Sean Doran
Audio By Carbonatix
Electronic elements and a vastly different vocal approach give the new record a distinctly different personality, and the new songs created a night that was anything but plainly earnest or all that mellow.
Opening the show alone, sitting at a piano, Hansard’s voice sounded strong and resolute, without a hint of wear or tear. For the second song of the night, Hansard proffered a solo acoustic, yet plenty emphatic, take on “This Gift.” The song is from his 2012 Rhythm and Repose album, which features a rather pensive, almost nervous portrait of Hansard. It could easily double as the album cover should he ever actually record under the “Earnest Strum” moniker.
Joining Hansard onstage for the third tune, the six-member band kicked into “The Moon,” which intriguingly enough, was the softest song of the entire show. But this wasn’t just any backing band. The guitar player seated to Hansard’s left was Javier Mas, an absolute legend who spent many years as sideman for iconic poet troubadour Leonard Cohen. The Spaniard’s 12-string virtuosity lent the night an epic aura from song to song.
Irish saxophonist Michael Buckley also contributed plenty of colorful elements, ensuring each number projected its own personality. A glorious sax-fueled cacophony provided “When your Mind’s Made Up,” one of the popular tunes from Once, with a rather raucous catharsis.
About halfway through the set, Hansard stopped a song to check on a woman in the audience, near the stage. Seems she was having to deal with a bothersome fellow in some way, and the star of the show wasn’t going to let things go on if she wasn’t enjoying herself. That was after he had done a bit of jig-dancing with his acoustic guitar held high over his head, mind you. There’s nothing mellow about that.
The foreboding tone and ominous guitar work of “The Closing Door,” from the latest record, kept things moving in an attention-commanding manner. As if to channel Bob Dylan at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, Hansard strapped on a baby blue electric guitar for a fully plugged-in “Didn’t He Ramble.” In all fairness, that song has always been an amp-busting rock song, but here, the band ended it with a brazen slide into the Doors’ “LA Woman,” with Hansard belting out “Mr. Mojo Risin!” to close it out.
The later stage of the set offered a stellar study in opposites that Hansard has been perfecting with this new, less-folky catalog. The extended jams that finished off some of the tunes carried a majestic, cinematic weight not uncommon with post-rock bands such as Explosions in the Sky, for example. But when he wanted to channel his inner Woody Guthrie, as was the case with “Way Back in the Way Back When,” he did so with a stomping sincerity.
Of course, “Falling Slowly” whipped the audience up, with its grand, gradual build into a dramatic climax. An almost a capella “Grace Beneath the Pines” was astounding, as he stepped away from the microphone to test his recently recovered voice for all it was worth. With his hand over his heart, he led the packed, standing-room crowd in the kind of singalong where you could at once hear everyone singing, but, somehow, hear a pin drop if one happened to do so.
But for all of the talk about a being a forlorn balladeer or an adventurous electro-jazz composer or a movie song guy, Hansard is, if nothing else, a dynamic, engaging performer, able to magnetize the stage with whatever it is he may be offering from night to night.
