EDITOR'S NOTE: As the roots music community was stunned to hear of the untimely passing of singer-songwriter and folk-rock bandleader Glen Hansard, many took to social media to share their stories and songs. Milwaukee-based musician Trapper Schoepp, whose latest album Osbourne came out last year, penned an exclusive essay and original song in tribute that we're sharing on the day of Hansard's funeral.
As a singer-songwriter, people always ask who inspires me. I say, “Oh ya know, my Holy Trinity of song. Bob, Bruce and Tom. Sub out Petty for Waits on a rainy day.” But the truth is this: Glen Hansard has been the most inspirational force in my creative life.
I took up guitar after having spinal decompression surgery from a BMX bicycle accident at a young age. I heard Dylan’s “Hurricane” in a movie, watched School of Rock, and that lit a spark. Later, I was lucky enough to publish a song with Dylan called “On, Wisconsin.”
But as I progressed through my life as a songwriter, I needed an open flame, not a spark. A muse. Someone modern, accessible, and freewheeling. That was Glen Hansard. His songs dig deep. They carry weight, expressing extraordinary dynamic reach both musically and lyrically.
Hansard's right hand guitar technique is the stuff of legend, always playing a beat up acoustic akin to Willie Nelson’s “Trigger.” He plays like a boxer in the heat of battle with an ebb and flow of intensity and tenderness. It’s a delicate balance and he always seemed steady in the fury.
Songs like “Falling Slowly” and “Wedding Ring” stand tall in the canon of modern love songs and his solo catalogue, and that of his band The Frames, is as diverse as his influences, ranging from ancient Irish folk, punk rock, Bob Dylan, U2, and Woody Guthrie.
His folkly approach and spirit encompass everything I dig about music. He honors his roots, but brings it into the present. He understood he was a link in a long chain of those before and after his time.
The film Once was my invitation into his musical universe, as well as the Broadway musical adaptation I was fortunate enough to see. I related to his hard-luck love story and scrappy start busking on the streets of Dublin.
As a self-proclaimed street picker and lover of vintage Hoover vacuums, the talking blues “Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy” hit me in all the right ways. His songs were universal, but so specific to his own struggles. Like me, he didn’t have familial industry connections and had to fight for every penny that dropped in his street side guitar case — and had plenty of side hustles to make it work. If that guitar case was a well, those pennies musta been lucky. 'Cause when he won that Oscar and stood at that podium, his shock and awe was tangible. But he was a man always filled with blind hope in his art and would do whatever it took. “Make art,” was his closing remark.
