Still In The Frame

By Joe Kavanagh

Perhaps no other band in the storied history of Irish rock music has had a career path that even approaches that of Dublin act, The Frames. In a career spanning 16 years, they have seen more labels than Naomi Campbell, shed more members than a Japanese kamikaze society, been lauded as the next big thing and then derisively panned as yesterday's men, only to return to the forefront of Irish rock music again and again. Like some stubborn street-fighter, they apparently never know when they are beaten and - in Ireland at least - there are legions of fans that delight in this hard-nosed quality, many of whom were not even born when the band played their first gig to a small crowd in the west of Ireland all those years ago. For frontman, main songwriter and Frame-in-chief, Glen Hansard, it could never have been any other way.

Growing up in Dublin in the 80s, Hansard decided at 13-years-old that he would leave school to pursue a career in music and didn't so much consult his parents, as inform them of his decision. Perhaps it was something they saw in his steely determination, or the fact that his own family were all musical, but his parents consented on the provision that he go out and earn a living a musician, as opposed to just sitting in his bedroom strumming on a guitar. Taking to the streets with his acoustic, Hansard became a familiar sight, busking throughout the city as he knocked out numbers by idols such as Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen, as well as his own compositions, gathering around him a tight group of fellow buskers that would eventually form the core of the Dublin music scene 10 years later. After telling his mother that he wanted to make a demo tape, she was kind enough - and crafty enough - to go to her local bank and inform the manager that she needed a loan to 'do up her house.' Instead the money went into a 4-track demo of her son's original music and with only 50 copies pressed, the 17-year-old Hansard viewed it more a jumping off point as opposed to a major career move. Like some fairytale, however, one of the demos somehow found its way into the hands of a man named Denny Cordell, who had made his name by discovering such artists as Tom Petty and Joe Cocker, and now made a living as a scout for Island Records. He invited the young musician around to his house, where an astounded Hansard walked into a room that included Ron Wood, Stewart Copeland and Marianne Faithful. After a long discussion about music, Cordell picked up the telephone and, in front of Hansard, called up Island head honcho, Chris Blackwell and told him that he had a young artist he wanted to sign. Blackwell approved but it would get better still.

In 1990 the young man was chosen to play the part of lovable but slow-witted guitarist, Outspan Foster in a low-budget movie being shot by legendary director of The Wall, Alan Parker, which would turn into the global smash/phenomenon known as The Commitments, giving Hansard vast exposure - though he alone would refuse to join the subsequent touring band from the movie, instead returning to begin work on his album for Island. Choosing a cadre of musicians from his busker friends to make up The Frames, the band entered the studio with dreams of global success but naiveté soon had the wheels wobbling on their vehicle to superstardom. As a huge fan of the Pixies, he informed the label that he wanted the producer of the Boston-based band's album, Surfer Rosa, to be in charge of the project, even though he now admits that he did not even know his name (Steve Albini for those of you scoring at home). Instead, Island told him that they could get Gil Norton, who produced the Pixies follow-up, Doolittle, and Hansard readily agreed. It would prove a huge mistake as Norton - despite being an excellent producer - was essentially hung up on a heavy sound, whereas Albini was known as a man capable of many styles. Like the phrase about 'round pegs and square holes', Norton attempted to turn Hansard's folk-tinged songs into something they were not resulting in an end product that neither side was happy with. When their debut, Another Love Song, tanked outside of Ireland and was mauled by critics, Island Records were added to that list of unhappy people and dropped the band faster than you could say 'flash in the pan.'

Showing innovation and guile the band shot the video for lead single, Revelate, by going to a post office where the mother of a friend worked. When she went out for lunch, the band replaced the security tape with one of their own and shot themselves monkeying around in the post office, before replacing the original tape before she got back. Despite costing the equivalent of only $4 in total, the video went on to garner an MTV Europe nomination and it finally looked as if the band were on their way to international success. They even had celebrity fans such as Matt Dillon singing their praises to anyone that would listen.

As the anticipation grew in the lead up to their next album, many in Ireland were tipping the Frames to be the band that finally dragged the Irish music scene out from under the formidable shadow of U2. Again, the wheels came off with the disappointing Dance With Devil (1999), a record that suffered from a lack of identity as the band attempted to once again embrace a more folk-oriented style, whilst the label pushed them more toward a harder-edge. The combination of commercial failure and 'creative differences' were too much to bear and Hansard and company found themselves dropped again. This time, however, a combination of their rugged determination and a growing Irish fanbase saw the band set up their own label, which allowed them the freedom they had long craved. It paid off with their next release, For The Birds (2001), which was critically acclaimed for its lo-fi sound and engendered enough interest in the US that Chicago label, Overcoat Records, agreed to distribute it. With a growing US fanbase, a tour was arranged to later that year but tragedy struck when Hansard's long-time friend and collaborator, Mic Christopher, died in a tragic accident just before the tour and the Frames decided they were in no shape to make the trip.

Again, the band's career seemed to go totally off the rails and it appeared that the end was indeed nigh Once again though, the band proved everybody wrong, even going so far as to relocate for most of the year to the far cheaper Czech Republic, in order to sustain their career because the rising cost of living driven by the Celtic Tiger meant that they could not survive on what they were making. Instead they would return several times a year to play gigs to their loyal following and their independence meant that they could pretty much release albums at will, resulting in the live album, Breadcrumb Trail (2002) and a collection of B-Sides The Roads Outgrown (2003), though most felt that their time had passed.

Then a funny thing began to happen when the band released live album, Set List, in 2004. Through pure stubbornness they had survived through all the odds in a wholly unforgiving business and by now had built up a large back catalogue of songs. Whilst the Frames had never really made that one big breakthrough album, they had by now a formidable collection of tunes, many of which had become part of the very cultural fabric of Ireland. With all of these tunes gathered on one album, people- particularly the younger generation - began to realize that here was a pretty good band and the album broke all their previous sales records in Ireland. Suddenly, the Frames were back in business and the release of their finest work to date, Burn The Maps, the following year meant that suddenly the Frames were big business. Hansard later confessed that he finally gave up his control freak ways and allowed the other band members to have more of a say in the song writing and readily admits now that he would not have even allowed the subsequent single, Fake, to appear on the album, were it not for the insistence of the other band members. It would go on to sell 15,000 copies in Ireland, making it their biggest selling single to date and the band went on to sell out shows up and down Ireland as their profile grew to greater domestic heights than they had ever known. They even managed to sell more tickets to a 2005 concert in Dublin's Marley Park than either the White Stripes or Radiohead and even began to make incremental advances in the US through tours with American acts Calexico and Josh Ritter.

There remains however, two frustrating facts about the band, one from their perspective and the other from that of the music buying public. The Frames will admit that they are almost by their very nature an Irish phenomenon and - try as they might - they appear unable to shake that stigma. Even abroad, their gigs are attended by crowds overwhelmingly populated by Irish ex-pats, and although - as we mentioned - there are some signs that this trend is changing in the US, it appears that this will be their permanent lot in the UK, Europe and Australia. The second concern is the fact that the band has yet to make anything that approaches a 'classic' album. Instead their works are ordinarily characterized by a handful of good tracks and so much filler. Many would argue that their latest album, The Cost, which came out in September of this year does not even have that, such has the deafening silence that it has been greeted with. This is not the way to musical greatness and could go a long way to explaining their limitations. Whilst the home crowds are willing to forgive such foibles, the sharpened pens of critics will not and perhaps it is too late for the Frames to achieve success on any kind of global scale.

No matter where you stand on the band; Glen Hansard set out as a 13-year-old to make a career in music and after 20 years in the business, nine albums and as many trips around the world, only the most cynical would say that he has failed.