At least once, and hopefully many times, each of us has experienced the rush of being completely transported by a musical experience – one concert, one song, or even a single riff. For 15-year-old Dave Evans, Moment One was playing guitar (loudly) for his classmates in a high school auditorium with a band of three friends. One of those friends thought maybe the band could become as big as The Beatles. Evans’ reaction? “Yeah, right.” How U2 struggled out of Dublin’s small music scene and actually became the world’s biggest band is one of the best stories in rock, but even more amazing is how they’ve managed to stay that way for decades. Equally proud and humble about the journey, The Edge recounts it from the inside, sharing the origins of his iconic guitar sound, the unique songwriting process that both confounds and inspires him, and how the band chased – and then adjusted to – success. And, why success is never a good place to stop.
At least once, and hopefully many times, each of us has experienced the rush of being completely transported by a musical experience – one concert, one song, or even a single riff. For 15-year-old Dave Evans, Moment One was playing guitar (loudly) for his classmates in a high school auditorium with a band of three friends. One of those friends thought maybe the band could become as big as The Beatles. Evans’ reaction? “Yeah, right.” How U2 struggled out of Dublin’s small music scene and actually became the world’s biggest band is one of the best stories in rock, but even more amazing is how they’ve managed to stay that way for decades. Equally proud and humble about the journey, The Edge recounts it from the inside, sharing the origins of his iconic guitar sound, the unique songwriting process that both confounds and inspires him, and how the band chased – and then adjusted to – success. And, why success is never a good place to stop.
Despite his promising start as a vendor of illegal fireworks, there was never much question that Glen Hansard’s street trade would be anything but busking music—a practice, it’s safe to bet, would never be outlawed in his hometown of Dublin, Ireland, where it’s also apparently not illegal to leave school at 13 to take it up. He rose to decent acclaim in his rock band The Frames, but it was a no-budget, quickly shot little film called Once that changed the trajectory of his life and fame. At height of that success, he began work on his latest and most deeply felt album, only to be told his songs were essentially no good. If there’s one cliché we’re happy Hansard perpetuates, it’s that the Irish are delightful storytellers. The singer, songwriter, and reluctant actor talks about his complicated family life, the folly of courting the muse, and the risk of tunnel-career-vision. He also divulges how you can sell the same piano four times and improve your songwriting by replacing words like “heart” and “love” with… something a bit less romantic.
Despite his promising start as a vendor of illegal fireworks, there was never much question that Glen Hansard’s street trade would be anything but busking music—a practice, it’s safe to bet, would never be outlawed in his hometown of Dublin, Ireland, where it’s also apparently not illegal to leave school at 13 to take it up. He rose to decent acclaim in his rock band The Frames, but it was a no-budget, quickly shot little film called Once that changed the trajectory of his life and fame. At height of that success, he began work on his latest and most deeply felt album, only to be told his songs were essentially no good. If there’s one cliché we’re happy Hansard perpetuates, it’s that the Irish are delightful storytellers. The singer, songwriter, and reluctant actor talks about his complicated family life, the folly of courting the muse, and the risk of tunnel-career-vision. He also divulges how you can sell the same piano four times and improve your songwriting by replacing words like “heart” and “love” with… something a bit less romantic.
Despite his promising start as a vendor of illegal fireworks, there was never much question that Glen Hansard’s street trade would be anything but busking music—a practice, it’s safe to bet, would never be outlawed in his hometown of Dublin, Ireland, where it’s also apparently not illegal to leave school at 13 to take it up. He rose to decent acclaim in his rock band The Frames, but it was a no-budget, quickly shot little film called Once that changed the trajectory of his life and fame. At height of that success, he began work on his latest and most deeply felt album, only to be told his songs were essentially no good. If there’s one cliché we’re happy Hansard perpetuates, it’s that the Irish are delightful storytellers. The singer, songwriter, and reluctant actor talks about his complicated family life, the folly of courting the muse, and the risk of tunnel-career-vision. He also divulges how you can sell the same piano four times and improve your songwriting by replacing words like “heart” and “love” with… something a bit less romantic.
To quote noir crime master Raymond Chandler, “When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.” Given that Titus Welliver was once put on a “Nastiest Villains of All Time” list, we weren’t sure what to expect when the Bosch star stopped by for a visit. Turns out he’s a lot less ominous than you might think, not to mention a lovely and intelligent guy. Above all, he’s a keen observer of internal and external environments and the people who inhabit them—a trait common to great detectives, and great actors. Luckily he’s a bit less stoic than his alter ego, and offered up a fascinating, honest conversation on the lessons of his challenging childhood, how he approached the delicate business of inhabiting a character that already lived in the imagination of thousands of fans, and how picking up a paintbrush after 25 years changed his relationship with his father, a well-known artist. He also offered up some impressions that are hilariously spot on—just ask Christopher Walken. Or maybe, don’t.
To quote noir crime master Raymond Chandler, “When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.” Given that Titus Welliver was once put on a “Nastiest Villains of All Time” list, we weren’t sure what to expect when the Bosch star stopped by for a visit. Turns out he’s a lot less ominous than you might think, not to mention a lovely and intelligent guy. Above all, he’s a keen observer of internal and external environments and the people who inhabit them—a trait common to great detectives, and great actors. Luckily he’s a bit less stoic than his alter ego, and offered up a fascinating, honest conversation on the lessons of his challenging childhood, how he approached the delicate business of inhabiting a character that already lived in the imagination of thousands of fans, and how picking up a paintbrush after 25 years changed his relationship with his father, a well-known artist. He also offered up some impressions that are hilariously spot on—just ask Christopher Walken. Or maybe, don’t.
To quote noir crime master Raymond Chandler, “When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.” Given that Titus Welliver was once put on a “Nastiest Villains of All Time” list, we weren’t sure what to expect when the Bosch star stopped by for a visit. Turns out he’s a lot less ominous than you might think, not to mention a lovely and intelligent guy. Above all, he’s a keen observer of internal and external environments and the people who inhabit them—a trait common to great detectives, and great actors. Luckily he’s a bit less stoic than his alter ego, and offered up a fascinating, honest conversation on the lessons of his challenging childhood, how he approached the delicate business of inhabiting a character that already lived in the imagination of thousands of fans, and how picking up a paintbrush after 25 years changed his relationship with his father, a well-known artist. He also offered up some impressions that are hilariously spot on—just ask Christopher Walken. Or maybe, don’t.
