In 2000, when my time in Manchester was coming to an end (although I didn’t know it at the time) Bryan used to come and visit me while I was working in the little Waterstones in the Royal Exchange Theatre. I loved that, in the morning, no customers, a mild hangover and a mocha and a wee blether with Bryan. It was 10 years ago, so don’t expect me to go into many details, or, let me say, don’t expect me to be too rigorous with the accuracy. What I do remember is that we had some God talk at that time; he was going through a difficult time, having recently lost his father, and inherited some money. It was the first time really I was faced with that sad conundrum of having your poverty relieved by the death of a loved one. He was sad and flush at the same time, and a very touching person.
Just after I launched the first single with Sleepwalker we had a residency in the Night and Day, where we played with a few bands that we had asked to play with us. One of them was an acoustic outfit called The Rio 6, and they were led by Matt, a friend of Bryan’s. When we were backstage Bryan was with them and they seemed to have this kind of love cult thing going on, all talking in tongues and group hugs. I wasn’t sure what was going on to be honest, but I loved that kind of thing, still do, that kind of whacked out on the edge love and sentimentality - it kind of defined Bryan for me, in a way. I think it’s really apparent in my favourite song of his, ‘My Love’ – because the way he sang that line with his droll Manc drawl, he really made it his. His Love.
He was so full of love and positivity and sadness at the same time, but he also had that endearing boy-about-town kind of edge. The last time I saw him perform it was supporting David Gray in the Academy – they were good friends, and David’s star was in the ascendency, so it was a good opportunity for Bryan to play a few songs. I’ll never forget seeing him that night. But perhaps the image that stays with me best is standing outside the Night and Day one Wednesday afternoon watching him drive down Oldham Street on one of those ridiculous motorized scooters. And I don’t mean a scooter like a Vespa (although a Vespa would have suited him more I think), I mean a scooter like you had when you were nine. But motorized. He looked really comical, like he was having a laugh playing with the sense of cool, and I loved that about him too. He didn’t seem to worry too much about that shit. He had the talent to live his life the way he wanted to, and document that. Yep, he was a lovely guy that Bryan Glancy, it was privilege to have known him.
