“Falling Slowly”
from the album The Cost
2007
iTunes
MP3 – “Falling Slowly” [right-click/save-as]
For nearly 17 years now, the Frames have been the most, well, Dublin band in Dublin, lording (in a slightly less-than-U2 sense) over a scene bustling with buskers, trad acts and well-meaning noise-rock outfits, watching artists (and rivals) like Damien Rice snag international acclaim — and Hollywood actresses — while they grinded and gigged with a serene, slightly goofy sense of grandiosity/sadness.
In a sense, they were sort of like an Irish version of Our Lady Peace; beloved and acclaimed in their homeland, invisible and inconsequential to the rest of the globe. And, on the surface, that would seem like a pretty good gig. But when the Frames finally scored a proper North American record contract in late ’04, they responded with Burn the Maps, a dark, desperate disc that sounded very much like a band staring down middle age and obsolescence with heavy hearts and sails half-empty. Frontman Glen Hansard — once the king of the joyous, rambling live set — didn’t so much sing anymore as he did wince, and live shows at SXSW and New York’s Bowery Ballroom became heavy, droning affairs (even the album’s most upbeat tune, “Fake,” was a thinly veiled swipe at all Rice had achieved).
Not surprisingly, the album didn’t sell, but it did earn the band their fare share of critical praise on these shores, a strange bit of sorta-success that has seemingly placated Hansard, for better or worse. Because while most of the songs on the The Cost, the band’s sixth full-length, still shudder with Maps‘ sense of weariness, there are also moments of genuine beauty, hope and, well, pride sprinkled throughout.
Take, for example, “Falling Slowly,“ one of two songs Hansard co-wrote with Czech singer Marketa Irglova (with whom he recorded his first solo album, The Swell Season, last year.) Starting off with a whirl of guitars and keys, then quickly falling away to just Hansard and his acoustic, it’s standard Frames fare: a song about empty love and the machinations of the heart, full of mentions of failed words, wicked games and sinking seacrafts. But there’s something more at work here, a spirit that’s lit by the inspired bow work of violinist Colm Mac Conlomaire and buoyed by Hansard’s feck-allfalsetto. When he warbles “You have suffered long enough/ And warred with yourself/ Take this sinking boat and point it home/ We’ve still got time” it’s easy to imagine that he’s not just singing about some failed romance, but, rather, the Frames themselves.
It’s a newfound sense of both honesty and courage that — for a band nearing their 20th anniversary — is both rare and, frankly, pretty awe-inspiring. Of course, it’s also a little bit goofy and a tad over-the-top, but, hey, that’s what the Frames are known for. And maybe, finally, the band is happy with that. Or maybe not. As Our Lady Peace once said, happiness is not a fish you can catch.