I don’t think I’ve ever seen an outpouring of grief quite like this.
For the past few days, every single time I refresh my social media feed, it is just a wall of love, heartbreak, and shared memories from every corner of the globe. Photos of crowded Dublin pubs, grainy old gig tickets, videos of Grafton Street on Christmas Eve, and messages from people in Tokyo, New York, and Melbourne who were hit just as hard by that glorious, roaring voice as those of us who grew up with him right here in Ireland.
It’s a very strange thing when someone who never actually set foot in your living room feels like a permanent fixture of your life. But that was Glen Hansard.
For so many of us, he was the soundtrack to every awkward teenage romance, every late-night taxi ride home with a bruised heart, and every rain-soaked walk through Dublin. We grew up alongside him. From the raw, chaotic energy of The Commitments to the sprawling, cathartic madness of The Frames gigs, to Once and beyond—he was just always there, pouring every drop of his soul into a battered acoustic guitar.
What made Glen so special wasn't just that staggering talent—though that voice could rip right through you, shifting from a quiet, haunting whisper to a full-throated, raucous howl in the space of a single breath. It was that he never lost the dirt-under-the-fingernails, down-to-earth decency that made him who he was.
He was an Oscar winner, sure, but he was always, fundamentally, a Dublin busker at heart. He had that rare, beautiful humanitarian spirit—the kind of man who would quietly use his platform, his voice, and his energy to fight for people who had nothing, whether that was taking a stand during Apollo House or singing on cold pavements to raise funds for the homeless every single Christmas. He genuinely cared. You could feel it in every chord he struck and every conversation he had.
More than anything today, my heart goes out to his family—his partner, Maire, and their gorgeous three-year-old son, Christy. To hear how deeply becoming a father had opened up his heart in recent years makes his passing all the more heartbreaking.
To see tributes pouring in from everywhere—from Bruce Springsteen, Barack Obama, Mia Farrow and Ben Stiller to everyday people sharing stories of meeting him on a Dublin street—shows just how far his warmth reached.
There is a huge, quiet hole left in the Irish cultural landscape, but what a legacy of pure heart, noise, and kindness to leave behind.
Light a candle, turn the volume up as high as your speakers will allow, and let that voice roar.
And make sure you hug your loved ones close.
You deserve the sweetest dreams, Glen. Thank you for every single song 💜
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