CHICAGO — Oscar speeches come and go. Each year a new batch replaces the old with only a select few penetrating public consciousness enough to make a best-of reel. Fewer still can survive a replay without an element of cringe.

Not so much for Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, whose timeless "Falling Slowly" from the 2007 indie darling "Once" won for best original song at the 2008 ceremony.

Hansard's bewildered appeal to "make art, make art!" and host Jon Stewart bringing the then 19-year-old Irglová back on stage post-commercial break after the orchestra cut her off to deliver a wide-eyed message ("Fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up") carved a spot in people's hearts that even surpassed the goodwill brought on by starring in the film as two strangers who change each other's lives through song.

The relentless touring as the Swell Season that followed while simultaneously embarking on an ill-fated love affair in real life only added to their Hollywood story (and fueled a cycle of celebrity gossip, especially in Hansard's native Ireland, the pair hopes to never experience again).

Remarkably, the duo is still making good on those speeches. They've never stopped dreaming big or making art, and now, almost 20 years later, they've reconvened as the Swell Season with a gorgeous new album, "Forward," and tour that stops at the Greek Theatre on Sept. 19.

Sitting side by side in a tiny box of a dressing room sporting an absurdly robust tea selection in July hours before performing at the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago, both recall over an hour-long conversation the initial phone call (or text — they can't agree) that jump-started this reunion of sorts. "It's not like we've lost contact, but [it was] very loose," Hansard explained through a haze of burning sage balanced precipitously on the vanity. "Mar sings on my records and Mar will send me songs every so often."

In Hansard's retelling, reaching out was a spur-of-the moment decision made while having breakfast at Mel's Drive-In on Sunset Blvd., while in Southern California for Eddie Vedder's Ohana Festival. An idea no doubt brought on by all of the time the pair spent in the area during the Oscar campaign while staying at a friend's house on Miller Drive. "I said, 'I'm gonna text her and see does she fancy playing a few gigs,' because as musicians that's the best way to see your friends," he reasoned.

For Irglová, the inquiry was a long time coming.

"Ever since we stopped touring, I always assumed that we would do another tour. It's like, why did we stop touring? It was supposed to be a break. But then it just became more and more than a break, but it was unsaid. Nobody decided it. The conversation never happened," the Czech-born pianist said.

"I would have always liked receiving that phone call, but by the time it came, I definitely stopped waiting for it in any shape or form. I felt like, that's also OK if it never happens. But then Glen called and all of the sudden I'm faced with the reality."

Irglová wondered if the strength of their creative connection had withstood the intervening years. "With me and Glen, we're either really great together or terrible together depending on how well we align with our energies," she confessed.

After all, a lot of life happened since 2009's "Strict Joy" and their ascendance in pop culture — the Venn diagram of musicians depicted in animated form on "The Simpsons," referenced lovingly in "Ted Lasso" and feted at the Tony Awards for a Broadway musical is miniscule.

Irglová, 37, relocated to Iceland with her now husband, had three kids (the youngest is 7) and released a trilogy of dreamlike solo albums. In the last three years, the 55-year-old Hansard became a father, and husband to Finnish poet Maire Saaritsa, splitting his time between Helsinki, Dublin and wherever his self-inflicted rigorous touring schedule takes him. "I'm kind of institutionalized by touring," he admitted, noting his four solo albums that needed promoting. "I love it. It's where I know who I am."

Buoyed by the interpersonal success of a five-gig "test drive," the duo embarked on making "Forward" over three fruitful sessions at Irglová's home studio run by her husband, Sturla Mio Thorisson, who also produces. Family life etched itself into the bones of the album with grandparents and fair-haired kids mingling for backyard hangs roasting marshmallows and shooting hoops and even lending some background vocals, which Irglová captured and turned into a 45-minute making-of documentary called "The Forward Journey."

Someone with a parasocial attachment to the pair would have a field day trying to decipher which of the album's eight tracks are about the other. And, yes songs like Irglová's wistful "People We Used to Be" with lyrics such as "How I miss the people we used to be / And all those things that you brought out in me" and Hansard's pleading "Stuck in Reverse," which begins, "My love, can we go backwards / Back to the days before the going got rough," throw fuel on any theories about lingering feelings, but they are also amalgams of many years and experiences. Sorry to disappoint the shippers.

Autobiographical details come directly in "Factory Street Bells" where Hansard calls Christy, his 3-year-old son, a "full-blown, solid gold miracle" before launching into one of his signature yelps that stretches a single syllable into a voyage between dimensions. Unsurprisingly, welcoming a child into the world radically shifted Hansard's perspective. "It made me think much more about staying alive," he said quietly.

Trading in pints of Guinness at the pub in post-concert celebrations for Guinness Zero, Hansard now writes the number of days without alcohol on his inner wrist to keep track. "I stopped drinking. Just because I have no time for it. I have no emotional space for it. It's just very selfish," he concluded. "[Christy] has definitely affected my relationship with living. I choose porridge over the bacon and eggs."

The album's soaring closer, "Hundred Words" came to Irglová "in a dream." She woke up with a melody and the craving to receive 8.3 dozen specific terms from a partner. She still can't identify them. "I wonder about the 100 words as well. I thought maybe it would come to me over time," she admitted. Instead of discarding the idea in lieu of clarity, she trusted in the delivery method and Hansard helped fill in the blanks.

The song hits that sweet spot unique to the Swell Season where the somber and celestial meld. Where lines like "don't give up; don't stop believing; keep the faith" can transform from overworn platitudes into a chant of quiet confidence and inflate the listener's heart like the Grinch on Christmas. Written the way many of the old songs came into being — sitting in a room bouncing ideas back and forth — the track holds a special place in Irglová's heart because it's "the one song on the album which is equally me and Glen," she said. "That's our song."

Irglová exudes a boundless presence in this iteration of the Swell Season. Her contributions always felt integral, but often sweetly complimentary to Hansard's outsized showmanship. Even live, she often seemed tucked away on the side of the stage, her piano acting as a physical border between her and the rest of the action. Now, her angelic voice acts as a force for Hansard to push up against instead of flattering his parts. Later that evening onstage in Chicago, the lush, tender album Hulks-out with drummer Piero Perelli and original bassist Joseph Doyle. These lean, muscular renditions allow Hansard and Irglová to completely lock in with each other for a riveting dance.

"There's nobody on this Earth that I've ever met who can do what Mar does when we sing together," Hansard affirmed.

Going back to that life-changing Oscar, Irglová reveals that back then she viewed it as an incredible time for Hansard and points out if you rewatch the footage, she immediately looks at him to gauge his reaction as their names get called out. "At the time, I really felt like, 'I'm on Glen's journey,'" she said. "I thought, 'It's really Glen's moment and I'm so happy that I somehow got to contribute to it.'"

Today, she revels in ownership over the honor: "That was for me too and I recognize what my part in that was. I know I was put in this role for this," she attested.

Hansard relied on that sure-footedness in the studio where Irglová "cut to the chase" and reined in his tendency to tinker and noodle — a tactic his band The Frames indulged in when not on hiatus. "Mar would be like, 'I'm gonna go pick up the kids and put on the lunch, have those lyrics finished by the time I get back and we'll record it.' And for me, that's shocking 'cause I can spend years writing a song," he said. "And she was like, 'Have it done by 12 o'clock,' which is an amazing challenge."

Accepted — and won.

©2025 Los Angeles Times. Visit at latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.