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Glen Hansard of the Swell Season is shown performing at the Bonnaroo music festival in Tennessee last Friday. - Associated Press

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• Swell Season's show can be downloaded

I knew it was going to be a good show at the Overture Center Monday night when Glen Hansard walked onstage with the same beat-up acoustic guitar he played in the 2007 Irish movie "Once."

His hands had worn the enamel off the wood in a strum arc. A hole punched on the lower body exposed the guitar's skeleton. But Hansard alternately charmed and beat a passionate two-hour show out of the dilapidated instrument (which he defended as "like having a pair of shoes you like" and can't bear to part with).

Hansard appeared with his "Once" co-star (and now girlfriend) Marketa Irglova, a pianist and singer whom he met in real life while on tour in her native Czech Republic. Together they perform as the Swell Season, backed by members of his rock band the Frames (bassist Joe Doyle, violinist Colm Mac Con Iomaire and guitarist Rob Bochnik) with Graham Hopkins (of the Irish punk band Therapy?) on drums.

Their story is an instance of life imitating art: "Once" tells the unconsummated love story of a Czech pianist and a Dublin busker who write music together. Hansard and Irglova started dating after filming the movie. Neither is an actor, though Hansard appeared in a supporting role as a guitarist in "The Commitments," a 1991 film about a group of Dubliners who form a soul band.

The sound suffered a little in the beginning because Hansard's microphone was turned up too loud, creating an irritating buzz. But by the fourth song, "Moon," knobs had been fiddled with, and the sound improved considerably. Irglova's soulful harmonies on "Moon" melded beautifully with Hansard's intense vocals that squeezed every last gasp of air out of him.

A street musician since age 13, Hansard had an easy stage presence honed from years of trying to catch the attention of passersby. He often broke into long, endearing monologues that explained the emotional and social context of songs, gesticulating dramatically for emphasis.

After one particularly complex and earnest intro that went into the relationship between heart and brain, he didn't get 20 seconds into the song before someone in the balcony scraped a chair across the floor in a way that sounded like a fart. The sold-out crowd fell apart and giggled uncontrollably like a roomful of fifth-graders.

"I think I have to abandon that song," Hansard deadpanned.

At one point, after Irglova and the rest of the band took a break from the stage, Hansard stepped out from behind the microphone, unplugged his guitar and played an entirely acoustic version of "Say It To Me Now." His voice resonated well in the theater, and the soft hiatus from amplification was refreshing. Afterward he joked, "This feels more like you're busking."

One of many high points in the evening came with the full band's rendition of "Santa Maria." It was the only song for which Hansard took up an electric guitar. He started by softly patting the strings in rhythm and gradually built up to a pounding, crashing atmospheric wall of sound with the band by the end.

Except for two songs, Irglova sat at the piano and looked to Hansard for direction. She sang solo first with "On My Mind," a sweet, breathy number with contrived lyrics. She sounded much better on "If You Want Me," the song she sings during a scene in "Once" that follows her walking down the street from her apartment to get batteries. The clip-clop beat fit hypnotically with her delicate voice, and the song as a whole translated well into live performance.

Toward the end, the lights dimmed down just to a spotlight on violinist Colm Mac Con Iomaire, who gave a soaring solo rendition of an old Irish folk song off his new album, "The Hare's Corners." His violin, even with electric playback loops, channeled a different time and place and lulled the audience into a reverie.

The show ended with "Fitzcarraldo," and then Hansard and Irglova each said warm thank-yous to the audience -- reminiscent of their appearance at the Academy Awards when Jon Stewart invited Irglova back to finish her acceptance speech after she got cut off by the music that transitions the awards to commercial break.

Hansard joked that, if the show at Overture had been busked on a street corner, people really would have gotten their money's worth. No caveat needed: The Swell Season wrung every bit of worth out of each ticket.

Opener Nina Nastasia walked on stage like a stagehand, completely unassuming, with one knee sock falling down. Her awkward but sweet demeanor belied a potent performer. She sang a 40-minute set that was at once restrained and wild. The melancholy songs showcased her powerful voice and fine guitar work.

Accordionist Josh Carlebach joined her halfway through the set, alternately pumping full volume to match her torch song wail and then, as she got quiet, pushing air slowly out of the accordion to create a soft tuneless sigh/whistle. Nastasia creates music that conjures visceral scenes deeply embedded in memory. It's the kind of music you'd listen to at night in a parked car on the side of a gravel road in the country, with no one but crickets to keep you company.