble was produced by Thomas Bartlett(The National, Sufjan Stevens), who also helmed his debut, and his mega-talented former Frames bandmate David Odlum (Paloma Faith, Tinariwen). The album also features guest appearances by John Sheahan of The Dubliners, Sam Beam of Iron and Wine, and acclaimed young American folk artist Sam Amidon (aka Mr. Beth Orton).
Proceedings open slowly with the lush, majestic and guitar-free ‘Grace Beneath the Pines’. It’s a statement of intent that he could easily have penned years ago. Strings brass and piano take care of the atmospherics, and Hansard’s voice has never so sounded so fine. “There’ll be no more running round for me/ No more backing down, you’ll see/ Whatever lies in store for me/ I’ll get through it.” His plaintive repetitions of the line, “I’ll get through it,” send shivers down the spine.
The powerful, Dylanesque lead single ‘Winning Streak’ is another song about struggle (its Braden King directed video features boxers in training). The message is an inspiring one. No matter who you are, or what you do, we’re all fighting our way through life. And when you’re knocked down – as you will be – it’s your friends who’ll get you back on your feet again. “And may the sign of the cross/ Be some comfort when you’re lost/ Help you when you’re all broke down/ May the spirit of good brethren/ Turn you around...”
There isn’t a single musical misstep on this superbly produced, brilliantly played, and perfectly pitched collection. It’s folk-rock, with bells, whistles and gospel singers, and shades of Dylan, Morrison, Cohen and Springsteen.
There are big ballsy songs here – ‘Her Mercy’, ‘Lowly Deserter’ – but occasionally he tones it down. ‘McCormack’s Wall’ sounds like an old barroom standard, but it’s not. Amping up his Irish accent, Hansard raises a glass and has a drink, “For all guitar makers/ for the prisoners and the law/ and the fine wine drinkers/ who drank their bellies raw.”
There’s an air of determination in the menacing ‘Little Ruin’: “You could stand among the best of them if you could hold your own/ But no-one’s gonna do it for you now, but you and you alone.”
This isn’t an experimental album, nor is it an attempt to push the boundaries of contemporary folk. It is simply a collection of beautifully crafted, heartfelt songs, created by an artist who has more than earned his place at the high table. He didn’t get there by luck. As he sings on the reflectively mellow ‘Paying My Way’, “Well, you can’t just get what you want/ Without a little work a day/ And you can’t just stick out your hand/ No, it doesn’t work that way.”
Long may he continue to ramble.