Remembering Irish singer–songwriter Glen Hansard

This is Fresh Air. I'm David Bianculli. Glenn Hansard, the Irish singer-songwriter who got his start busking on the streets of Dublin and later became famous for playing a Dublin street musician in the Irish film Once, died Wednesday from a motorcycle crash. He was 56. Irish President Catherine Connolly said Hansard would be remembered as one of Ireland's great singer-songwriters. Bruce Springsteen, who invited Hansard in 2013 to join him on stage during a show in Kilkenny, said, Glenn Hansard formed the rock band The Frames in the 1990s, made his film debut in The Commitments, playing guitarist Outspanned Foster, and won an Oscar for co-writing the song, Falling Slowly, for the film Once, in which he starred as a struggling musician. The movie was later adapted into a Tony Award-winning musical. Hansard went on to release a number of albums as a solo artist, and he was an advocate for the homeless, performing at an annual Dublin Christmas Eve busk to raise money for people at risk of homelessness. The low-budget indie Irish film that became an international success, titled Once, was written and directed by John Carney, who previously had been in Hansard's band, The Frames. Hansard wrote the music for the movie. In 2008, Terry Gross spoke with Glenn Hansard, and with Czech singer Marketa Erglova, who co-starred in the film. Let's begin with the Oscar-winning song Falling Slowly, which they co-wrote. ♪♪ ♪ I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that. ♪ ♪♪ ♪ Words fall through me, and always fool me, and I can't react. ♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪ I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that. ♪ ♪♪ ♪ In games that never amount to more than they're meant, we'll play themselves out. ♪ ♪♪ ♪ Take this St. Kimball and port it home. We've still got time. ♪ ♪♪ ♪ Raise your hopeful voice. You have a choice. You make it now. ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪ Falling slowly. I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that. ♪ Glenn Hansard, Marketa Erglova, welcome to Fresh Air. Congratulations on the Oscar and all the success you've had with Once. You co-wrote Falling Slowly. Had you ever written a song together before writing for the film? No, that was actually the first song we wrote together, and it was one of those things where I'd been working on the song, and I wasn't really sure where I was going with it. All I had was, you know, it was the verse, and I had an idea for the chorus, and it was only when I sat down with Mar and I played her the idea, because I was talking about a harmony in the chorus, and she said, well, what if you take the lower one, or you take the higher one, and I'll take the lower one, and, you know, on the moment where it goes, we've still got time, and it was, for me, that was like the key of what made the song suddenly work, and then so I wrote the chorus with Mar, and then I really felt like we had a solid song in our hands, and it was something that I could give to John and feel confident with. Glenn, you pointed out that the movie was not written with you in mind as the performer, or with Marketa in mind. Killian Murphy was supposed to be the star of the film, but he had to back out at the last minute, so I guess that's how you ended up being cast yourself. Yeah, I mean, what happened was that Killian was involved in the project all along, and Killian likes the frames, and so he was happy to sing my songs, but I think some of the songs that turned in, I think Killian probably felt a little bit, Killian's a great singer, but I think he felt a bit unprepared, because the songs that John chose were some of the more dynamically, like vocally challenging songs, because I just gave John a bunch of songs, and he chose which ones he liked, which ones he didn't, and I think Killian got a little bit sensitive about me, possibly about the idea of singing a few of these songs and being able to sort of do them justice, and I remember making the suggestion that I was like, I'll change the keys, I'll make it work, because for me, having the job of writing the songs, I just wanted to keep my gig, and so I was like, I'll change the keys, I'll do whatever Killian needs, in order to make these songs work, and I think possibly what happened was that Killian just got offered another job, and then maybe took it, but once Killian pulled out, John was left in a very, I guess he was kind of stranded, because the producers pulled out once Killian pulled out, and then suddenly this project, which was about to film in a month or two, suddenly had no money, and this is kind of where things got exciting for us, because John had already cast Marr, Killian had backed out on him, the producers had backed out on him, but he still had to do it, and so I think Killian was kind of stranded, but he still had a crew booked, and he still had a shoot day, and so he had to sort of figure out, do I drop this project and move on to another idea I had, or do I try to make this work somehow, and we all sat down together, because I was involved in the project as a songwriter, we all sat down together, and we sort of, I guess we all tried to figure out what to do, and I got really excited about the idea of making the film as cheaply as possible, and it also meant that we could, you know, we figured out how to do it, so we wouldn't use lights, we'd shoot, instead of shooting, there was talk of originally shooting the film on film, let's shoot it on DV, and let's, instead of, you know, hiring the cameras, let's just buy two cameras, let's just do it all handheld, let's just bring our own clothes, let's just do this thing super, super minimalist. And let's hire someone real cheap, like Glenn Hansard. Yeah, oh yeah, I forgot about that element, yeah, and let's just get me to do it, let's just get me mate to do it, and when John approached me to do it, I was kind of nervous, I must admit, I wasn't, I didn't really like the idea, because I just didn't feel like I could pull it off, but then John kind of put to me, he said, he said, look, no one's going to sing these songs like you do, because you wrote them. He says, I'm forced into the choice of having, you know, two actors who can probably half sing, or two musicians who can half act. And he says, I'd rather, if it's a musical film, I'd rather have two musicians who can half act, and I'll get a performance out of you. And he says, as long as the music's convincing, I think people are going to believe it. So that was kind of his gamble. Let's hear another song that you co-wrote together for once, and this is If You Want Me. And Glenn, why don't you describe how this song is used in the film? Well, there was one, John wanted to have one song in the film that was basically a throwback, or a salute to the classic musical. We decided a couple of things in the beginning. We said, whenever there's a song in this film, let's have the entire song. And also, whenever there's a song in this film, let's have it be absolutely live, in the moment. You're playing the song in front of them, so that there isn't this whole idea of playback, and, you know, they need mime. So the idea was, that Mar's character, the batteries would go in her CD player, and that she would basically sing over music that I would have supposedly written. And it was going to be a, you know, John wanted basically just to do a singing in the rain moment, where it was a real musical moment. And so we hired a crane, and basically we just walked up the street with Mar that whole evening. And I think it really does work in the film. But that is the one moment where we're miming. Yeah, but it's also a moment where you get to actually know something about the girl. Because I think through, the songs that the male character plays, you get to know something about his personality. You know, something that you probably wouldn't get to know about a person in one and a half hour. And so you get that little chance with that song that the girl sings as well, which works very well, I think. So let's hear it, If You Want Me, and this will give us a chance to hear Marquetta's voice. This is Glenn Hansard and Marquetta Erglover from the soundtrack of their film, Once. I can't tell dreams from truth For it's been so long Since I have seen you I can hardly remember your face anymore When I get really lonely And the distance calls its only silence I think of you smiling With pride in your eyes A lover that sighs If you want me Suddenly it's fine If you want me I'm satisfied That's If You Want Me from the soundtrack of the film Once. My guests co-wrote the song and also starred in the film. Glenn Hansard and Marketa Erglova are my guests. Since neither of you were really actors when you started making Once, although, Glenn, you had a part in the commitments as a member of the band, did you go seeking advice from people about how to act or how to behave in front of a camera? Did you just learn from doing it? And if you got advice, what's the best thing that you were each told that actually helped you? Well, the thing that I was told, and I can't remember who told me right now, somebody said to me, just remember that Marlon Brando was always Marlon Brando. The reason people hired him to be in films is because he was Marlon Brando. I kind of like the idea that no matter what character you're playing, no matter whether you embody it or not, and there are many different styles of acting. Of course, there are many different styles, but this was the thing that I always, that resonated with me most was the fact that just be yourself and embody the character. And I think that for me, that meant that I guess my range as an actor was probably quite limited. And let's face it, I was pretty much playing myself in this film. I, you know, I am a street musician. I was a street musician. I, you know, I did, I fixed bicycles and not hoovers. John changed that detail, I guess. But when I went to the bank to get my first loan, for the frames, the bank manager took out his guitar and played me a song. So there are many details in this guy's life that are very similar to my own. So I guess for myself, it wasn't so difficult to embody this guy. And I think if I was given a more challenging role, I might find it a lot more difficult. But, and as well, we were making this film, I was making this film with Mar, who was a good friend of mine, and also with John Carney, who was in my band, who was a very close friend of mine. So I felt very, very comfortable with these people. It felt like, it felt like a bunch of people. It felt like a bunch of friends making a film over the weekend, more than it felt like being involved in a big artistic challenge. I want to play a scene from the beginning of Once. And this is a scene where, Glenn, you're playing on the street for money, but no one's paying any attention to you at all. And until, Marchetta, you walk over and start asking him questions about himself and the music. Here's the scene. This song you're just playing, you write it? Working on it. It's not an established song? No, it's not an established song. How come you don't play it during daytime? I see you every day. You know, during the day, people want to hear songs they know, just songs that they recognize. I mean, otherwise, I wouldn't make any money. I play these songs at night. They wouldn't listen. I listen. Yeah, but you give me ten cents. What, you do it for money, then? Why don't you get a job in a shop? I'll have a job in a shop. Listen, I'm going to get a job in a shop. I'm going to get back to this, yeah? Nice to meet you. Who'd you write this song for, please? No one. Bullshit. Where is she? She's gone. She's dead? No, she's not dead. She's gone. You love her still? Jesus, man. You're over her. Rubbish. No one will write this song that's over her. I'm telling you. You play this marvellous song to her, you get her back. I don't want her back. Glenn, you started out off as a street musician. When you were in your teens, you dropped out of high school to play on the streets. Where did you choose to play? Like, what was a good street for you in Dublin? Well, for me, Grafton Street was the. It was a bit like in Dublin. And if you can imagine, you know, the microcosm of your life, I suppose. For me, I lived on the north side of the city. So Grafton Street was on the south side of the city. And that, for me, made more sense because it meant that I wouldn't bump into anybody from school and that I wouldn't bump into any of my mother's friends or my mother, indeed. Because my mother was a fruit seller on Moore Street, which is on the north side of the city. And I wanted to get as far away from anybody I knew as possible. So I went over to Grafton Street. And also, Grafton Street was kind of the more posh part of Dublin. So the chances of. the chances of me having a career or getting beyond just being a street musician were. I had better chances, if you like, on the south side of the city because that's kind of where all the artists lived. And, you know. So I went over there and it was a great. For me, it was the beginning of a whole new education. I mean, I left school at 13. I went over there. The day I left school, I went busking. And what started was a. I met a man who sold magazines on the street. His name was Pete. And Pete was a. You know, he prided himself on the fact that he was a Dylanologist. You know, he loved Dylan. He loved everything about. And because I was such a Dylan fan, this guy took me seriously because I was playing Dylan songs that weren't necessarily the ones from the greatest hits record. And so this guy was. took an interest in me and I guess took me under his wing. And I remember going and living with him for a while. And he took me around to, like, poetry readings. And pretty much from there on, I remember meeting this lady, Philippa Garner, who was kind of a famous painter in Ireland. And she took me out to her house in Kildare, which was in the countryside. She lived in an old converted schoolhouse that she had rebuilt. And. I went and lived with her for two years. And really, a whole new education began. I remember staying at Seamus Heaney's house when I was a kid and getting to hang out with poets and other musicians was really the basis of my artistic beginnings. So what's the best thing that happened to you on the streets? Well, for me, I guess, overall, it was my education. I learned how to sing on Grafton Street. I learned how to entertain. When you're on the street, you're a still point. You know, you're part of the architecture. You're still. And if you stand still on any street, in any city, in any country in the world, if you stand still long enough, every single person in that city will pass you by. So, like, you know, I'd be busking and Van Morrison would walk past as I was singing a Van Morrison song. Or, you know, Bono would go by or. Is that true? Really? They'd go by? Oh, yeah, absolutely. Okay, so Van Morrison was walking by. What do you do? Do you say, excuse me? Not at all, no. With someone like Van, you would just give him his space. And actually, ironically, the reason, I guess, he was passing by was because we were. Myself and my friend were busking together and we were singing Van. Because Van songs are amazing to busk. So one day we were busking, playing one of his songs, and he passed by. But actually, the irony was that we were busking enough money to go see him that night. So actually, we ended up busking up enough money to go see him. And the same thing happened to us with you two. We were busking up the money to go see them one time and we saw them the same day, which is very interesting. So, Glenn, when you dropped out of school at the age of, what, 14, so that you could perform on the streets, what did your parents think of that? Well, I'm very lucky in that my mother, again, my mother was very, very liberal. She grew up in a very, very tight household where she had to be home at a certain time and, you know, she had 12 brothers and sisters and I guess the family had to keep everybody, you know, herd them together, I guess, if you like. So my mother grew up in the 60s, you know, and so during that time she wanted, she wanted basically to give her kids the freedom that she never had. So my mother was, like, very, very liberal. She said to me, anytime you need, you know, if you want to do something, you know, when I came home to her and said, Mara, I really want to do music, my mother just said, well, do it then. And she said, well, do it, and if you're going to do it, do it properly. So go, you know, go and earn a living from it and do it and get really involved in it. So I was lucky, and my dad, my dad was, you know, I guess my dad was one of those guys who was, he worked hard, but he was a hard-drinking man and didn't, and supported us in whatever we wanted to do but didn't really play much of a role in our lives except to say, yeah, fair play to you, son, go for it. You know, so my dad was, I guess, was on board with it too. I was very, very lucky. I mean, my headmaster in school, my headteacher, he was a great guy. He, I was in his office so many times and we talked and talked, and I guess he was a smart guy. He figured out that music was the one subject I really enjoyed talking about. And because he was, in his part, in his spare time, he was a DJ. And so myself and himself would talk about Dylan and Cohen and Neil Young and all the stuff that really impassioned me. And he basically said to me one day, he called me down to the office and he says, Glenn, you know what? You're in this school, you're not learning a thing, you're frustrating all of the teachers and I know you love music. So I have an idea. Why don't you go, take your guitar, go over to Grafton Street or go to any street you want, but start your musical career at the very bottom today. He said, you know, go and go and, you know, take your guitar out. And if in a year you're not enjoying it or it's not working out for you, come back to school and I'll figure out a way of getting you back into class and you can continue your education. He said, but I don't think that your education is going anywhere. He says, you know, he says, you can tell me, all the musicians who played on John Wesley Harding or you can, you know, you can tell me who produced the first two Leonard Cohen records, but you can't tell me the square root of nine. And he says, so you're not really very good to us here and I'd like to see you succeed. So he sent me home that day to take my guitar and go to the Grafton Street. And when I went home, I said to my mother, I dropped my school bag in the hall and I said to my mother, Ma, I'm going to start my career as a musician. And my mother was like, what, really? And I was like, yeah, she says, well, we'll go for it, son, and good luck. Glenn Hansard, speaking to Terry Gross in 2008. Glenn Hansard died Wednesday in a motorcycle accident at age 56. We'll hear more after a break. Also, Kevin Whitehead has an appreciation of Tony Bennett. Monday marks the centenary of his birth. I'm David Bianculli, and this is Fresh Air. ♪ I beg your pardon ♪ We jumped McCormack's Wall I was so happy just to be with you I'd have said anything at all Now I could scream your name Try past the blame But I know you won't respond Well here we are What's there to do? La-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da I'm gonna ride Black River And with the lark in the morning And the dew upon the dawn This is Fresh Air. I'm David Bianculli. We're listening to Terry's 2008 interview with. with singer-songwriters Glenn Hansard and Marquetta Erglova. They co-starred in the 2007 Irish film called Once about two street musicians. Hansard wrote the music for it and they both co-wrote the film's Oscar-winning song Falling Slowly. Hansard and Erglova went on to perform off-screen as the duo Swell Season and, for a time, were a couple. Hansard died Wednesday at the age of 56. How did you both meet? Me and Glenn? Yeah. Well, it was a case of my father helping a man that lives in Ireland get this Irish band over to Czech Republic and Slovakia for a few gigs. And he was the guy that would kind of help out on the Czech side because he obviously speaks Czech and English so he'll be able to communicate and get venues to be helpful. And so he basically helped organize a few gigs at the Frames. But around the area. And because he did do that when the band came over they just kind of came to our house and we organized a party for them in our garden. And that was where we met basically around a fire playing songs and singing along and my mother cooked us big feasts. So we met in a really lovely way where my family would basically invite the whole bunch which was about 12 people over to the house and befriend Glenn and the band. So then Glenn would just keep coming. To the house because of my mother's cooking and stuff. So it's a very funny way of us meeting. But throughout the years we would have become friends. I want to ask you about another scene from once. There's a great scene in what I think is a pub. It almost looks like a living room but I think it's actually like a small pub. And everybody's kind of eating dinner and drinking. And the rule of the game here is that you have to be able to sing to be in on this dinner. And people just kind of alternate singing. And there's a kind of middle-aged woman and a middle-aged man or slightly older man who sing a few bars. And they have really interesting voices. And I was wondering, who are they? And is this based on a real pub in Dublin? Well, actually that room is where me and Mara live. That's our flat. Oh! Yeah, and because we didn't have money to hire a venue we decided to have a party in our flat. No wonder it looks like an apartment. Yeah, that's our place. That's where we live. And also the guy I was telling you about earlier on, the first person I met, the Dylan Oliver, the psychologist in Grafton Street, that's Pete. And he's the guy who sings. Oh. And then the woman who sings is my mother. No! Yeah, that's my mother, Catherine. And again, how we did it was, instead of trying to hire a room and put lots of extras in it, we just threw a party and invited all our friends over. Oh, that's good. I really liked her voice. You know, there was something vaguely Marianne Faithfull-ish about it. Yeah. The older Marianne Faithfull. Yeah, yeah. Interestingly, Marianne Faithfull used to live in that flat also. Which you might have somehow picked up on, yeah. We're very lucky in that we live. One of the other people that I met when I was younger was Marina Guinness, who's part of the Guinness family in Ireland. And, like, Ireland doesn't have royalty. But if we did have royalty, it would have to be the Guinness family. Because they're such a strong and powerful family in Ireland in a very nice way. And, of course, we all admire them because we drink their product constantly. It's an amazing thing. So I'm really glad you pointed out the guy and the woman because the guy is the guy I was talking about who took me on board. And I spent a lot of time with him when I was younger. And, of course, my mother. Now we have to play that scene. Great to see yous here. Can you sing? You can't sing, you're out. There's one request I'll ask of you When you're a liberty you gave Remember Mitchell far away A convict bound in shame That once held his heart of mine That's a scene from Once, which stars my guests Glenn Hansard and Marketa Erglova. Did your mother sing a lot when you were growing up? Yeah, my mother sang constantly when we were kids. And my father. My mother used to win, like, she won a bunch of competitions when we were kids, you know, in pubs. And, you know, they never. My mother. My mother, of course, never took singing as seriously as, say, I did. But, you know, and my father. My grandfather was an opera singer and my grandfather sang. I remember my great-grandfather sang in the same competition as James Joyce and beat him, apparently, in an opera competition a long, long time ago. So music's definitely been in my family. So, wow, your lives have just been so changed by the movie. It's just. I mean, in every way, in terms of your performances, in terms of. in terms of the fact that you're now a couple and you're living together, I'm sure you just never expected that. Not at all. I mean, it's been a very, very serendipitous, I suppose. It's been a very, very interesting and powerful chapter in my life, for sure. And, you know, yeah, exactly. It's like, does life imitate art? Does art imitate life? With Once, it definitely. The lines are definitely blurred and I really like that about it. Since Dylan figures into your story here, Glenn, particularly, your story, I think maybe we'll end with You Ain't Going Nowhere from the soundtrack of the Dylan movie, the movie about Dylan, I'm Not Here, the fictional movie about Dylan. So you recorded You Ain't Going Nowhere for it. Now, I know Dylan was a big influence on you, Glenn. You sang Dylan songs when you were busking as a teenager on the streets. The frames opened for Dylan on some tour or another, so I imagine you got to meet him. Yeah. Did he have much time? Do you have much to say? Is he meetable? I mean, is he accessible as a person? Well, you know, I'm very, very lucky in that I got to spend, you know, some time in Bob's company and he's one of those men I don't even feel very comfortable talking about him because he's just so. For me, he's just a great. And, you know, I've been lucky in my life in that I've met all the people that I've really adored. I've somehow managed to meet and I feel great about that. And so spending a bit of time in a master's company gives one a great sense of humility. And so all I can say is that I definitely wasn't disappointed. I spoke to Bob about Woody Guthrie and that was, for me, was, you know, what was really great about that was it was two people, two artists speaking about another artist and that was the, for me, was the way, the best way the conversation could flow because, you know, what do you say to the man who's heard every different approach? And when I met him, I just, I didn't really know what to say. I guess I was lucky and what just fell out of my mouth was, I said, meeting you, Bob, is a bit like what it must have been like when you met Woody. And the conversation, the conversation could have died right there, but it didn't. It went on. And, you know, Bob talked about Woody and I talked about Woody. I knew just enough to keep a conversation going with him, you know, so it was, for me, it's been a wonderful experience being in his company. Well, I want to thank you both so much for talking with us. Thank you. Thank you very much. Ooh-wee, ride me high Tomorrow's the day that my bride's gonna come now Oh-ho, are we gonna fly Down to the easy chair? Glenn Hansard and Marketa Erglova spoke to Terry Gross in 2008. He died Wednesday in a motorcycle accident at the age of 56. Here's another of Hansard's songs. I'm working hard Working on a high hope And if it all works out You might just see me Or hear from me in a while I'm gonna make it Cross this tightrope Then I'm coming for my prize No more I'll be waiting round While life just passes by Maybe when our hearts Realize Maybe when we've both Had some time I'm gonna see you there I'm gonna see you there There We can be natural There ♪ Yeah ♪ Cause I've been living in a high flight Coming up, Monday marks the 100th anniversary of the birth of Tony Bennett, and our jazz historian, Kevin Whitehead, has an appreciation. This is Fresh Air. This is Fresh Air. Monday marks the centennial of the birth of singer Anthony Benedetto. Early patron Bob Hope suggested he anglicize his stage name to Tony Bennett. A lifelong New Yorker, Bennett had a long series of hits starting in the 1950s. In 1965, Bennett marched on Selma with Martin Luther King Jr. Later, he became a successful painter of portraits, landscapes, and cityscapes. He then had a spectacular late-career comeback, recording scores of vocal duets. Tony Bennett's hits, jazz historian Kevin Whitehead, offers an appreciation, which includes some of Bennett's lesser-known songs. You're clear out of this world You're clear out of this world You're clear out of this world When I'm gone When I'm looking at you I hear out of this world The music that no mortal ever knew Tony Bennett, 1964, with saxophonist Stan Getz, pianist Herbie Hancock, bassist Ron Carter, and drummer Elvin Jones. Fast company. The song is Out of This World by one of Bennett's favorite composers, Harold Arlen. Tony Bennett didn't call himself a jazz singer, but the influence was hard to miss in his swinging paraphrases of a tune. He had one of the great pop singer voices, soaring, confident, big as a billboard. He liked a big finish. Even his vulnerability sounded self-assured, but good taste and timing would save him. Still, on early singles, he might battle top-heavy orchestrations and gimmicky effects, like the tango beat plus castanets that paint a Latin setting on Boulevard of Brunei. Broken Dreams Here is where you'll always find me Always walking up and down For I left my soul behind me In an old cathedral town The joy that you find here you borrow You cannot keep it long, it seems But gigolo and gigolette still sing a song and dance along The boulevard of broken dreams When Tony Bennett was getting started in the late 1940s, early booster Pearl Benchmark, Bailey warned him, learning proper stagecraft takes ten years. He got there about on schedule. Bennett's favorite jazz composer was Duke Ellington, but his favorite band leader was Count Basie, whose orchestra he recorded with in 1958. Basie's fireworks in that period fit a singer who liked to go big. Things are mending now I see a rainbow blending now We'll have a happy ending now We're taking a chance I hear the trumpets blow again And we're taking a chance About to take that ride again Taking a chance In the early 60s, Tony Bennett had his signature hit, I Left My Heart in San Francisco, and made some good jazzy records. But as rock music took over, he came to stand for a fading breed, guy in a tux with a loosened tie, singing Cole Porter in a Vegas lounge. Bennett ignored advice to modernize and kept on going. In the 70s, he downsized, had his own small label, and recorded some of his most intimate sessions in duo with pianist Bill Evans and with a quartet run by Ruby Braff on cornet and George Barnes on guitar. On ballads, the singer kept his power in reserve. I left my heart in San Francisco, and made some good jazzy records. Isn't it romantic Merely to be young On such a night as this Isn't it romantic Every note that's sung Is like a lover's kiss Sweet cymbals in the moonlight Do you know how I feel Do you mean That I will fall In love perchance Isn't it romance In 1980, Tony Bennett's career was in a slump. Things began turning around when his son Danny became his manager, introducing him to younger listeners via MTV and late-night television shows. The CD reissue boom helped. Folks heard Tony's old sides with fresh ears or for the first time. And he made a few records with his working trio where we could hear how expertly his longtime pianist Ralph Sharon shepherds him along. I took a trip on a train And I thought about you I passed a shadowy lane And I thought about you Two or three cars Parked under the stars A winding stream Moon shining down On some little town And with each beam The same old dream In his last phase, Tony Bennett famously recorded many, many duets with diverse singers. B.B. King, Bonnie Raitt, Barbra Streisand, Bono, Billy Joel, Michael Bublé, that's just some of the Bs. The series got rolling in the 90s when he paired up with K.D. Lange, a very good fit. Here they are in 2001. I'll go on I'll go on I'll go on I'll go on I'll go on And do my best I'll go on I'll go on I'll go on And never end Keep the faith Keep the faith I will Keep the faith, baby Oh, yeah That fake little laugh, he used that a lot. Tony Bennett's late duets cast a wide net. Some are quite good, others not so much. The rock'em, sock'em swingers with Lady Gaga lean hard on the old Vegas glitz as if to vindicate the 1960s Tony the hippies ignored. At least all the attention the duets gave him and the duets brought him let Bennett see that in the long run everybody loved him just as he was. Tony Bennett sang as long as he was able, last performing in 2021 on Turning 95. He died less than two years later. He had a voice you can recognize anywhere. A singer can't do much better than that. Dancing in the dark Till the tune ends We're dancing in the dark And it soon ends We're waltzing in a wonder Of why we're here Jazz historian Kevin Whitehead is the author of the books Why Jazz, Play the Way You Feel, The Essential Guide to Jazz Stories on Film, and New Dutch Swing. Singer Tony Bennett died in 2023 at the age of 96. Monday is the 100th anniversary of Bennett's birth. Coming up, Justin Chang reviews I Want Your Sex, the new comedy film from Olivia Wilde. This is Fresh Air. This is Fresh Air. In the new comedy I Want Your Sex, Olivia Wilde plays an L.A.-based artist who initiates a dominant-submissive relationship with her younger employee, played by Cooper Hoffman. It's the first new feature in 12 years from the queer cinema pioneer Greg O'Reilly, and it's opening in theaters today after premiering to much acclaim in January at the Sundance Film Festival. Our film critic Justin Chang has this review. When Greg O'Reilly brought his new movie I Want Your Sex to this year's Sundance Film Festival, it felt like a long-overdue homecoming. In the early 90s, Sundance helped launch O'Reilly into the front ranks of queer independent filmmakers with daringly sexy, funny, and violent tales of gay identity. Like The Living End, Nowhere, and one movie whose title I can't say here. His output has been more erratic in the decades since. But in all his work, including the 20th, 2019 TV series, Now Apocalypse, he's never lost sight of sex as a defining force in the lives of his characters as well as his audiences. Or, as one character in I Want Your Sex puts it, sex is everything. Those are the words of Erica Tracy, a multimedia artist who's known for her provocative work. She's played by a terrific Olivia Wilde. When we first meet Erica, she's floating face down in her own Los Angeles swimming pool, while a young man in a pink bra and panties, that's Elliot, played by Cooper Hoffman, clumsily tries to save her. I was reminded of the beginning of Sunset Boulevard, and indeed, I Want Your Sex is an erotic comedy by way of a noirish mystery. The story flashes back several weeks to around the time Erica hires Elliot as her assistant. Elliot is smart and friendly, but also hopelessly naive, and he has no idea what he's in for when, one day, Erica calls him into her office. There is something I need to speak with you about. I wouldn't want you to take this the wrong way, but the way you've been looking at me has been making me feel uncomfortable. What? Don't pretend you haven't been flirting with me, Elliot, and it is entirely inappropriate in the workplace. Oh my god. I am so sorry. I, um, I don't even know what I've been doing, exactly, but I promise, whatever it is, I will stop immediately. As long as we're really on the same page about that. I would love to be on the same page, yes. Erica's accusation is, of course, a come-on. Before long, the two have crossed over into entirely inappropriate terrain, with Erica initiating Elliot into a dominant, submissive relationship. Most of their encounters take place at Erica's home, and are played for easy laughs. But when they're not having sex, Erica and Elliot have some pretty pointed conversations about why so many Gen Zers like Elliot are, well, not having sex. Elliot blames COVID and overproductive parents, noting that he and his peers were raised to fear any kind of in-person socialization, let alone intimacy. Erica calls them all out as a generation of cowards. Arguing that the whole point of sex, and of life itself, is to take risks and push past boundaries. Araki more or less agrees with her. You could think of I Want Your Sex as his State of the Physical Union address. At 66, he no longer represents the younger generation, but he's still clearly concerned for their well-being. That might have seemed condescending coming from another filmmaker, but Araki's style of comedy is warm, genuinely inclusive, and thoroughly disarming. For moment to moment, the movie is pure pleasure, full of bright colors, delectable sight gags, and sharp, pop-culture-savvy one-liners, like when Elliot, wearing all black for a hot date, is told that he looks like an assassin in a Netflix Yakuza movie. There are also sharp performances from Mason Gooding, as Elliot's snarky gay co-worker, Zap, and Chase's sweet wonders as Elliot's best friend, Apple, who envies his forays into kink. As it turns out, though, there's not much to envy. Erica invites Elliot to take their already wild relationship to another level. But what happens next simply doesn't ring true. It's the movie's most daring scene, and ultimately its most disappointing one. Like some other recent BDSM-themed films, like Baby Girl and Pillion, I Want Your Sex brings its leads to an emotional crisis point that lays bare the long-term limitations of the characters' arrangement. Araki is hardly a moralist, but he's mellowed a bit since his more radical early days. And the movie, for all its twists and trysts, follows a fairly conventional arc. And the narrative machinery really starts to splutter in the closing stretch, as the pieces of the swimming pool mystery plot snap laboriously into place. Even so, I left I Want Your Sex with real respect for Araki's determination to start a cross-generational conversation, and his fondness for his characters and his actors. Hoffman, who came to fame a few years ago in Paul Thomas Anderson's Licorice Pizza, has a wily goofball charisma. He never becomes the butt of the movie's joke. And wild is outstanding as Erica, mocking her own art-world pretensions one minute, delivering a sex-positive monologue the next, and always seeming to keep the truth of what she really wants under wraps. She's a classic Greg Araki creation, a hilarious yet wholly serious reminder of the slippery, unpredictable nature of human desire. But the pageant did ignite a battle over beauty, race, and power that still echoes today. We talk with historian Mickey McElgay about her new book, Liberation Summer. Hope you can join us. Fresh Air. Fresh Air's executive producer is Sam Brigger. Our senior producer today is Roberta Shorrock. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering support from Julian Hertzfeld and Adam Stanishevsky. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Anne-Marie Baldonado, Lauren Krenzel, Teresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, and Adam Stanishevsky. For more information, visit www.freshair.com. Susan Yakundi, Anna Bauman, and Nico Gonzalez-Whistler. Our digital media producer is Molly Seavey-Nesper. For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm David Bianculli.