The Swell Season “Say It To Me Now”

Five songs I’m looking forward to hearing again, in Newport.

I’m hesitant to write this post, because it does go against personal policy.

I try not to retell other people’s stories.

It just never comes off, does it? When someone retells a joke they heard on a comedy special, or tries to paraphrase Quint’s “Indianapolis” speech from “Jaws” or whatever. It loses something in the retelling. And it even detracts from the original if someone retells a story, and then later you hear it from the original source.

So if you’re going to see The Swell Season anytime soon, maybe you should just skip this post. (ed. note: you may also want to skip to the end of this post and watch the video first)

I think I was already in a bit of a fragile state of mind when I saw The Swell Season last fall. I’ve seen shows within the last week, that I’ve spent less time thinking about, than the show at Berklee in November.

Most affecting was Glen Hansard’s story that seemed to start as an aside---and yes, here is where I ruin his story, by trying to be brief and encapsulate it. He’s an Irishman, for Fuck’s Sake. A masterful storyteller. And here I go, giving you the Instant Mashed Potato version.

He was in an elevator in Chicago, the night after a show, headed down to the lobby. There was a woman in the elevator.

He commented on her beautiful coat. She thanked him and began to cry.

She explained that she’d gone through a really hard time, had lost her son. She said she’d stayed at home for nearly two years. But she decided to live again. She saw the coat in a store window and even though it was more expensive than she could afford, she bought it, as a promise to herself to seize the day.

“My son. He was in one of those fucking buildings.”

You could feel the room seize up.

Hansard didn’t have to explain to the audience what she meant. We all knew he was talking about September 11th.

The woman said she had woken up that day with a bad feeling in her gut. She’d tried to call her son, but had not been able to get through to him. She never got to speak to him.

Hansard walked her to a cab, gave the woman his email address and invited her to come see his show. “She’d never heard of us,” he laughed, lightening the mood. “We’re headed back to Chicago next week to play again. I hope she comes out.”

And then he played “Say It To Me Now.”

I still get chills, get filled up, when I hear that song, and I think about “those fucking buildings.”

And I marvel at his masterful storytelling. He didn’t say why he played “Say It To Me Now.” He didn’t hit us over the head with the point of the story, or the point of the song. He didn’t have to.

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Amazing news. I found a Youtube video of Glen telling the story and singing the song. He definitely told the story, slightly differently on the night I saw him. Hope I didn't ruin it for you.